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“What are you doing?” He’s watching me in the rearview mirror as I unbutton the coat and rip it off.
“Taking off this damn coat.” The seatbelt is in the way, so I have to unbuckle myself.
“Watch your mouth and put your belt back on,” he admonishes.
“Just give me a second.” I can feel the snark in my words, but I’m too annoyed to care. I wiggle the coat from beneath me and shove it into the seat beside me before I grab for the belt again.
“You could have asked to have the heat turned down,” he says.
“Does that mean if I ask nicely, you’ll take me home?” I find his gaze in the mirror.
“You could try.” Wrinkles pop up around his eyes, like he’s finding this exchange amusing. Fine, I can play this game. Especially if it gets me home tonight.
“Roman, will you please drop me off at home, my home?” I push it a little, adding too much saccharine to my tone, but I’m trying.
He raises an eyebrow, and I realize my mistake.
“You called me Roman.” He shakes his head. “That’s too bad.”
I fist my hands as the SUV turns into an underground garage. “I’m not calling you that word.” I give a pointed look to the driver.
“Mikhail doesn’t speak a word of English, and even if he did, he knows better than to comment on things that aren’t his business.”
The SUV turns down a long drive, coming to a stop in front of the largest house I’ve ever seen. Roman climbs out of his seat and opens my door. He reaches across my body to snag his coat, dragging it over my lap as he takes it out of the car. When I reach to unbuckle my belt, he brushes my hand away and hits the button himself, pulling the belt across my torso and letting it snap back in its rightful place.
“I can unbuckle myself,” I mutter as I hop out of the car, ignoring his hand. I can’t have him thinking what he said earlier has any real meaning to me. It’s been a long time since that word held weight in my heart, and I’m not about to let him take it off the shelf I stuffed it onto.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,malyshka.” He drops his coat over my shoulders and gestures down the brick walkway. “Let’s get inside.” He steps ahead of me and without any option to do otherwise, I follow him.
Most of the house is dark, save for a soft yellow light deep in the house. The porch light burns bright just inside of the brick arch of the entranceway. A wind blows across the lawn, rustling the oversized coat draped over my shoulders. I pull it tighter and hurry up the walkway, meeting Roman at the front door.
After he unlocks the door and punches in a security code on the keypad, he pushes it open and sweeps his arm behind me, pressing his hand to my back.
Once inside, he flicks on the lights, and I’m taken aback by the coziness of the house. Dark wood flooring throughout the front hallway leads into a room to the right, to the left, and then down another hall toward the back of the house. But it’s the curved wooden staircase that grabs my attention.
He takes the coat from my shoulders and brings it to a closet near the front door. “You thought I’d live in a cold castle or something?”
“No.” I shake my head, still letting the warmth of the place wash over me. “I expected a more modern place, sharp edges, a lot of white and gray. I didn’t picture you as a colonial sort of house owner.”
“It was built in nineteen-twenty. A lot of the woodworking is the original.” He steps to the wooden arch leading into the room on the right and runs his hand over it. “It feels like home, this house.”
He looks around with pride at the home he’s created here.
“The condo was nice too,” I say, speaking of the condo where we first met two years ago.
He nods. “It is. My cousin and my brothers still use the one you stayed in as well as the one across the hall. But like I said, I’m here permanently. This is a home.”
His chest puffs up when he says this, and a small smile picks up the corner of his mouth. This softer side of him makes him even more attractive. But I don’t have time to dwell on it. He’s in a good mood. I need to clear the air while he’s feeling so generous.
“Roman, about the club. Giselle just said that to the guy because he wouldn’t let go of me, and we couldn’t find a security guy. I didn’t know you were at the club, and I really didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”
Roman runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’m not angry that you used my name to protect yourself from that asshole,” he says.
“Oh.” A boulder rolls off my chest. “Good, then.”
“But.” He leans his shoulder against the door frame. “Your deception has put us in a situation. Before you were brought in, Yefim was starting to talk about his daughter. He was getting around to suggesting a marriage between us.”
A fist of jealousy punches my gut. I squeeze my hands closed, digging my fingernails into my palms, an attempt to hide my reaction. I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with him. There is no reason for me to feel this way, and yet, there is a lead ball sitting in my stomach.
