“Roman!” she cried. “I can’t walk around with a phone worth that kind of money! And who is likely to buy a phone that costs that much?” she asked with sudden puzzlement. “Have you thought this through?”
“Your half brother would easily pay that much for this phone,” he stated flatly, then quirked a brow as he added pithily, “When it goes to market it will retail for a few hundred dollars, competing with the rest of the smartphones. At the moment, however, the technology is fresh and incredibly secure to use. Far better than anything else currently available. My competitors would be extremely interested in breaking it down before it’s released.”
“And you’re trusting me with it?” she asked with awe, hugging the hard shape to her breast. She swallowed back a rush of emotion, moved to tears. “I mean, the way we met...”
“I trust you, Melodie,” he said, sounding sincere.
She melted inside. Of all the gifts he could have given her, his trust was the most touching. It cracked the last of her resistance against letting him support her. She wanted rather desperately to stay with him and see where this relationship could go.
That afternoon she used the credit card he’d given her for the first time—in a lingerie shop. She figured the purchase was really for him, and he was highly appreciative when she modeled it for him later.
And since they were getting along so beautifully, when she sprawled atop him, her lacy underthings askew, and he said, “I have to be in Germany on Tuesday,” she lifted her head and said, “Do you mind if I charge a suitcase to the card? You’ve bought me too many outfits. They won’t all fit in mine.”
“I told you what your limit was. Charge anything you like to it.” He tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear. “But leave a few things here for when we come back.”
“When will that be?” she asked with surprise.
“I don’t know. Probably not until after the summer. I have some meetings in Italy next month and I thought we could spend some time on my yacht after that, but eventually we’ll come back here.”
After the summer. The words sent a funny, exciting sensation into the pit of her belly. Maybe they did have a future.
* * *
Roman was in a perfect place. Of all the women he’d dated over the years, few had been such a good match for him on every level as Melodie. Definitely the sex was better than any man had a right to, sometimes playful, sometimes erotic, always intensely satisfying. Professionally, he couldn’t ask for a better partner by his side. She not only sparkled like a sapphire, lighting up a room, but she knew how to strike exactly the right balance of warmth with boundaries. Aside from the sparest of details such as where they might have eaten dinner or which part of a city they were staying in, she shared nothing of their private life with anyone.
When they were alone she was equally capable of being a charming, amusing companion, yet always respected his retreat after questions such as, “Do you know anything about your father?” and “What were the foster homes like? Were you safe there?”
No, he didn’t know anything about his father. No, he hadn’t always been safe. There’d been good ones and bad ones, the most important thing being that they had been impermanent. Buying the house in France, along with being a status symbol, was also his way of creating a proper home for himself. A place he could and always would return to. Why France? He liked the climate.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t simply say that to her. Because he had long ago programmed himself to keep such things private, he supposed.
And she seemed okay with the status quo, so he didn’t see any need to change.
Until she had an issue with her phone and he wound up being called in to help troubleshoot. That was when he learned Melodie not only had been looking for work in Virginia, but also had even looked up one-way flight details for a week from now.
The blood seemed to drain out from his toes, leaving him staring at a screen that didn’t make sense while his agile mind froze, needing a reboot. For a few long minutes he wasn’t even sure he was breathing. All he could think was She can’t leave.
Despite his attempts to keep his feelings for her light, he was struck by how much she was coming to mean to him. It made his joints grate like sandpaper as he rose and went to find her where she was reading her tablet next to the pool off his penthouse here in Rome.
He set down her phone on the table beside her, lowered himself onto the side of the lounger alongside hers and confronted reality in the way he’d learned to do. “You’re thinking of leaving?”