“Yes. No. I don’t know. What? You’re competing for my affection?” She clamps her mouth shut and steels her spine. “I’m not a piece of property for anyone to fight over. I have my own mind, and I’m perfectly capable of deciding who ‘wins’ my affections without being put in the middle of some juvenile turf war.”
That’s not at all what I wanted to hear her say, but I’ll respect her wishes.
“Point taken. I won’t get in his way anymore.”
When the elevator stops, I hold the doors open with one arm and motion for her to exit first with the other. She walks past me, hesitates for just a moment as if she wants to say something, then thinks better of it. Once we’re inside her room, she tells me to help myself to her secret stash of beer while she goes through her nightly bedtime routine.
But I don’t.
While Tawnee is in the master bath, Blake drops off my clothes and toiletries, which I stow in the second bathroom and change into my lounging pants. After locking the door, checking all the windows, and adding additional security to the balcony’s sliding door, I grab the extra blanket from the hall closet and settle on the overstuffed couch to get some sleep.
A few minutes later, she emerges from the bedroom and stops when she reaches the darkened living room. I’m sure she expected to find me wide awake, beer in hand, and waiting to throw sexual innuendos her way. Maybe about the way her nightgown barely covers her sweet ass. Or how her toned legs look ultra-sexy peeking out from under the thin, silky material. Or even how her nipples appear to prefer the cold, air-conditioned air in here since they’re standing at attention in perfect form.
But I don’t say any of those things out loud.
Her eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the dark room yet, so she stands over me, trying to determine if my eyes are open or closed. She chews on her thumbnail, unsure if she should say anything and chance waking me. Then she tiptoes back to her room and climbs into the bed… but she leaves the door open.
I close my eyes and let sleep overtake me.
Chapter 10
Tawnee
After a night of tossing, turning, punching pillows, and sleeping in short stints, I finally decide it’s time to face the day. The enticing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee is so strong, I can almost taste it. In the living room, I find Roman is not only already awake, but he’s fully dressed in his suit and has had breakfast delivered to the room.
“Good morning. Sleep well?” He’s a little too chipper first thing today.
“Fine. You?”
“Like a rock. That couch is surprisingly comfortable. I think I like it better than my bed at the other hotel.” He hands me a cup of piping hot java. “Still take yours the same as usual—a little bit of coffee with your sugar and vanilla flavoring?”
I take a sip, close my eyes, and smile. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” He remembers exactly how to mix all the ingredients to suit my taste. How can that be? And why?
“Have a seat. Breakfast is ready too.” He lifts the silver dome off my plate, and I lick my lips in anticipation. “You ordered pancakes? I haven’t had them in forever. They smell so good.”
When I finally come up for air after a few minutes of gorging myself, the subtle shift in my reality instantly slaps me in the face. My throat clogs with emotion, making it hard to swallow my food. The scene right in front of me could have been my idyllic life. The dream feels so real and so close that I could simply reach out and grab it.
A handsome man sits across the table from me, enjoying the breakfast he so thoughtfully made for us. The comfortable silence we enjoy means we don’t have to fill every moment with words for our time together to be meaningful. The butterflies fluttering in my chest when I look at him are evidence my love for him will only increase every day. Our individual strengths and weaknesses only make us stronger as a couple.
But that’s only a pipe dream with Roman. The man who barely gave me a drawer to keep extra clothes in. The man with an aversion to commitment and a fear of missing a better opportunity waiting around the corner. The man who prefers to remain a lifelong bachelor, never opting for marriage or kids to fulfill him. Like a bad case of déjà vu, I’ve been in this exact scenario before, and I recall how badly it ended.
I won’t put myself in that position again. I won’t give my love to a man who can’t return it.
“Is anything wrong with your food? Do you want something else?” He lowers his fork to his plate and moves toward the phone to order whatever I want. Too bad it’s not on the menu.
“No, this meal is delicious. No need to change anything.”
“All right. Want to tell me what’s on your mind, then?” He retakes his seat and directs all his attention to me.
“No, I really don’t. Let’s just focus on getting through today and whatever it is Silas has planned for us.”
“All right, sweets. If you change your mind, I’m ready when you are.”
“Ready for what, Roman?”
“Anything you want, Tawnee.”
He seems so sincere, making it far too easy for me to be pulled under his spell and get lost in his eyes. That tug on my heartstrings? That’s the direct line this man still has attached to me to this day. It’s also the warning signal confirming how badly I want to believe him. And emphasizing why I always need to stay on guard. I never thought I’d fall back into the same old routine so quickly and easily.
If I were forced to examine why I don’t simply ask him what I want to know or tell him exactly what I’m feeling, the conclusion would be something along the lines of… ignorance is bliss. I can’t handle his rejection a second time around, so it’s better that I don’t go there in the first place.
We resume breakfast with idle chitchat, avoiding any topic that remotely relates to the two of us. When I manage to stop just short of licking the last few crumbs off my plate, I thank him for his thoughtfulness and disappear into my bedroom. All I know about today is Silas has plans for us that require dress clothes and leaving the hotel grounds. Since he hasn’t shared intel on what’s waiting for us out there, that helps me decide what to wear—black dress pants, a flowing shirt, and flats.
