by Ellis, Aven
Within seconds, my doorbell rings. Feeling beautiful in my evening gown, I can’t wait for him to see me in it, to see if the gold in his hazel eyes darkens in approval. I slowly open the door, but Roman gives me a surprise of his own. My mouth drops open as I take him in. I can’t speak. My heart is pulsating at a rapid rate. I feel breathless staring at him.
He’s wearing a dark navy suit, showing off his broad shoulders and trim waist. The pale blue dress shirt is beautiful against his olive skin, and he’s even worn a navy and platinum dotted tie to bring the suit together. I’m about to speak, but when my gaze meets his, I’m rendered speechless by the adoration in his eyes.
“Lizzie,” he says, his voice low, “my God, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon. It’s your eyes. The light in them, it’s different.”
He lifts his hands to my face, and I shiver the second his deliciously rough skin meets mine. “They are sparkling, like sunlight on the aquamarine sea,” he whispers, staring deeply into my eyes. “I’ve never seen you more radiant.” As Roman says the words, his gaze remains fixed on mine. Not on my dress. Not on my body.
He’s telling me all the beauty he needs to see is reflected in my eyes.
I stare back at him, seeing the gold flecks growing more intense.
“Thank you,” I murmur, still revelling in joy from his response.
Roman takes my hands in his and steps back, viewing my dress from head-to-toe.
“So beautiful. I lost my breath when the video came up on my phone, but you are even more perfect in person. You chose colours for a high-profile event,” he says, as if hardly believing I took his advice to heart.
“I chose a pattern,” I say as Roman studies me, “of flowers and leaves and butterflies, like the place where your heart is the happiest.”
His eyes widen as he takes in my words; then I see a stunned expression filter over his handsome face.
“You are the reason I chose this dress,” I continue, drawing him closer to me. “It represents the gardens you long to be in. It was a nod to you, Roman, for helping me see I was hiding behind a colour. I don’t want to hide. I’m going to reflect who I am and take chances. Monday was my first one, but today is the permanent leap to patterns and colour, and to expressing who I am. I can do my duties and let people see my work speak for itself, without trying to build that trust and confidence in white.”
His lips part as if I’ve rendered him speechless. He takes a breath of air, almost as if for courage, before speaking. “You’re wrong about one thing,” Roman says, placing my hand over his heart. Goosebumps prickle my skin when I feel how fast it’s beating underneath the starched fabric of his light blue dress shirt.
“What?” I whisper.
“My heart isn’t only happy in the garden.”
Now my heart beats as wildly as his. Roman drops his head and presses a slow, sweet, lingering kiss on my lips, and then breaks it.
“My heart is happy,” he whispers, his lips barely inches from mine, “when I’m with you, Lizzie.” Then he kisses me again, a hand wrapping around my back as his tongue tangles with mine.
I have never known such happiness as this. Knowing he’s being brave enough to explore a relationship with me despite how his heart was broken in the past makes me vow to protect him even more than I have already promised.
He breaks the kiss, and I smile up at him. “It’s cold. Come on inside,” I say, tugging playfully at his suit. “I have been remiss in not telling you that you are dead sexy gorgeous in this.”
I watch as an embarrassed flush creeps up his neck. Roman follows me inside and shuts the door behind him.
“Well, if you had to stay in an evening gown, it was only fair that I show up in a suit,” he explains.
Elation washes over me as Roman wraps his arms around me to hold me close. He’s so kind, so thoughtful, and so aware, unlike anything I ever expected to find in a man.
“Well, you might regret that decision when you hear what I’d like to do tonight,” I say, putting my hands on his suit lapels. Damn, he’s beautiful, in both his work clothes and a suit.
“Hmm, why would I regret a suit?” Roman asks.
“I was wondering,” I say slowly, curious as to how his reaction will be to my suggestion, “if you would be game to having some late-night pizza over at Christian and Clementine’s. My sister Victoria will pop in as well.”
