by Melody Eve
“That’s a relief. What were we doing?”
“Nothing, I was thinking about your desire for control.”
He snorts. “My desire for control? I don’t desire it, I have it. There’s a difference.”
“Oh really? What’s the difference?”
“Desiring something means you want it, but you don’t have it. My life is a series of checks and balances, and I am always in control. If not, heads roll.”
“I see. Has it always been that way?”
“Yes. Always. Now can we talk about something else?”
Well, that certainly didn’t go well. I’ll have to try another time. “How many times have you been to London?” I ask giving him what he wants—control.
“More times than I can count.”
“For business?”
“Yes, and I have family there, too.”
“Family? Who?” I pop a bit of meat in my mouth, and it melts on my tongue. I’ve never had a steak this good.
He clears his throat. “My mother.”
“Your mother?” I say louder than I’d intended. “I thought your parents lived in New York.”
“They did until my father died. My mother wanted to be as far from where he died as possible, and we had a house there where we summered. It’s not big, but it’s just her so…”
He’s taking me to meet his mother. Holy shit. He tried to get me to out myself to my parents by telling them I was going to London with him and now this.
“Roman…”
“Before you say anything, no, I didn’t plan this trip so that you could meet my mother. I know we have an arrangement. One week. I wanted to take you somewhere special, and I thought I could kill two birds with one stone. She’s been pestering me for months to visit her. You can come with me to visit her if you want to, but I will not pressure you.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but at least he’s making it known that he still understands our one-week arrangement.
“Thank you. I don’t think it’s a good idea for our families to know about each other. It’ll only confuse them, and my family is confused enough about my life.”
“You should call your mother.”
I roll my eyes. “You did look at my messages.”
“You were injured. I wanted to let your parents know in case you had to be hospitalized.”
“So, you talked to them? Oh my God, Roman, what have you done?”
“She’s a lovely woman. She seems like a wonderful mother. She thanked me profusely for telling her that you were okay. She was upset you had shut your phone off.”
“I’m sure she was. I had planned on filling her in on everything myself. Did you tell her about David and Lynn?”
“I’m pretty sure the photographs you handed out at the wedding made the situation crystal clear.”
“So, you didn’t talk about it?”
“No, we didn’t talk about it.”
I push my food away. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Aria, really? I simply called her and told her you’d hit your head, but you were going to be fine. We didn’t talk about anything else, she thanked me over and over for the call, and we hung up.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to be upset. The doctor said…”
“Stop. It had nothing to do with the doctor. You were snooping in my phone and wanted to interject yourself into my life, so you called my mother. Who did you tell her you were? My new boyfriend? My lover?”
My pulse is rushing in my ears, and I’m fuming mad with no place to escape but the next room. I need space when I’m angry, and there’s not enough space in this damn jet to get away from him. He knows this, and it’s why he felt safe telling me about the phone call to my mother.
Roman leans back and crosses his arms over his chest. Body language 101 for shutting down, closing himself off from me. He’s putting a barrier between us defending himself, and I feel myself wanting to do the same yet knowing it’s counterproductive.
“I told her I was the owner of the resort. Contrary to your beliefs, Aria, I am not trying to worm my way into your life by contacting your mother or introducing you to mine. I do have to ask, though, would it be so horrible? You and me for longer than a week. I’m beginning to feel like you’re ashamed of what we have together.”
The flaming timber of my temper dies down with those words. “I am not embarrassed.” Or am I? Maybe he’s right? Maybe I am embarrassed but not of him, of the timing. “Or at least I’m not embarrassed of you.”
“What does that mean?”
I stand up and begin to pace the tiny area. “I’m embarrassed that this is a rebound relationship that won’t last. I don’t want to go home and start parading around with Mr. Perfect only to have it fall apart in a few months. I’ve been humiliated enough.”
His arms fall away, and he stands reaching for me. I step into his embrace, temper cooling, and allow him to hold me. “I will never allow you to be humiliated, Aria, ever. I promise the call to your mother was a courtesy in case something more serious happened after your fall. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry. I keep jumping to the wrong conclusions because I can’t believe you really want to be with me,” I murmur into his chest.
He moves me away at arm’s length to look at me with stern eyes. “I. Want. To. Be. With. You. I want your stubborn streak. I want your fiery temper. I want your sexy curves and your perfect mouth. I want your sharp business mind and your compassionate nerdy heart. I want to be with you.”
“Why don’t you already have a girlfriend?” There. I asked the question I’ve been wondering about since I met him. How can someone this handsome and successful be single?
“I haven’t had a serious relationship for six years. I’ve dated casually, but nothing more than one or two-night stands and dinner dates.”
“But, why?”
“I don’t know, maybe I was waiting for you.”
I frown and feel my bottom lip slide out. “Why me? I’m just a normal, boring girl who owns a bookstore.”
“Were you listening seconds ago when I described how I see you? Because I’m pretty sure I didn’t use the words normal, boring, or girl anywhere in my description.”