Once I’m dressed and ready to go, Roman and I meet Silas in the lobby.
“Where are we going?” Not knowing what’s on the agenda makes me a little nervous.
“There’s a conference nearby at the Dubai World Trade Centre that we need to check out.” The smile Silas tries to hide makes me nervous. He rarely smiles while he’s working. We all know and love this about him. Usually.
“Oh, a conference? That sounds… fun.” That’s a lie. Complete and utter bullshit. Conferences bore me to tears. I’ve attended enough as Raf’s security to know I’d never voluntarily sign up for one.
“Doesn’t it? I thought so too.” Silas strolls through the main entrance, and the attendant opens the back doors of the Rolls-Royce limousine.
The two rows of plush leather seats face each other, leaving plenty of space in between to stretch out with the electric footrests. “I think I could get used to living in the lap of luxury like this. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Roman turns and looks out the side window, but Silas grins and nods his head at me. “This is very nice. It’s way out of my price range, but I’m not above letting someone else pamper me for a while.”
“I’m surprised your boss doesn’t cart you around in one of these every day.” There’s no malice in Roman’s voice, but there’s an unmistakable deeper meaning to his words.
“Rafael certainly has the money for it, but he’s not pretentious like a lot of men in his position are. Yes, he has nice things and travels the world, but he doesn’t call unnecessary attention to himself by announcing to everyone around how much money he has. He has a security team in place to avoid trouble, so he doesn’t want to do anything that will encourage it.”
“Smart man.”
“He is a brilliant man. There’s no denying that.” I’m stating facts, not boas
ting about my employer. But when I catch a glimpse of Roman’s reflection in the glass, my heart drops to my stomach. The faraway stare. His down turned features. The clipped replies.
He’s giving me exactly what I asked for—what I said I wanted. He’s not competing with Rafael anymore. He’s not trying to win me over or convince me he’s the better man. When I said I’ll be the one to decide who I’m with, I wasn’t implying I’d chosen Rafael. But then, I suppose I haven’t not chosen Raf either.
This is what happens when I’m around Roman. He makes me feel like a crazy woman. I’m never indecisive. I can’t be hesitant—other’s lives are literally in my hands in my line of work. But give me twenty-four hours with this man, and I’m the most wishy-washy person I know. If any of my employees were in the same state of confusion, I’d sideline them until they got their shit together.
When I turn my attention toward Silas, his knowing smirk makes my face burn red hot. Without conscious effort, my eyes jerk to the empty seat beside him. His light chuckle at my discomfort only makes it worse. My skin is melting off my bones by now, I’m sure of it. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and erratic pulse, but it does very little good.
The driver stops to let us out at the exhibition center, and Roman extends his hand to help me out of the car. We follow Silas through the main entry doors, and I stop in my tracks when I find hundreds of people milling around, looking at the exhibits, and asking questions of the oil and energy professionals on hand. Why did Silas bring us to an oil conference? I feel so lost and completely out of my element.
Silas pulls three badges out of his jacket pocket and hands one to each of us. With a quick glance at it before clipping it to my shirt, I realize Silas has been hard at work. The badge already has my name imprinted on it. He didn’t make this in his hotel room last night. Before I pepper him with questions, I peek at Roman to gauge his reaction. The only response he gives is a slight nod of his head before donning his badge.
No questions. No hesitation. No doubts.
Roman begins walking again, checking out several booths and talking with the men and women staffing them as if he’s an energy expert. Since our badges show we all work for the same company, I follow his lead and try to sound somewhat knowledgeable about the topics at hand. I mean, I’m not, but I’m doing my best to bluff my way through the crowd. Silas loosely follows behind us, stopping at opposite stands and waiting for us to move ahead first.
When we finish one long row that spans the entire length of the center, we stop at the refreshment center to get a couple of drinks. I’ve talked more over the last couple of hours than I have the past year combined. After a long gulp of ice-cold water, I twist the cap back on and look up at Roman.
The intensity in his blue-gray eyes steals my breath. Every time I look directly into his eyes, I have a physical reaction to him. My heart beats faster. I have a hard time controlling my breathing. Butterflies take flight inside my chest, swirling like a miniature tornado inside me. The man is dangerous to my sanity in so many ways.
“What are we doing here, Roman? What are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure, but I have a strong feeling we’ll know when we find it.” He lifts his water bottle to his lips, and I’m instantly mesmerized by the simple act of swallowing. Is it the way his tongue darts out of his mouth, barely grazing the opening of the bottle? Is it the way his full lips purse, kissing the rim? Is it because I want to lick the droplet of water left on his mouth?
The answer is most likely yes, to all three questions. And to anything else he asks me right now because I’m clearly out of my mind.
He cocks his head to the side and arches one eyebrow. One cheek rises with the most seductive half-smile. “Are you thirsty, Tawnee?”
I know that look—I’ve seen it all too often. He sure as hell isn’t asking if I want more water. But I have no words to answer him. I stutter and stammer before I give up and nurse my water bottle instead of trying to speak until it’s empty.