Roman doesn’t smile, and I wonder if meeting my family is too soon. Although, the squad are more like my best friends than family, but to an outsider, maybe it’s weird.
Or too much.
“Princess Victoria?” he asks, a crease appearing on the bridge of his nose.
I know he’s feeling the weight of my family now.
“Victoria,” I say, dropping the princess title, “studies fashion at the University of the Arts in London. She’s always up for a good pizza and conversation.”
The crease deepens. “What will your sister think of a gardener?” he asks, showing me his vulnerability.
“What will you think of a fashion student? It goes both ways, Roman,” I say, raising my hand to his face to stroke it reassuringly. “You know how I am, and Christian. Victoria is like us, except she dresses like she should be in Vogue. That’s the only difference. I promise you can trust me on this.”
Roman takes my hand and draws it to his lips, kissing it. “Then that’s all I need to know.”
“To keep things fair, I’ll wear my dress,” I say.
His mouth begins to curve up in that teasing way I’ve come to adore. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I tell him.
Because it makes me think of you, I add to myself.
Before long, I’m wrapped up in my coat, and we make the short stroll through the Kensington Palace grounds to the cottage where Christian and Clementine live. As we walk, I feel Roman’s palm go sweaty as we hold hands. I realise he’s worried about what my family will think of him.
“I’m glad I wore a suit,” he says, his deep voice fracturing my thoughts. “With Victoria studying fashion, my usual jeans and boots won’t cut it with her.”
“While Victoria loves fashion, she would never judge you for your clothing. Unless you wore a suit to work, because that would be ridiculous,” I say. “She would be the first to tell you that.”
“She sounds outspoken, like someone else I know.”
I see the corners of his mouth turn up, and relief washes over me.
“She is,” I say as I lead him up the path to Christian and Clementine’s cottage. “Victoria is a sharp judge of character. Which means she will adore you, Roman.”
We stop at the doorstep. “Don’t be nervous.” I place my hands on his chest. Once again, I feel his heart, which is pounding at a rapid rate due to nerves. “You’re friends with Clem. You’re dating me. Christian and Victoria are no different. We’re normal people born into an extraordinary position due to history. Victoria pushes a trolley, too,” I say, smiling at him.
Now I get more of a turn-up on his sexy mouth.
“Right.”
“It’s true,” I say, pressing the doorbell. I hear barking and know that Clem’s Airedale, Bear, and Christian’s spaniel, Lucy, are bounding towards the door.
“Bear and Lucy will be the first to greet you,” I tell Roman. “I love them both. Lucy is sweet, and Bear is like a big snuggly teddy bear.”
“I can think of something else you might consider snuggly,” he says, his lips twitching mischievously now.
Heat flickers through me. Why, yes. Yes, I can consider Roman’s hard, taut, athletic body quite snuggly indeed.
Clementine pulls open the door, and I can hear nineties pop music blaring in the background. I know without a doubt Victoria is here and has her playlist going.
“Um, you understood we are getting pizza and beer and staying here, right?” she asks as Bear and Lucy wag their tails excitedly upon seeing us.
“Yes,” I say, grinning as she
lets us inside. I begin stroking Bear’s head while Roman bends down to pet Lucy. “I finished the reception, and Roman was already dressed, so here we are.”
“Well, you look gorgeous,” Clementine declares. “And look at you, snazzy man.”
I grin as Roman’s neck goes a deep shade of red.
“Terribly out of character, I know,” he says, rising back up.
“It’s fantastic,” Clementine says. “Here, let me take your coat. Everyone is hanging out in the kitchen. Charlie is here, too. He’s in London for the weekend.”
“Charlie is one of Christian’s dearest friends,” I explain to Roman, “and has been since their days at Eton before going to Cambridge. He’s like us, part of the squad.”
Roman helps me take my coat off, and I turn around and see the trust in his eyes. I’m touched at how much faith he puts in me, considering he’s still getting to know me. Then I realise he feels the same way I do, like he knows me even though his head is probably telling him he truly can’t after only a few dates.
