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  He continues to stare at his mug, grunting something unintelligible that could either be “good morning” or “fuck you.” Apparently, Roman Santori isn’t a morning person.

  Shrugging off his surliness, I grab a mug from the top shelf in the cupboard and pour myself a cup. I add a small scoop of sugar along with a dash of cream, then take my first sip.

  It scalds as it slides down my throat.

  Which is precisely the way I prefer it.

  I toast a slice of wheat bread, slather it with butter, and slip into the seat across from Roman.

  He warily watches me over the rim of his mug, angling his body toward the door. He looks ready to bolt at any second.

  I smile, pleased with myself for shaking him to the core with my impromptu striptease. Part of me hopes he’s afraid that I’ll tear my clothes off right now.

  His glare intensifies, as does the suspicion filling his eyes.

  I’m tempted to tell him what I find so amusing, but I doubt he’d find it as humorous.

  I should be embarrassed about what I did last night. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I’ve never wanted to. But then again, there’s never been a man I wanted as much as I want this particular one.

  What surprised me most was the way Roman ran from my bedroom like his damn ass was on fire. Almost like he was frightened of me.

  That ridiculous thought makes me want to laugh hysterically.

  Roman Santori scared of me.

  Yeah, right.

  “What’s so damn funny?” he grumbles, eyeing me cautiously.

  I do my best to contain my mirth. “Nothing.”

  A flicker of annoyance crosses his normally impassive features. “Seems like something.”

  “Nope, nothing at all.” Nothing I’m going to share with him, anyway.

  Grunting again, he continues drinking his coffee. “You’re awfully chipper this morning.”

  As I open my mouth to speak again, I realize that he’s engaging me in conversation. Well, this is certainly a first.

  Marveling at the flip in our usual dynamic, I say nonchalantly, “All things considered, I slept pretty well last night.” I fell asleep right away and didn’t wake until the alarm clock went off.

  Since there were no further incidents like he assumed, I expect him to say the same. After a few beats of silence, I ask, “You didn’t?”

  His eyes narrow. “No. I slept like shit.”

  “Oh?” Again, I’m surprised by the strange give-and-take of our conversation. “How come?”

  Still glaring, he bites out, “Just did.”

  “Hmmm. That’s weird. I’ve always thought the bed in the guest room was comfortable. You don’t find it so?”

  “The bed is fine.”

  “Good. It has to be better than catching a few hours here and there in your car.”

  Sounding downright ornery, he mumbles, “Maybe I should consider doing that from now on.”

  I shrug as if I don’t care either way. I’ll never admit it, but I sleep better knowing he’s down the hall. The nightmares have stopped, and that has everything to do with Roman staying in the house with me. Rising from the table with my plate and mug in hand, I set them both in the sink and turn to face him. “Suit yourself.”

  As our gazes lock across the tiny kitchen, a spark of desire zips down my spine. Simply being in the same room with Roman sends need hurtling to the surface.

  Breaking eye contact, his eyes fall to my breasts. The frown lines bracketing his mouth deepen. “Is that what you’re wearing to work?”

  I glance down at my cream-colored blouse, black pencil skirt, and heels. Teachers are allowed to dress casually in khakis and polos, but counselors and administrators are expected to wear business attire. My work wardrobe is filled with skirts, sweaters, blouses, and wool pants.

  “Yes.” I frown back at him. “Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?”

  I’ve worn this ensemble a dozen times throughout the year. No one has ever commented that it’s inappropriate. While we’re encouraged to dress professionally, I make a concerted effort to appear approachable to the students. Wearing a suit to school doesn’t necessarily convey that message.

  His expression darkens, storm clouds gathering in his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a bit revealing?”

  My mouth falls open.

  Revealing?

  This?

  With more scrutiny, I glance down at myself. “What are you talking about? I’m not showing any cleavage.” I’ve caught several teenage boys staring when they thought I wasn’t paying attention. Unfortunately for them, I have excellent peripheral vision. “And my skirt hits mid-calf.” Irritated that Roman’s making me second-guess my fashion choices, I cross my arms over my chest and wait for him to elaborate.

  He waves a hand at the general vicinity of my chest. “Your top is a bit snug. I’m just saying you might want to change.”

  I gasp.

  How dare he!

  My blouse is not snug! It’s formfitting. I have large breasts, and I look heavier than I am if I wear loose shirts.

  Gritting my teeth, I stomp over to the refrigerator and grab my lunch from inside. “Go to hell.”

  The table has once again been turned.

  Not bothering to say goodbye, I leave Roman sitting alone in the kitchen. I snatch up my briefcase and purse in the entryway and grab my keys from the ceramic bowl near the front door, catching a glimpse of myself in the beveled mirror hanging above the credenza. Stepping in front of it, I examine my reflection with a critical eye, giving extra scrutiny to my breasts.

  I have no idea what Roman is talking about.

  The blouse is neither snug nor revealing.

  He woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and is taking his bad mood out on me. I’m not sure if his attitude stems from the possible break-in that woke him in the middle of the night or…

  Me dropping my robe in front of him.

