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“How are you so reserved, when you have a mother who is the exact opposite?”
“By choice,” he grunts. “If I were as whimsical as her, I’d have lost the family fortune a long time ago.”
I glance around the place, suddenly seeing it through new eyes. “Wait. This is your mother’s house, isn’t it?”
Roman nods. “Yes. As well as my childhood home.”
I become completely fascinated with this palatial house, trying to imagine a little Roman running around its halls. Did the staff play with him? Did they celebrate holidays in this room?
Seeing my expression, he chuckles. “I’ll give you a tour.”
How does he know what I’m thinking without me saying a word? Am I that easy to read?
“I’d like that.”
“Good. But first, we’ll dance.” He leads me out to the dance floor. The music switches to a waltz, and ignoring the curious glances and murmurs, Roman glides me around with such grace that I feel like I’m floating.
This monster of a man can dance? He never ceases to amaze me.
I glance up at the ceiling mural. It’s obviously hand painted. The herringbone laid floors beneath us are solid wood. The amount of detail put into the crown molding points to excellent craftsmanship. They’re all signs of extreme wealth of a bygone era.
I knew the De Lucas were a rich family, but this is old money, generational wealth. In comparison, my family is newer money, having only been here for a couple of generations. Papa’s still climbing up the social ladder, still trying to establish the Pontrelli name in this city.
All of that is beneath Roman. He grew up with a guaranteed spot in society. A society where gentlemen are expected to know how to dance, taught proper manners, and though they may appear old-fashioned at times, they are the class who rule the rest of us. Empires are born and fall, even among their own people, while the rest of them just continue to accumulate wealth and status.
That insight casts Roman in a new light. He might be ruthless, but he’s also as well-bred as they come. And he chose me to be his wife.
As we glide across the floor, the world around us seems to fall away until all I know is Roman. His hand on my waist, the heat of his body, those blazing eyes boring into mine. He gazes at me like I’m the center of his universe.
He is, in a word, perfect. I didn’t see it before, but now I do.
And that thought scares me. I’m in danger of catching feelings for this dark knight. If I fall down that rabbit hole, will he fall with me, or will I find myself all alone?
I’ve always figured a loveless marriage is the only version I can have. Not necessarily because I’m undeserving of love, but because duty to my family comes first. Now, with Roman, I’m not so sure what my future holds.
The waltz ends, and for a long moment we simply stare at each other. His gaze caresses my face. My lips part and I sway closer to him, seeking anything he’s willing to give me. So many unspoken words sit in the crackling electricity between us.
Roman finally breaks the spell. “Now for that tour.” He takes my hand in his.
Before we make it far, we’re held up by another of Roman’s associates. He introduces us.
“Sophia, I’d like you to meet Blake Baron, my oldest friend and colleague.”
Hesitantly, I shake the man’s hand. So, this is the Black Baron that everyone whispers about in shadowed corners. He’s not at all what I expected.
He’s a similar height and build to Roman—formidable—but that is where their commonality ends. Mr. Baron has wavy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. His lips are fixed in a sneer, as if he’s perpetually displeased with everyone and everything around him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sounds downright bored.
“Same.” I cast him a thin smile.
Mr. Baron turns his attention to Roman. “I’m on my way out. I’ll be in touch about you know what. I told you it would be in the newspaper, didn’t I?” Without waiting for a reply, he strides away.
What a strange man. I stare at his retreating back, while trying to make sense of his cryptic message. What was in the newspaper?
“What was that all about?” I glance up at Roman, who shrugs. I don’t believe his denial for an instant. But I let it go.
“Come.” He takes my hand again.