His heart, like mine, knows better.
Clementine takes my coat from Roman. “Go on back. You can give your pizza orders to Christian.”
“Thank you,” I say to her.
I lead Roman through the cottage, and he takes in his environment. I see him studying the sofas, the art, and the lamps before we move to the kitchen, where “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls is blaring from Victoria’s phone. Christian is on his laptop, and Charlie is standing behind him, staring at the screen.
“Hello,” I say cheerfully, bringing Roman into the kitchen.
And into the squad.
I squeeze his hand in mine to reassure him as I make introductions. “Everyone, this is Roman,” I say easily, as if I pop in with a man at any given time.
Victoria, never one to be subtle, steps forward. “Hello, I’m Victoria,” she says, giving Roman a welcoming smile. She’s dressed in tall black boots, a black corduroy mini skirt, and a cream wool jumper, with a black tweed newsboy style cap over her glossy, sleek, blonde locks.
“Your Royal Highness,” he says, deferring to old tradition.
“Nope, Roman. I’m just Victoria, and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, smiling and extending her hand.
He shakes it. “All right, Just Victoria, I’ve got it.”
She laughs. Roman smiles.
And my heart is full.
“This is Charlie, a friend of Christian’s,” I say.
I watch Charlie, with his ginger curls and green eyes, as he shakes hands with Roman. His title is actually Charles Altham, Viscount Hallcourt, and he will become an earl someday and inherit the Hallcourt Estate in Northumberland, which has been in his family since 1506.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Charlie says.
“Likewise,” Roman replies.
“Good to see you again, Roman,” Christian says, rising and shaking his hand as well.
Roman grips it back. “Thank you for having us over tonight.”
“You’re a welcome addition. You level the playing field for us gents here.”
“Gents,” I say, snickering.
Christian shifts his gaze to me; then a slow smile filters across his face as his eyes move from me to Roman and back to me again.
“Nice of both of you to dress up for us,” he quips.
“It’s a lovely dress. I couldn’t bear to take it off,” I say.
“Liz. This dress, it’s everything,” Victoria declares. “Sheer on the top? What are you thinking, you devilish woman?”
“I can tell you what she was thinking,” Christian says, and I see his blue eyes are dancing with mischief. “Liz was thinking, ‘This dress will infuriate Her Majesty. Sold!’”
“Christian,” I say, with a warning tone, “I do not live to make your mum furious at me.”
“Please, go ahead. You realise you’ve moved ahead of Clementine now on the list of things that annoy her.”
Inwardly, I wince. There is that wee problem about embracing my true self in the public light.
My dramatic change in fashion is gathering tonnes of attention.
Antonia perceives that attention would be hers, if only I would stay in my white dress and in my own lane. I’m sure I will be told to get back in that lane tomorrow when she serves me a watercress sandwich and cup of tea or suffer the consequences. I add it to the list of things to deal with later and come back to the moment.
“Roman, Liz, would you like to come here and study your pizza options? And would either of you like a beer?” Christian asks.
“A beer would be lovely, thank you,” I say. “Roman?”
“Any pizza you order is good by me, and I’ll have a beer, too, thank you.”
“Any pizza? Oh, no, no, no, I need to see your pizza personality,” Victoria declares.
I move around the table and sink down into Christian’s spot. Roman moves behind me so he can study the menu, too. I feel the warmth radiating from him as he bends down low next to me, and I breathe in the sandalwood soap lingering on his skin. I shiver happily as I anticipate snuggling against his chest and drinking in his sexy scent when we’re alone together later.
“What is your pizza personality?” Charlie asks Victoria.
“Precise and full of surprises. Layers of unexpected discoveries.”
“How can something be precise and unexpected?” he wonders.
