screams.
13
I SPEND A FULL hour in the bathroom the next morning, splashing cold water on my face. Eventually, my swollen eyes are capable of being disguised with makeup.
I’m bone tired.
My brain is bruised.
My heart has shattered a hundred times in my restless, tortured night.
I put on a smile for the day. I’ve been here before. I know it will pass. I’ll be fine. Last night was just a little worse, a little more intense, than usual.
The snow has melted on the roads and the thunderous clouds have cleared from the sky. We all climb into a battered Land Rover with Connor at the wheel, Roman in the passenger seat.
I’m not ignoring Roman. And I’m not indifferent to the way the mere sight of him heats through me and melts. How could I be?
But I am stiff, formal.
I haven’t spent a night in his bed. I haven’t woken up beside him.
What I’ve done is far, far worse.
My heart cracked. It’s not love. Not even a glimmer. I hardly know Roman, really. But that one crack is enough. Too much. And now we’re done.
I don’t even want this. I don’t want us to end.
But I don’t know how to stop it.
I am what I am.
My heart is spoken for.
This morning, Roman makes it easy for me to slip away from him. He’s just as formal as me, distant, although not stiff.
Maybe he’s still making his decision. Or maybe he’s realised that I’ve already made mine.
I put more effort into my smile when Liam gives me a worried look. Roman has already agreed to let him take the Lamborghini for a spin. He’s bouncing like an excited puppy and I don’t want to spoil this day for him. Neither of us are flush with money and we’ll probably never be. This is likely Liam’s one and only chance to ever drive his fantasy.
The Dingwall show ground is a lot of packed ground and churned up sludge. The display stalls are still being dismantled and there’s a lot of activity going on.
The cars waiting to be collected are securely stored in rows of garages that are alarmed and guarded by both humans and dogs. When the manager opens one of those spacious garages for Roman, I see the reason for the stringent extremes.
The Lamborghini is a sleek, silver beast that rides low on the ground. Blackened window slits literally growl at me as I take a slow walk around it. I swear this car possesses the Rocchi vibes. A shiver actually trembles through me at the prospect of climbing inside. Okay, I’m starting to appreciate Liam’s puppy-like enthusiasm.
“You’re sure you can handle her?” Roman says to Liam.
There’s no criticism or second doubts in his tone. It’s more like a male-bonding jibe.
“I’ll be careful,” Liam promises.
Roman presses a button on the key-holder and the doors fly open like wings. His eyes come to me. “Climb in, Ms. Lynch. I’ll bring her out and then Mr. Rearedon can take over.”
I glide up to the passenger side, because that’s the only way to approach a car like this, and slide into the plush bucket seats with a grace that owes nothing to me and everything to the car.
Beside me, Roman turns the engine and the low growl vibrates the air. He leaves the doors arched high open as he drives a couple of yards to clear the garage.
When he swaps out, he gives Liam a slap on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself. Take her out the grounds and onto the road for a good drive.”
“We may not come back,” I tease him with a smile, my mood floating above the bad night I’ve had.
His gorgeous grey eyes soften on me. “I won’t start worrying for at least twenty minutes.”
The wings lower, sealing us into the aerodynamic capsule of pure luxury. While Liam changes gear, I press buttons. A deep, base, male opera voice filters in all around us.
Liam grins at me. “This guy has good taste in cars, but I’m not so sure about the music.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, settling into my seat as I strap my belt on. “It suits the car.” I raise a brow at him.
13
I SPEND A FULL hour in the bathroom the next morning, splashing cold water on my face. Eventually, my swollen eyes are capable of being disguised with makeup.
I’m bone tired.
My brain is bruised.
My heart has shattered a hundred times in my restless, tortured night.
I put on a smile for the day. I’ve been here before. I know it will pass. I’ll be fine. Last night was just a little worse, a little more intense, than usual.
The snow has melted on the roads and the thunderous clouds have cleared from the sky. We all climb into a battered Land Rover with Connor at the wheel, Roman in the passenger seat.
I’m not ignoring Roman. And I’m not indifferent to the way the mere sight of him heats through me and melts. How could I be?
But I am stiff, formal.
I haven’t spent a night in his bed. I haven’t woken up beside him.
What I’ve done is far, far worse.
My heart cracked. It’s not love. Not even a glimmer. I hardly know Roman, really. But that one crack is enough. Too much. And now we’re done.
I don’t even want this. I don’t want us to end.
But I don’t know how to stop it.
I am what I am.
My heart is spoken for.
This morning, Roman makes it easy for me to slip away from him. He’s just as formal as me, distant, although not stiff.
Maybe he’s still making his decision. Or maybe he’s realised that I’ve already made mine.
I put more effort into my smile when Liam gives me a worried look. Roman has already agreed to let him take the Lamborghini for a spin. He’s bouncing like an excited puppy and I don’t want to spoil this day for him. Neither of us are flush with money and we’ll probably never be. This is likely Liam’s one and only chance to ever drive his fantasy.
The Dingwall show ground is a lot of packed ground and churned up sludge. The display stalls are still being dismantled and there’s a lot of activity going on.
The cars waiting to be collected are securely stored in rows of garages that are alarmed and guarded by both humans and dogs. When the manager opens one of those spacious garages for Roman, I see the reason for the stringent extremes.
The Lamborghini is a sleek, silver beast that rides low on the ground. Blackened window slits literally growl at me as I take a slow walk around it. I swear this car possesses the Rocchi vibes. A shiver actually trembles through me at the prospect of climbing inside. Okay, I’m starting to appreciate Liam’s puppy-like enthusiasm.
“You’re sure you can handle her?” Roman says to Liam.
There’s no criticism or second doubts in his tone. It’s more like a male-bonding jibe.
“I’ll be careful,” Liam promises.
Roman presses a button on the key-holder and the doors fly open like wings. His eyes come to me. “Climb in, Ms. Lynch. I’ll bring her out and then Mr. Rearedon can take over.”
I glide up to the passenger side, because that’s the only way to approach a car like this, and slide into the plush bucket seats with a grace that owes nothing to me and everything to the car.
Beside me, Roman turns the engine and the low growl vibrates the air. He leaves the doors arched high open as he drives a couple of yards to clear the garage.
When he swaps out, he gives Liam a slap on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself. Take her out the grounds and onto the road for a good drive.”
“We may not come back,” I tease him with a smile, my mood floating above the bad night I’ve had.
His gorgeous grey eyes soften on me. “I won’t start worrying for at least twenty minutes.”
The wings lower, sealing us into the aerodynamic capsule of pure luxury. While Liam changes gear, I press buttons. A deep, base, male opera voice filters in all around us.
Liam grins at me. “This guy has good taste in cars, but I’m not so sure about the music.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, settling into my seat as I strap my belt on. “It suits the car.” I raise a brow at him.
Similar Books