  Why would that bother him? It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before. We spent the entire night together in bed doing unmentionable things.

  I shake my head at the questions chasing each other around my brain.

  Why do I care if Roman’s upset?

  Why am I dwelling on it?

  Why am I dwelling on him?

  Like everything else involving Roman Santori, I have no answers. He’s an enigma I’ll never understand. I shouldn’t waste any more time trying. And I shouldn’t let him get under my skin like an annoying rash.

  I shoulder my bags and slam through the front door to head to my car.

  Roman comes through the door and locks it behind him as I crank the engine. He looks at me while heading to his sedan.

  Because I’m still irked by his comments, I flip him the bird.

  Instead of his face turning thunderous, the edges of his lips tip up as he chuckles.

  His reaction makes me angrier. Throwing the car into reverse, I peel out of the driveway. I don’t have to look in the rearview mirror to know that Roman is a car length behind me. I feel his presence.

  Neither of us wants this connection, but it still hums between us, more powerful than ever.

  Chapter Twenty

  As usual, the final bell rings, and students flood out of the school before I can catch my breath. Most of the teachers are right behind them. I’ve been booked solid from the moment I stepped into my office with student appointments, two parent meetings, and class scheduling for next year.

  I normally leave at three, but I stayed after for twenty minutes to finish up paperwork for an early meeting on Monday morning. As I walk down the hall toward the back doors leading to the teacher parking lot, I hear someone calling my name.

  Recognizing the voice, I turn and wait for him to catch up. “Hi, Drew.”

  “Hey! How’s everything going?” He grins.

  “It’s good. Busy as always. How about you? I heard you took your physics class to an amusement park on Wednesday. Everyone have fun?”
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  His smile widens, white teeth flashing in that easy, relaxed manner of his. He tosses his head, his dark blond hair moving from in front of his green eyes. “Are you kidding? Of course, they did. I’m beginning to suspect that most of my students take physics so they get a free trip at the end of the year. Maybe you can tag along as a chaperone next time.” He teasingly elbows me in the side. “You know, see physics in action.”

  I laugh. “Maybe.” It could be fun.

  Bright sunshine warms our faces as we push through the heavy glass doors. May has brought gorgeous weather with its arrival. The students, along with a good number of the staff, are already climbing the walls, in the throes of spring fever. We’ve caught more than a few students trying to sneak out of the building to cut classes. It’s difficult to blame them when the weather is this beautiful, especially after the long winter we endured. But still, everyone needs to keep it together for a couple more weeks, and then we’ll all be able to enjoy a well-deserved break.

  Drew nods toward a group of teachers standing in a huddle, talking in the parking lot. “A few of us are heading to O’Toole’s to grab a beer and throw darts. I thought since your meeting ran long last time, you might be up for joining us.”

  My smile falters as Victor Dmitriyev’s face flickers through my mind. Fear suffuses me as I recall how the knife felt against my neck and how he manhandled me while whispering threats in my ear.

  Drew knows nothing of the attack because I didn’t tell him about it. I haven’t discussed it with anyone other than family.

  I couldn’t report it to the administration or police because it would take less than thirty minutes for the local authorities to figure out I’m a Valentini. And then the life I worked so hard to create would be ruined. I refuse to allow someone with a vendetta against my father to take away my freedom.

  Inhaling deeply, I push all the ugly memories to the back of my mind, where I lock them away and plaster a smile on my face.

  Drinks with coworkers seem like a nice way to end the week. Maybe I should take Drew up on his offer.

  Just as I’m about to tell him that a beer and darts sounds like fun, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. Glancing around the half-empty lot, I glimpse Roman watching us from a few rows away. His eyes are covered with dark sunglasses, but the heat of his gaze singes my skin. Hot, molten lust rushes through me and pools in my core.

  I force my eyes back to Drew. “I would love to,” I say gently, “but I can’t.”

  He steps closer and asks in a low voice, “Just out of curiosity, does this have anything to do with the guy parked in the car over there?”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  Drew jerks his head in the direction of Roman’s nondescript sedan. “He’s been watching us the entire time we’ve been talking.” He arches a brow at me. “Or, I should say, he’s been watching you. I noticed him as soon as we walked out of the building.”

  My mouth dries as I scramble to come up with an answer. “Yes,” I admit, “it has everything to do with him.”

  Eyes turning hard, he straightens to his full height. “Is this guy giving you problems? Stalking you or something? Do you need help?”

  My lips tremble at the corners as I shake my head. “No! I don’t need help. It’s not like that at all.”

  The look he gives me is full of doubt.

  “Drew,” I try again, “you have it all wrong. He’s not stalking me. I promise. In fact, your assumption couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  He glares suspiciously in Roman’s direction. “Then why is he here?”

  I clear my throat knowing that while I can skirt around some of the truth with Drew, the details regarding why Roman’s waiting for me isn’t something I can discuss. That would only open up a can of worms I’m unwilling to deal with. “I asked him to meet me.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Would you tell me if you were in a bad situation?” Reaching out, he grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Look, I’ll help you any way I can. Just say the word, Sofia.”