“I like things in a certain order, but they are things nobody else would expect,” Victoria says, taking a sip of her wine. “My pizza has a tomato sauce, but not to the edge of the crust. The outer rim of the pizza has to have a lovely basil pesto. I get a combination of mozzarella ovalini, goat’s cheese, and parmesan. Then I top it with torn basil, pepperoni, and pineapple. A light sprinkle of sea salt over the top, then it’s finished with a drizzle of balsamic and more pesto. I’m addicted to pesto.”
I glance up from the images of pizza on Christian’s laptop and see Charlie staring at Victoria with a bemused expression on his face.
“That’s gross,” Christian says, plunking two beers down on the table for me and Roman. “Give me a pepperoni pizza.”
“With a side of ranch,” Clementine adds as she joins us.
Roman smiles at her. “The weirdest thing I have ever seen is Clem taking the pepperoni off the pizza and dipping it into ranch sauce. Isn’t the point of having the pepperoni for it to be a topping on the pizza?”
“I give Clem points for not being predictable. That is so boring,” Victoria says. “I like things that are unexpected. In food. In places. In people.” She looks directly at Roman as a wicked smile passes over her beautiful face.
I blush. I know Victoria loves the fact that Roman is a gardener. She has mentioned over and over how Clementine was a fun, fresh breath of air in our world, and I know she’ll think Roman is the same. We have both shied away from men in our usual social circles, but for different reasons. I had never felt the draw to any of them like I did to Roman, and I didn’t want to be disappointed like I knew I inevitably would be.
Victoria, however, dismisses all of them up front as “posh polo boys” and has kept her eyes open for something different. So far, her choices have made my parents’ hair stand on end, ranging from a poet who wanted her to pay for everything because he couldn’t let a job interfere with his “creative process” to an up-and-coming social media developer who liked to use the beautiful princess to gain attention for his new messaging system. Once he sold the company to William Cumberland, who owns a massive media group, he dumped Victoria. Thankfully, she’s decided to take a dating sabbatical and focus on her studies instead.
“You never did try the dipping method, Roman,” Clementine chides. “I promise, it’s a game changer.”
He chuckles, and that familiar, low, reverberating sound sends goosebumps sweeping over my skin. “It would be, in the worst way,” he teases. “What do you like on your pizza, Lizzie?”
My cheeks erupt with heat. Everyone in this kitchen knows I rej
ected that nickname as soon as the press adopted it. From “Luscious Lizzie” to “Lucky Lizzie,” I hated every version.
But now it’s my most cherished name when it comes from Roman’s lips.
I decide to ignore the looks and speak directly to him. “Parma ham and rocket,” I say.
“That works for me,” he replies, rubbing his hand on my back.
The second he touches me, my heart flutters. I love the fact that he’s not hesitant to show affection in front of others.
“Christian, I’ll go ahead and add it,” I say, as I see he already has multiple pizzas in the order.
Roman stays with me while I submit it, but after the order is placed, the guys gravitate towards the living room, to watch some football recap programme. I remain in the kitchen with Clementine and Victoria, where I know I’m about to get the inquisition from my sister.
“Lizzie? He calls you Lizzie?” she asks, her voice low.
“Trust me, they aren’t listening now that soccer is on,” Clementine says.
“Football,” Victoria and I correct at the same time.
“Whatever you want to call it, we don’t want to talk about it,” Clementine says. “We want to talk about Roman.”
Thanks to the renovations Christian did to the cottage over the summer, the floorplan is entirely open, and I can watch Roman from across the room now. “He’s brilliant,” I say, glancing at him as he takes off his suit jacket and makes himself comfortable with Christian and Charlie.
“He’s dead sexy, I’ll give you that,” Victoria says. “He’s a gardener?”
I turn back to my sister. “Yes. A master. He’s incredibly gifted and has a passion for the earth. Roman treats me like I’m Liz, like you all do. He tells me what he thinks. He’s gentle and passionate, and I knew he’d be special from the first words he ever uttered to me.” The sentences tumble out of me, in sync with everything I’m feeling in my heart.
“Is he the reason you are pulling colours out of the wardrobe this week?” Victoria asks, pausing to take a sip of her red wine.