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The single word settles between us like a stone dropped into still water. I sit there, staring at him. I let my gaze linger on him for a moment before the question slips out.

“I was captivated by you right from that first glance,” he says.

“Then why didn’t you approach me? You had two years. If you saw me back then, why wait?”

He leans back, his eyes drifting toward the dark stretch of ocean before returning to me. “Because I didn’t know who you were.”

I frown.

“When I first saw you, I knew nothing about you,” he says. “I didn’t know your family, or your name. Besides, you looked way too young back then—you were still a college student.”

His voice lowers. “I didn’t approach you because I didn’t want to drag you into my world. I thought staying away from you was the only way to keep you untouched by it. And when your father sent me the family photograph before the engagement, I saw you again.”

His eyes meet mine. “At that moment I knew I couldn’t marry Audrey. Not when I’d already felt something for you. I couldn’t stand beside your sister, make vows to her, and spend the rest of my life wondering about you. That would have been cruel to her. For me, too.”

I swallow. “So that explains how you got my painting hanging in your private quarters.”

He nods. “I couldn’t resist having it. And the rest of your paintings. I felt closer to you that way. And I really liked those paintings.”

My mouth falls open. “You were the one who bought the other three?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. I have the other three hanging in one of my houses in the Hamptons.”

He becomes serious. “I never meant to hurt your sister. But marrying Audrey while wanting you would have been worse,” he continues. “She deserved a husband who wanted her. Not a man secretly wishing she were someone else.”

I study his face, searching for even the slightest hint that he’s lying. I don’t find one. The sincerity in his eyes undoes something inside me. Maybe it’s because, for the first time, I understand that the decision wasn’t simply about an alliance.

He wanted me. He had wanted me before I even knew he existed. My hand fists in the lapel of his jacket and I yank him forward across the small space between us. Our mouths collide. The kiss is immediate, hungry, nothing careful about it.

His hand finds the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he deepens it, tongue sweeping against mine. Heat floods low in my stomach. I make a soft sound against his mouth and he answers it with a low, rough noise of his own.

When we finally separate, we’re both breathing harder. His eyes have darkened, and the look in them mirrors exactly what I feel.

He snaps his fingers. The violinist immediately stops playing, and the waiters disappear without a word, leaving us alone.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t wait for me to obey. He stands just enough to reach across, hooks his hands under my thighs, and lifts me out of my chair. In the next breath I’m deposited onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, the hard line of him pressing up against the thin fabric of my dress.

Then we’re kissing again. This time it’s slower, filthier. He nips at my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue. I rock against him, a soft roll of my hips that makes his fingers dig harder into my skin. His mouth trails to the corner of my jaw, then lower, brushing the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.

“Fucking temptress,” he murmurs against my skin.

I smile, breathless, and reach behind me toward the small dessert plate still sitting on the table. My fingers close around a chocolate-dipped strawberry. I bring it between us, hold his gaze, and sink my teeth into it. Sweet juice and bitter chocolate burst across my tongue. I leave the remaining half still caught between my lips.

Roman leans in and takes the rest of the strawberry directly from my lips, teeth grazing mine as he does. We both chew, the fruit soft and decadent between us, and then his mouth is on mine again, sharing the taste, tongues sliding together, the kiss turning messy and erotic and completely unhurried.

I can feel him growing harder beneath me with every slow roll of my hips. He breaks the kiss just enough to speak against my mouth, voice rough.

“I want to be inside you.”

A shiver runs through me. I rock against him again, feeling the thick length of him press right where I need it most. My hands slide up into his hair.

“Then take me. I need you inside me, Roman.”

We fumble with his belt and my panties, both of us too impatient, too hungry for each other. After a few clumsy seconds we start laughing at ourselves.

Finally his belt comes free. He pushes my panties aside, and then he’s sinking into me in one deep, unbroken thrust. I’m already soaked for him.