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“What's in it for you? You're a beautiful woman. Surely there is some other candidate out there. Someone who would be thrilled to avail himself to the Orlovs’ only daughter.”
“Marrying you will please my father,” she said. “I imagine you of all people understand the value in such a thing.” Her gaze raked his body. “Besides, you're not entirely displeasing to look at.”
“Such lavish praise deserves consideration,” Roman said drily. He had no intention of marrying Valeriya Orlov, but it was imperative that his father believe he still intended to fall in line.
“I'm pleased to hear it,” she said. “And in the name of your… consideration, I'd be willing to give you a sample of what's on the menu.” Her gaze dropped to his trousers. “And of course, take a sample of my own.”
Roman wasn't even tempted. He wanted nothing more than to escape to the locker room in the basement and check his phone before stripping off his clothes to prepare for the fight.
“I'll take it under advisement," he said. Offending Valeriya would not help his situation.
Her eyes flattened to a hard shine. Clearly, she'd read his refusal as a rejection in spite of his attempt to keep things cordial.
“As you wish."
Roman turned toward the bar, downed his last shot, and glanced back at her. “Thanks for stopping by.”
He started through the crowd, his eyes on the black door painted to match the wall at the back of the bar, his mind on his phone and the woman who was quickly becoming an obsession.
22
RUBY
Ruby lifted her head from the couch, trying to see if Olivia was asleep. The TV was still playingThe Princess Bride, one of Olivia’s favorite movies, and the apartment was cast in the faint glow of the lamp next to the sofa.
She leaned forward carefully and saw Olivia’s closed eyes, the shadow of her lashes against her pale cheeks.
Whew. Asleep.
She’d had a vaccination that afternoon and they’d stopped for Friday night pizza on the way home from the pediatrician. They’d just been sitting down to eat and start the movie when a knock had sounded at the door.
At first Ruby had been worried it was Adam. They hadn’t spoken since the incident with Roman yesterday morning, and it wasn’t like Adam to let something like that lie.
But it hadn’t been Adam. It had been a delivery guy holding a giant pink bakery box and a vase of the most gorgeous red peonies Ruby had ever seen.
She smiled when she thought about the card with Roman’s number written on it:
So you can celebrate life.
Call me. Text me. I don’t care.
Just let me see you again.
— Roman
Olivia had squealed with delight over the cake and Ruby had forced herself to wait a couple of hours to text Roman and say thank you. Her cheeks were hot, her pulse racing, her body on fire when she thought of him. She’d needed to compose herself before she texted him.
She eased off the couch and reached for her phone, opening to the last text Roman had sent.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Was she being love-bombed?
Maybe. But it felt damn good.
She thought about something Brooke always said — that the only difference between stalking and attentiveness was how into the other person you were.
Was it true?
