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“Yes.” I continue to play along, not sure where he’s going with this. “That would be her.”
“Have to say, I’m a bit worried for her.”
Brows knitting, I ask, “Why?”
My sister and I are still not on speaking terms, and just a few days ago, she packed up her room and informed me she’d be out by the end of the week. Her things were still there by the time I left for work today, but tonight I’m fully anticipating coming home to a truly empty home for the first time in my life.
“She seems to think the world revolves around her,” he says. “I worry if no one ever tells her, she’ll go the rest of her life believing that’s true.”
Our gazes hold, and there’s a softness to his that wasn’t there last time.
A knowingness.
“You’re a good sister,” he says. “And an even better person. You didn’t deserve what she put you through.”
“Neither did you.”
“I’d like to take you out sometime, Sloane Sheridan.” He says my full name with a playful half smile on his lips.
“I’d like that. Roman, was it? I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names . . .”
“Roman, yes.” His eyes glint with amusement.
“Sloane?” Brenna’s voice cuts like a knife through the soft music and dull timbre of conversation. We lock eyes from across the room, and she waves me over. “Sloane, I need you over here, please.”
“I have to go,” I tell him.
He says nothing, simply pins me into place with that heavy gaze of his. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves a small paper folder, no bigger than a credit card. Opening the folder, I’m met with a hotel logo and a room key.
“Room 1217,” he says. “See you tonight.”
With that, he swipes a champagne flute from a nearby catering tray and disappears into a crowd of his biggest fans.
I don’t see him the rest of the evening, though I don’t stop searching for him until the final guest leaves shortly after ten. I’d hoped he’d stay to eavesdrop a bit and relish in all the sung praise, but then again, that’s never been Halcyon’s style.
“Some of us are going to grab some drinks after this . . . You want to come?” Annette, one of our brokers, asks when we’re locking up after the exhibit. “I think we’re meeting at Hillsborough Tavern.”
“Actually, I have plans. Thanks, though,” I say, fighting like hell to keep a dopey grin from forming on my face. If they only knew I was on my way to spend the night with the Halcyon, they’d die. They would cease to exist.
I’m not quite certain how I’m still existing myself.
I’m pretty sure I’ve been floating on air since the moment I saw Roman’s face tonight.
Waiting out front, I pull up my phone to order an Uber—just in time to spot a familiar black Escalade pulling up to the curb. The passenger-side window rolls down, and the driver leans over.
“Antonio,” I say, approaching the car. “What are you doing here?”
“A little birdie told me the exhibit just got over, and I happened to be in the area,” he says with a wink that tells me Roman arranged for all of this, down to the last detail of this evening.
“You know where we’re going?” I ask when I climb in. Only I don’t take the back seat this time. I sit beside him, up front. I’m not some princess needing to be driven around the city, and he doesn’t work for me.
“What kinda question is that?” he asks, pretending to be offended.
“I’m Sloane, by the way.”
“I know who you are,” he says, before pointing. “I know all about you and your sister. I had one of those, you know.”
“A sister?”
“A narcissist,” he says.
“Margaux’s not a . . .” My voice fades as I consider—for the first time ever—that there’s an explanation for my sister and all her ways.
“They’re sneaky little devils. Make you think everything wonderful is their idea and everything awful is your fault,” he says. “I was married to one once. Worst nine years of my life. Thought I was going crazy by the end of it. But that’s what they do. They get in your head and make you question everything. Anyway, sorry. I know it’s your sister we’re talking about. Don’t want to offend you or anything. Just think it’s shitty what she roped you into, that’s all. Family shouldn’t do that to family.”
“I agree,” I say. “Which is why I plan on setting some boundaries . . . eventually . . . we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”
“I heard.”
“Yeah?” I’m not sure where he could have possibly heard that.
“Roman met up with your sister last Saturday.”
“What?” I’m surprised, though I’m not surprised she didn’t mention it to me. She’d have to break her silent treatment to do that, and she’s not about to lose that war.