“Let’s keep going. We’re bound to find something interesting.” Roman tosses his empty bottle into the recycling bin, and we start down the second aisle.
From my vantage point a couple of steps behind him, I have an excellent view. His broad shoulders taper down to his slim waist. Even when he’s wearing a business suit, his muscular ass looks fantastic. Other women stop chattering and check him out when he passes by them. Not that I blame them, obviously, since I’m doing the same.
“Tawnee?” A familiar voice in the crowd pulls me out of my reverie over Roman’s ass. “Oh my God. Is that really you?”
When I locate the face behind the voice, I know without a doubt we’ve found exactly what we’re looking for… or, I should say, who. “Gerald?” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a full embrace.
It’s funny… and sad… realizing how much I’ve missed him after seeing him again.
“Dad? What the hell?” At least Roman looks and sounds as bewildered as I feel. “I’ve tried to call you several times, but you haven’t answered. What are you doing here?”
“I’m working—this is an oil conference. It’s sort of what I do for a living, son. It’s so late every night when I get back to my room, I haven’t had a chance to call you. The real question is, what are you two doing here? And at this oil conference, no less? Why didn’t you leave a message and tell me you were in Dubai too?” Gerald grabs his son in the same kind of bear hug he gave me, not the least bit concerned with the odd looks others send our way.
“First of all, I had no way of knowing you were even here. Second, I didn’t leave a message because it’s a sensitive topic. I couldn’t leave it on your voice mail and chance someone else hearing it first. And last, I’m here helping Tawnee out—not for an oil conference.”
“All right. Well, I can’t leave the booth for a while since it’s my turn to stand here and look pretty. How about we meet around one for lunch? Most of the crowd will be in breakout sessions by then. The session with my big reveal doesn’t start until three.”
“Sounds good, Dad. You’re giving one of the session speeches here?” Roman’s spy senses are tingling.
He stands up straight, drawing up to his full height, and begins carefully scanning the room. He shifts his gaze slowly and methodically, assessing everyone in his field of vision. When his eyes linger on one spot for more than a second, I follow his lead and find Silas standing off to the side with a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Yes, I am, and my topic is one of the more controversial ones, too. I can’t wait to share my work with all the bigwigs in this industry.” Gerald looks so proud. He makes me want to stay and listen.
“Do you speak fluent Arabic?” I don’t mean to sound as shocked as I do.
He laughs. “No, sweetheart, I wish I could. They graciously hold this conference in English since it draws oil executives from all over the world.”
“Ah, I see. So, what’s your session about, Gerald?” I know he’s a chemist for a major oil company in South Africa, but that’s the extent of how much I understand about his job.
“I’ve created a synthetic product that can replace crude oil—and it lasts a lot longer. It’ll revolutionize the entire oil industry. Instead of drilling and fracking and wrecking the environment, we can redirect our resources to manufacturing this synthetic compound instead. I’m so excited about it. Our initial trials are extremely promising.”
I’m happy for Gerald—honestly, I am. But even with my limited knowledge of the oil industry, I understand he just painted an enormous target on his back. Roman stares at Gerald, his eyes wide and bottom jaw slack, shaking his head from side to side. He doesn’t want to believe it either.
“Ah, shit.” Roman drops his chin to his chest and stares at his feet. He’s visibly uneasy in a way I’ve never seen him before. “There’s no way it’s a coincidence we’re all three here at the exact same time.”
Panic rises in my chest and stops at the back of my throat,
nearly choking me as I work hard to restrain the scream that desperately wants to break free. He’s right. There’s no fucking way. Statistically speaking, that can’t ever happen.
Yet here we are.
An Arab man who knows my name and tried to kidnap me.
Someone sent Roman an SOS message from an encrypted app on my personal phone to get him here.
Soon Gerald will reveal a creation that will effectively stop the need for oil production around the world at an oil convention with worldwide business leaders.
Ah, shit is exactly right.
“We’ve been set up, haven’t we, Roman? We’re here as the bait, aren’t we?”
Chapter 11
Roman
“Tawnee, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Rafael sidles up next to us, resting his hand on her lower back in a passive-aggressive intimate display.
Is this fucker serious?
I’m just about to rearrange his face when I remember my discussion with Tawnee yesterday. She doesn’t appreciate my ogre ways, so I throttle down my reaction before she sees my face. She’s too busy staring up at Raf’s face, anyway.
“What are you doing here?” She keeps her voice low and her anger controlled, but there’s no mistaking the way she enunciates each word with purpose. “You weren’t supposed to leave the hotel grounds.”
“Yes, I know that was the original plan. But while I was working from the hotel room, I received an email about the topics for today. It’s rather fortuitous that we couldn’t reschedule the property tour for this week. This conference is one of a kind, and now I’m available to attend all the discussions.” His smile reminds me of a used car salesman I used to know… slimy and underhanded.
“Don’t worry, Tawnee. We have him on a short leash.” Tony pats her shoulder while smiling. He knows his boss is a douche. “We’d better go find the meeting room if you still want to catch the session on industry trends.”
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