He didn’t. He genuinely sounded like he wants to be with me for me. “Maybe my self-esteem has a tiny dent in it after David,” I say with a shrug looking down at my bare feet on the plush carpeting.
He hooks his finger under my chin and lifts my face to his. “I will do whatever it takes to repair that tiny dent.” He bends his knees to put our eyes at the same level and gives me a do-you-understand look. I crack a small smile, and he places the softest kiss on my lips.
“Now, how about having dinner with Mr. Perfect? I don’t want to waste good meat.” I purse my lips and try not to smile, but it’s useless. I was hoping he would miss my slip at calling him Mr. Perfect, but I should have known someone with a head as big as his would never let that go.
“Far be it from me to waste good meat.” I grin a wicked grin, and he chuckles.
“I’ll remember that.”
“I’m sure you will.”
We eat and cuddle in the bed watching Game of Thrones until I fall asleep. I didn’t think I was tired, but the pain pills helped to knock me out. When I open my eyes hours later, we are almost to London, and Roman is putting on a pair of khakis and a melon colored button-up shirt that makes his bronze skin glow.
He glances at me and notices that I’m awake. “Good morning, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?”
I turn onto my back and stretch my arms over my head and point my toes. When I’ve sufficiently shaken the sleep from my bones and finished groaning, I answer. “Yes, I believe I did. Now I’m going to be awake all night.”
“It’s the middle of the night here. You’ve already slept half the night away. No jet lag for you.”
“Oh yes, I almost forgot about the six-hour time difference.” That means we will go straight to the h
otel and back to bed. I sigh, I don’t want to be in bed unless it’s sweating with Roman, but he’s a stickler for rules, and that damn doctor said to rest for three days. Maybe I’ll be able to convince him otherwise?”
He stops buttoning his shirt and looks at me with narrowed eyes. “What are you thinking?”
I roll my head toward him on the pillow. “Why?”
“Because you look like you’re up to something.”
“I am.”
“Are you going to let me in on it?”
“Not yet.” I smile sweetly.
“When?”
“I’ll let you know.” He frowns and shakes his head which only makes me smile more.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Thank you.” I roll off the bed and step past him to the bathroom making sure to brush the back of my hand over his cock on the way.
“Not nice,” he growls.
I smile back at him and close the door. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I gasp. Lord, I’m a mess. My eyes are puffy from sleep, my hair has gone wonky and tangled, and my entire left side is covered with sheet marks. And to top it all off, my sunburn is officially beginning to peel. Yeah, maybe I’ll scratch the seduction in the hotel room idea for now. I’m not feeling very sexy.
I dampen a wet washcloth with cool water and hold it over my face for a few minutes. Then I work at picking through my hair smoothing it into a low ponytail that covers the ugly cut on my head. I apply lotion to every visible part of my body and check myself again. Better, still not seduction worthy, but much better.
“Are you almost done? We need to get in our seats for landing,” Roman calls through the door.
I open up, and he is standing right there. He must have had his face pressed against the door. The thought makes me chuckle. “What?”
“Close enough?”
“I was listening to see if you were okay. You were in there for a long time.”
“I was a mess.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself. You looked beautiful.”
“And how do I look now?”
“Marvelous.”
“You’re crazy.”
“So I’ve been told.” He takes my arm and guides me into the main cabin and to the seat I was in when we took off in Mexico.
“Do you want something for anxiety?”
“No. I don’t like to take medication, remember?”
“You also don’t like to fly.”
“I don’t like medication more, I’ll survive.”
I sit in my seat and clip my seat belt while he does the same next to me and takes my hand. “Look out your window.”
I do as he asks and see the lights of London spread out below us. “Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful. It looks like a massive spider web covered in different colored lights.”
He leans over to look. “I’ve never thought of it that way, but I think you’re right.”
He squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”
“For kidnapping you and bringing you to London?”
“Yes.”
“You’re welcome. Does this mean you’re not going to turn me into the authorities when we land?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not angry anymore?”
“How can I be mad at you for bringing me somewhere so beautiful?” I touch the glass and trace a long line of lights with the tip of my finger. This is a trip I would never have been able to afford myself. I can’t believe I was bitching about it ten hours ago. How stupid.
“I don’t know, you seem to have a lot of anger pent up in that tiny body of yours.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this.”
“I know.” The pilot interrupts with an update on our landing, and I think about what Roman just said. He has no idea what a kind, fun-loving person I usually am. I’m not this crabby, sensitive person he’s come to know over the past two weeks. I hope he doesn’t like the new me too much because when I get home, I’m going to work as hard as I can to get my pre-David-cheating personality back.
I’m going to read more books, drink more wine, make new friends, and never, ever attend another Chicago Cubs baseball game for as long as I live. I might even go so far as to get a dog. I’ve wanted a dog for years, but David said no. Fuck David and his stupid rules. I’ll have a hundred dogs if I want now.
