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I pull my hand away. “I’m fine.” He angles his head like he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t give him the chance to say anything. “I can’t believe you rented this place without even asking me, and had it stocked full of supplies.”
“I just wanted you in a safe place, close to your school, and the kitchen is stocked because we need to eat.”
“Roman, I—”
He captures my hand and when he pulls me close, my body meshing with his, I can’t for the life of me remember what it was I was going to say. His head dips and I hold my breath. Is he going to kiss me again?
Do I want that?
Oh God, I do.
“Before you say another word,” he begins, his voice an octave lower, “come with me.”
Giving me little choice in the matter, he ushers me up the stairs. We don’t stop on the bedroom level. Instead we go up another set of stairs and he pushes open a heavy door. It takes me a second to realize we’re now outside.
“Oh my God,” I say when I see the breathtaking view from the rooftop. It’s even better than from the second-floor bedroom. I turn and take in the long stretch of pool and crisp white outdoor furniture, shadowed beneath a pergola. I breathe in as the warm wind blows by, carrying the fresh scent of flowers with it. “It’s gorgeous.”
“I thought you might like the view.”
“You mean you thought it might shut me up,” I say, but I’m losing the will to fight. This is all too much for me, but it was incredibly sweet of him.
“Peyton,” he says, and spins me around until I’m facing him, our bodies flush. He rubs his hands up and down my arms to warm me. Awareness flitters through me, and I can’t seem to ignore it. “Maybe this isn’t about you,” he says. “Maybe it’s about me. Maybe I just wanted to stay somewhere nice, something that suits my needs and lifestyle more.”
He’s selling it, but I’m not buying. I don’t for one second believe this is about him. He might be a man used to luxuries, but everything in me, every ounce of women’s intuition I possess, says he picked this place for me because I’d like it—and that confuses the hell out of me. One minute he’s kissing me and laughing in my face, the next he’s flying me here on his Learjet, putting a gorgeous ring on my finger and swearing he’ll do whatever it takes to help me get this job.
This isn’t about you, Peyton.
It’s about my brother and their bond, and I’d be wise to remember that. Air leaves my lungs in a hiss, much like a leaky balloon deflating. What? Did I want this to be about me? No, I don’t even like this guy.
“It’s not a big deal, okay?” he says, but it’s kind of a big deal for me.
“I don’t want you to pay my way, Roman.” The truth is, while I appreciate him wanting me to live in comfort—because he has some obligation to my brother—I don’t want to rely on anyone. Outside of my brother, I can’t ever let myself get used to someone else caring for me. Self-preservation has taught me to rely only on my small family of two. I just can’t set myself up for that kind of heartache. I don’t think I could survive being chewed up and spit out again—especially not by this man.
His head dips and those dark eyes of his narrow on me. His smile is slow and sincere. My stomach tightens as the hardness in his dark eyes melts, reminding me of a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night—the kind of warmth that comes close to thawing the chill in my bones, but never quite succeeds.
“Okay,” he says. “You can pay me back.”
I nod and my tightly strung muscles relax, slightly. “Good.”
“Can we go to bed now?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Roman
PEYTON’S GREEN EYES widen at my slip and I quickly backtrack. “I mean, we should get some sleep. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow will be busy for you. You have to meet the children, the teachers and the school’s principal, and we need to be ready to make a good impression.” Okay, Roman, you can stop rambling any time now, and while you’re at it stop picturing Peyton naked.
“True,” she says, and pushes her hair from her face to expose the pink flush on her cheeks. “Sleep is a good idea. Which room do you want?” she asks as we head inside. She starts down the narrow stairs and I follow behind.
“Why don’t you take the master suite,” I say, the room I normally take when I come to Malta to unwind. If I told her I owned this place, that my family owns many villas on Malta, it might set off another argument, and I’d have to quiet her with a kiss, which can’t happen again. Her brother is my best friend. That doesn’t stop my dick from hardening at the thought of kissing her a second time today. “I’m fine in the smaller room.”
She nods and glances at me over her shoulder, her jaw set, a stubbornness about her. “I do plan to pay you back, Roman.”
I smile, liking that about her. Not her stubborn streak—that’s just plain annoying—but I like that she’s a girl who wants to pay her own way through life, even when she doesn’t have to. She’s always refusing her brother’s financial help, and this is my villa—already bought and paid for.
“I know you do,” I say quietly.
“I just...it might take a while.”
