Temptation On The Menu
NICOLE
His penthouse is everything I thought it would be.
It sits at the very top of a high-end glass building, and the view is just...wow. Breathtaking. I can see the whole city from his living room. Well, the best parts of it.
The floor is black and shiny, and his furniture looks like it belongs in a magazine. They're mainly gray, and their colors don't pop, but I mean this in the best way possible. It's a luxurious gray, not standard, too-poor-to-afford-anything-else gray. Everything's spotless and in its right place. Upstairs, there's a rooftop with a pool, surrounded by potted exotic plants.
"Wow," I say out loud. "This is something, huh?"
"Thanks. I'm glad you like it. Want a drink?"
I should probably not have many drinks tonight, but I need something to take the edge off. I don't want to raw-dog this entire conversation while sober.
I'm too nervous around Roman. I have butterflies in my stomach and we haven't even exchanged a proper word yet. I'm still wondering what he meant by the word 'fun'. "Yes. A small one, please."
"Please?" he jokes. "When did you get so polite?"
I raise my chin indignantly. "I've always been polite."
"Not that I remember. What do you want?"
"Whatever you've got."
Roman pours us both champagne and then invites me to head to the rooftop with him. The air is cool and my skin is immediately covered in goosebumps. I take a few sips of the fizzy champagne—it's just the right amount of sour, and it's delicious.
"So," Roman begins, drawing my attention away from the view, "charity work, huh? I never thought you'd go down that path."
"Why not?" I ask, slightly offended by his tone.
"Well, you always seemed like a hands-on, authoritative kind of girl. Sometimes, it seemed like you were older than Mason. Not that I'm trying to make fun of your profession—I'm only noting how things change over the years."
I get his point. "I went into business, but I'm doing this for Ma. I can't seem to let go of it."
Roman nods, watching me with an intensity that makes me feel naked. "And this is what she wanted for you?"
"We never got the chance to talk about it. The doctors gave her a year, and she died in a month. We thought she had more time."
Roman clicks his tongue against his teeth. "I'm really sorry to hear about her passing. She treated me better than my own mother did."
"I just realized I don't know much about your childhood. We were always together, but I have no idea what your family life was like."
"Don't worry about it," he states. "It was nothing special. But tell me about yourself, Nikki. I want to know everything about you."
I take another sip. My stomach's burning. "Like what?"
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"No."
He seems a little too pleased by that answer, and I take another big sip of my drink. My core is tight, and this proximity is doing strange things to me. My body's reacting in ways I never expected it to.
"What about you?" I ask to fill the silence. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Nope. I'm not that kind of guy."
"Come on. I've read the news. You're in a dating scandal every once in three months."
His smile widens and he leans in closer. "You've read the news, have you?"
Shit. "I never said I didn't know about your fame, Roman. It's hard to ignore the news about you when it's all over the place."
"What I meant is that I don't really see women. I keep it casual."
"How modern and typical."
Roman's grinning now, and he looks down at the spot between us before looking back at my face. "In my defense, I just haven't met the right girl. Everyone's always after something. I don't want to be loved for what I have."
I didn't expect this kind of honesty from him. It's touching and a little sad. He gestures for us to head back inside, where dinner's waiting for us. "I made all of this myself, by the way. I thought you'd appreciate some homemade food."
"I'm impressed," I declare. He made a mouthwatering seafood pasta, and for dessert, a cheesecake. "I'm having a hard time believing that you made this, Roman."
"I've learned a lot along the way. I changed. Evolved. All that stuff's easier to do when you have the money for it. I had lessons with world-famous chefs."
"Sounds like fun."
"Oh, it was. Come on, let's sit over there."
Throughout our meal, we keep the conversation light, discussing college and superficial things, and I end up having two glasses of white wine. It's too much already. I'm not flat-out drunk, not in the slightest, but I'm definitely feeling a bit too warm and comfortable in the home of this man I haven't seen in years, who has a bad history with my brother, and who's looking at me in a way that makes me want him to do sinful things to me.
This isn't right. It's not even healthy.
I take the last sip of my wine and say, "You know what? We haven't discussed the charity once."
"Of course we did. You're here after all, right? That means you accept my offer."
My heart sinks a little at this, and he takes note of my expression right away. "What's stopping you? Is it Mason? Did you tell him you met me?"
"No, I didn't," I admit. "He can't hear your name without throwing a fit. I mean, I know he'll be mad if he finds out about this, and I explained to you how he supports me."
"Does that mean he gets to decide who donates money to a worthy cause and who doesn't?"
I sigh. "I don't know, Roman. I've never been this confused and torn before in all my life."
"That's because you're overthinking things. I'll make an anonymous donation, then. He won't have to know it's me. Does that make things better?"
I search his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
A beat of silence passes, and it's harder for me to breathe. My heart's pace is picking up, and he's so close that I can smell the wine on his breath. "I thought that would be obvious by now."
My stomach somersaults. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I think you know, Nikki. Come on. You're not stupid at all. In fact, you're one of the smartest people I've ever met in my life. I admire you—I always have."
Roman's lips are merely inches away from mine now. This is too much.
"I have to go," I declare before standing up. My head spins a little but I keep going and hunt for my bag. Where did I put it?
"Nikki."
"I told you. Nobody calls me that anymore." Why am I so angry all of a sudden?
"You're not going to leave."
"What, are you going to stop me?" I find my purse and head toward the exit. He steps in front of me. I groan. "Roman, please. I have to go."
"No, you don't," he says, inching so close to me that I have to turn my face away so our lips don't touch. "You don't have to leave. What are you afraid of, Nikki?"
His arm goes around my waist, and my resolve weakens quickly. His lips find my neck, and a moan escapes me. Then, I shove his chest. I try to sidestep him and fail. "My brother would kill you, Roman. Hell, I shouldn't even be here!"
He moves closer, blocking the exit. "He's not here, and you're not telling me to stop, Nikki. So, why don't we stop lying to each other and admit the truth?"
I glare at him. My heart's slamming against my chest. "Which is what exactly?"
A wicked smirk curves his lips. "That we want each other. Always have. No matter how badly we shouldn't."
"That's not—"
His lips crash into mine, and I forget everything I was just about to say.