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She nodded and bent to hug me.
“Paige, I really didn’t mean for this to affect your job,” I whispered.
“I know.” She lightly patted the back of my head. “But it will.” Deep down, I knew she was right. I was just hoping the effect wouldn’t be major. “G’night, Amy.”
“Good night.”
It wasn’t until after Paige had gone to her room and shut the door that I realized what she had said.
It’s like a drug…
Only a few samples of Roman Reese had me wanting more. While I was with him, it was amazing, but coming down was a hard thing to deal with. I just wanted that next high. That next time to be with him.
My life’s work was helping people battle addictions, but maybe I was no better than the thing I was fighting.
After a weekend of not hearing from Roman, I’d spent my Monday morning on the phone being rejected by potential private donors, all of who were informing me that while drug rehabilitation was a good cause, a new center in Arbor Hill was basically useless. Even if it did receive state funding, I didn’t know how much money would come in, and I still needed to do my job in the meantime.
I was about to throw my work phone, otherwise known as the ringing spawn of Satan, through the window when my cell rang.
I didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” I barked, a little more rudely than intended.
“Tough day, sweetheart?”
For a split second, my heart stopped pumping and my lungs stilled. I didn’t know what to say to him. Partly because after I had left Friday night, I wasn’t sure if I would hear from him again. I hadn’t even known he had my number—I didn’t have his—though it shouldn’t have been surprising. He’d found me in a bar, after all.
Clinging to Paige’s advice and my own will to stay strong, I spoke the truth.
“Just frustrating being rejected.”
“I know the feeling,” Roman countered.
Heat rushed to my face and, once again, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake by leaving Friday night without talking to him.
“How’s your day?” I asked, a little shaky because really, how the hell should I handle this? We’re together in the eyes of everyone around us. I had repeated this to myself over and over, and a normal girlfriend would ask about her boyfriend’s day, right?
“My day has been busy. Which is why I’m calling. There’s a fundraiser this weekend, and I need you to come by my office so my staff can get you prepped.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. I’ll send a car for you.”
I looked at my still-full inbox and the memos piled on my desk, and leaned back in my chair. “I can’t, Roman. I can’t just leave work in the middle of the day.”
“Amy.” The way he said my name—half growl, half stern warning—made me flash to Friday night, when he’d used the same tone right before thrusting himself inside me.
A hot flush broke over my skin, and my palms suddenly felt clammy.
“I need you to be here today. I’ve blocked out time, and this is an important fundraiser for my campaign that you are accompanying me to.”
I could almost smile because he was telling me my duty, based on our arrangement, without actually bringing up the arrangement. Clever man.
Stay strong, I reminded myself. This wasn’t a battle of wills, it was a battle of reality. He wanted this to be considered a relationship?
“Well, Roman, I can’t leave my job on a whim to do my boyfriend’s bidding.”
“I thought your job was contingent upon securing funding for your Arbor Hill center,” he countered.