  Forgetting that Roman’s watching us like a hawk ten yards away, I lift my hand and cradle the side of Drew’s clean-shaven face. I glimpse the longing in his eyes as they soften. I wish I could give him what he wants. And I wish I wanted it as well. My life would be so much less complicated if I could fall for a man like Drew.

  “We’re not together.” Sucking in a breath, I force it out gradually and tell the truth. “Our relationship has never been like that. He,” I pause, searching for the right words to explain our situation, “works for my father. I’m interested, he’s not.”

  Drew bursts out laughing, and my hand falls away in surprise. “Oh, come on! How can you say something so ridiculous? Any man would be lucky to have you. You’re gorgeous, sexy, and smart.”

  Heat stings my cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you for saying that, but—”

  He squeezes my fingers. “No buts. It’s the truth. All I can say is that if he’s not into you, then there’s something wrong with him. You’re perfect in every way.”

  I choke back the argument poised on my tongue and accept his kind words. “Thank you.”

  “Well, I’d hoped that you’d be ready to give us a try in a couple of weeks or months, but by the look on your face, that doesn’t seem very likely. I think it’s going to take more time than either one of us thought before you’re over that guy.”

  My teeth sink into my lower lip because I suspect his assessment of the situation is probably correct. “I’m sorry about this.”

  He smiles ruefully. “You have to love the irony of the situation. You’re hung up on some guy, and I’m hung up on you.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe it’s time for both of us to consider moving on.”

  A chuckle escapes as I shake my head because it’s the best advice I’ve received in a long time. “You might be right about that.”

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about my situation, but there is something I can do about yours,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

  Before I have a chance to ask what he’s talking about, Drew tugs on my hand, reeling me closer. He wraps his arms around my waist and draws me in until my breasts flatten against his chest.

  His face is so close that his breath feathers across my lips. “You ready for this?”

  A grin pulls at the corners of his mouth as it descends onto mine. The kiss lasts for ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. By the time I process the fact that Drew is kissing me—that this is actually happening—he’s already pulling away.

  He winks. “FYI—I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

  My brows shoot up as I gape in shock.

  He slides his fingers under my chin and gently closes my mouth. “That good, huh? I rendered you completely speechless?” His smile broadens. “Trust me, the pleasure was all mine, and I’d be willing to do it again.”

  His playful manner makes me burst into giggles. I can’t believe he did that! And in the school parking lot, no less! I glance around furtively, relieved that no one is paying us any attention. Gossip about a kiss like that would spread like wildfire. Everyone would know about it by the time I walked into school Monday morning. I should be mad at Drew for taking such liberties, but I’m not. I think he was just trying to help.

  Drew’s eyes shift to the side. “If the scowl is any indication, your friend doesn’t look pleased. Maybe he’s not as indifferent as you think he is.”

  My eyes dart in Roman’s direction. With the aviators covering his eyes, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Drew’s right, though—Roman appears to be glowering. But there’s nothing unusual about that.

  “That’s his normal expression,” I mutter.

  “Interesting. So, you’re into the dark and brooding types, huh?” He scratches his chin. “I’ll have to work on that.”

  Turning back to him, I say, “Don’t you dare! I like you just the way you are.”

  He smiles. “Good to know.”

  “Thank
you,” I say, grateful for how he set aside his own feelings to help me with another man.

  “Like I said, it was my pleasure entirely.” He lets go of my hand and steps away. “Well, I should probably get going. Those darts aren’t going to throw themselves. Plus, I have the feeling that if I keep you detained any longer, that guy is going to come over here and pound the hell out of me, and I don’t think my ego could take that.”

  “Okay.”

  He gives me a wave. “I’ll see you on Monday. Have a great weekend.” His expression turns earnest. “Just remember, if you need anything—anything at all—you can always give me a call. Got it?”

  “I will,” I promise, although I know that won’t be necessary. “Have a good weekend, too.”

  I sneak another peek at Roman while heading to my car. His features look as though they’ve been carved from stone. I grew up with men who keep their emotions firmly in check, never allowing anyone to glimpse too much. I get it. It’s a necessity in their line of work. But Roman has one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen.

  The drive to my house takes less than fifteen minutes, which barely gives me enough time to clear my head before I have to face him. His sedan stays a car length behind me the entire time. If I change lanes, he swiftly follows suit. It’s comforting and nerve-racking at the same time.

  A knot forms in the bottom of my belly after I pull into my driveway. Roman enters the house first to make sure the place is clear. I wait a couple of minutes and go inside.

  The front door is ajar. Stepping across the threshold, I pause, listening for Roman’s whereabouts. I don’t know what to expect from him after the last twenty-four hours. I’m not sure where we stand with each other.

  As I move further into the foyer, I glance toward the living room and find him parked on a leather chair with his elbows resting on his knees. He rolls his shoulders while staring at me, and I mentally prepare myself for whatever is about to happen. The air is charged with explosive energy. Roman has the ability to shrink a space that should feel open and airy into something oppressive.

  “I thought you were done with him,” he says.

  Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own. “Why does it matter? I’m free to see whomever I want.”