The landing is smooth. I don’t hyperventilate, no vomit threatens to spew from my mouth, and my eardrums don’t explode. The plane taxis down the runway toward a small hanger built to hold only two or three small jet planes.
“Is that yours?” I ask pointing at the building.
“Yes, we have two company jets, and this one is mine. It should be empty, though, both planes are back at home in Chicago.”
“I had no idea banks needed to fly around the world so much.”
He shrugs. “Well, we do.”
When the plane comes to a final stop, the flight attendant opens the door and lowers the stairs for us.”
“Thank you, Michelle,” I say, passing her on the way out. I’m still embarrassed, and I want to tell her that officially I still do not belong to the Mile High Club, but like Roman said, she probably didn’t think twice about it.
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your time in London,” she says with a smile.
It’s chilly outside. Summers in London aren’t like summers in Chicago. I googled that during our flight too. Highs in the seventies, lows in the fifties. It’s got to be fifty right now.
I look at Roman who has changed from his shorts into pants. “So you get to be warm, but you set me up with a skimpy skirt and blouse.”
He pulls me to his side wrapping his arm around my waist. “If you were warm and comfortable, you wouldn’t need me.”
“That’s very manipulative of you.”
He tilts his head to the side as we walk. “You think? I thought it was nicely genius myself.”
“I’m sure you did.” He chuckles and steers me toward a car waiting on the tarmac.
“This is us.”
“How far to the hotel?” I ask as he helps me into the back seat.
“About ten minutes.”
“I think I’m going to call my mom really quick and let her know where I am.”
“That’s a good idea.” He slides in next to me. The driver nods at Roman in the rearview mirror, and we’re off. I dial my mom while calculating the time difference in my head. It’s almost 2:00 a.m. here, minus six hours, 8:00 p.m., perfect. She will be settled down in front of the TV with Dad watching something on Netflix by now.
She answers on the second ring. “Aria? Oh my God, is that you?” Mom has always been a little on the dramatic side. Maybe that’s where I got the inspiration to do what I did at my wedding.
“Yes, it’s me. Hi, Mom. I’m sorry I haven’t called until now.”
She lets out a big sigh, and I can just imagine her sitting forward in her recliner with her hand over her heart. “I was so worried until that nice man from the resort called. But he said you’d hurt your head falling in the shower. Are you all right, honey? Did the doctor take good care of you?”
“Yes, they gave me a few stitches, but I’m fine now.”
“Thank God. You should be coming home soon, right?”
“That’s what I’m calling about. I’ll be gone another week.”
“Oh, you’re enjoying yourself then? Mexico agrees with you?”
“Um, yes and no. Mexico was good, but I’m in…” I pause not for dramatic effect but to brace myself for her reaction. “London.”
I wait for her to say something, but all I have is dead air. “Mom? Are you still there?”
“Yes, dear, I’m still here. I could have sworn you said you were in London.”
“I did, I am. I met someone in Mexico, and he invited me to come to London for the week. Before you go off on a tangent, he’s a very nice man. He works at the bank that loaned me the money for my bookstore, and I’m having a nice time, so let’s jus
t leave it at that, okay?”
“You met him at the resort? Oh, Aria, there are con men everywhere in Mexico. You could be there with a psychopath!” I hear her put her hand over the phone and yell to my father. “William, you need to get in here and talk to Aria. She’s gone off to London with a serial killer!”
“Mom, he’s not a psychopath or a serial killer. You talked to him, he’s the owner of the resort who called you when I fell.”
She pauses, and I hear my father enter the room asking what the hell is going on. “The nice man who took care of you?”
“Yes. We met the day I arrived, and we have been spending time together ever since.”
“I thought you said the man you’re with worked at the bank?” she says as if she’s caught me in a lie, with an ah ha punch to her words.
“He is. He was at the resort on business because he owns it.”
“What kind of banker owns a resort in Mexico?”
The sexy, rich, manipulative kind I think to myself. “A smart one, I suppose.”
“I don’t like this, Aria. I raised you to be smarter than this. Not to mention David has been here every day. He swears that’s not him in those photos, and he’s desperate to talk to you. He wants you back, honey. You need to talk to him.”
“No, I don’t, and yes it was him. We spoke briefly a few days ago. He knows where I stand.”
“I think you should come home and talk to him face to face, honey. He loves you. He would never do that to you.”
“Have you heard from Lynn?”
“Well, no I guess I haven’t.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd, Mom? She’s been my best friend for years. If she weren’t having an affair with David, she would have been the first one to grace your doorstep and tell you that, not David. He’s lying. Not to be crass, Mother, but I’ve been with David for a long time, and I would know his tiny dick anywhere. Those pictures were of him and Lynn. I don’t know where they came from or who took them, and I don’t care. David and I are done. If he stops by again, tell him I’m in London with my new boyfriend. I love you, Mom. Goodbye.” I hang up and drop the phone in my lap.
I don’t even have to look at Roman to know he’s grinning ear to ear. I just called him my new boyfriend, and he’s eating it up. “Don’t say a word,” I warn.