Lie to Me

I didn’t hear from Roman for the next three days.

But I didn’t have much time to dwell on that, as I was completely swamped at work. Mr. Kline didn’t make it any easier.

After updating him on the meeting with Roman, he yelled at me for turning down Roman’s proposal point-blank.

I couldn’t blame him, since I’d let my emotions get the better of me.

He took the matter out of my hands completely and said he would speak to Roman again and see if he could smooth things over. For my clients’ sake, I really hoped he could.

I was in the middle of preparing an application to set aside a judgment against another client when I saw an email pop up from Mr. Kline.

He was informing me that North Shore Investments were no longer interested in my clients’ property and therefore had pulled their bid.

I groaned out loud. Strangely, I’d had no other offers since North Shore Investments had put in their bid, and now I’d messed things up for my clients.

I was in a terrible mood when I walked out the office building at the end of that day, fully intending to go to the gym to work myself out of this funk.

As soon as I pushed through the glass doors of the building onto the sunlit street, I saw Roman lounging against the black town car, his phone in his hand as he tapped out a message.

Seeing him only added to my anger.

As if sensing my presence, he looked up and our eyes locked. I would never get over how green his eyes were. Against the darkness of his three-piece suit, they stood out even more.

Damn, he really was gorgeous.

“Get in,” he said.

Get in?

“What? No.” I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder and started walking down the street, dismissing him.

I was surprised that instead of stopping me, he fell into step at my side as I headed in the direction of the gym.

“I’ll give you a lift home, Sloane. I just want to talk,” he said, his long legs easily keeping pace with me.

I shook my head, ignoring the stares and murmurs of passersby as we walked past them. I knew the attention wasn’t for me but the Adonis beside me.

“I’m not going home,” I responded tersely. “Plus we have nothing to talk about.”

He took my elbow then, effectively stopping me and turning me to face him.

I huffed out a breath and stared at his chest, not daring to meet his eyes.

“Five minutes, Sloane,” he said gently. “You’re always trying to run away from me.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

“That’s because I recognize trouble when I see it, Braga.”

“You don’t strike me as a good girl, Miss St. James,” he quipped, clearly referring to my club ensemble.

Oh, if he only knew.

“You think I don’t know men like you, Roman?”

I saw the expression on his handsome face change. He got angry then.

“You don’t know me, Sloane, but I’m giving you the opportunity to get to know me.”

When I didn’t immediately respond, he continued pushing.

“One dinner, Sloane. What could it hurt?”

It might cost him nothing, but me? It could mean everything I’d worked so hard for.

I could feel my walls coming down and knew I was going to give in. The man was tenacious. I’d agree to one dinner.

One. To discuss business. And hopefully get him back on board with his bid on my clients’ property.

“Fine, but I’m not sleeping with you.” Best to get it all out in the open from the start.

His lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. He took a card from his pocket and slipped it into the pocket of my coat, just above my left breast.

I could feel the heat of that contact through the layers of clothing.

“Text me your address and I’ll pick you up at seven.”

He didn’t wait for a response, but walked to the Town Car that had been idling nearby, got in, and drove away.

***Heather called while I was deciding on a dress, and I filled her in on Roman.

I even sent her a photo of him on the cover of a real estate magazine I’d found online so she’d understand what I was battling.

“He’s freaking gorgeous!” Heather commented, and I heard Justin protest in the background.

“Sorry, babe, but he is,” I heard her mutter at him.

“He totally knows it, too,” I replied, holding up a navy off-the-shoulder dress in front of the full-length mirror.

I scrunched up my nose and threw it on the bed to join the pile. “I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place.” As soon as his car had driven away, I had regretted my decision.

“Did you look at that picture? You know why,” Heather responded, clearly the voice of reason.

I sighed. She was right. I looked at the clock then.

“I’m running late, Heather. The car will be here in less than twenty minutes.”

“Ok, shoo! But call me tomorrow. I want all the details.”

I promised I would before hanging up and throwing the phone on the bed next to the pile of clothes.

I picked up a fitted black dress that ended just above my knee and had a sweetheart neckline that wasn’t too provocative and still could be business-like, and decided to go with that.

I had just capped my lip gloss when a knock sounded at the door.

I left my hair down, the waves brushing my shoulders gently to cascade down my back, and slipped on black high-heeled sandals and grabbed a matching clutch.

I opened the door and heard his swift intake of breath as he took me in from head to toe.

“Jesus, Sloane. Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed, watching as I locked the door behind me.

He didn’t look too shabby himself in a navy cashmere sweater and gray slacks. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and that dark growth on his chin and cheeks made him look even sexier.

I’d have to watch myself around him.

His choice of words, meant to amuse, instead made me frown as they dredged up memories best left hidden. He noticed, of course.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he took my elbow.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I brushed it off quickly as we reached the car and a middle-aged man opened the door for me.

He had a buzzcut and wore a sports jacket over a shirt, and I knew the bulk on him wasn’t all muscle. He looked like he was packing, which made me curious.

“This is Max, my driver,” Roman introduced casually.

I looked at him dubiously.

Driver? Uh huh.

Max tipped his head at me. “Miss St. James.”

“Nice to meet you, Max,” I replied politely as Roman helped me into the car before following me in.

I felt like he was deliberately crowding me so that all I could smell and feel was him.

The partition separating us from the driver was down, and that gave me some comfort that Roman wouldn’t try anything. I wouldn’t put it past him otherwise.

“You’re very quiet,” Roman mused, looking at me with a frown.

“It’s been a rough day,” I admitted. I looked out the window to avoid his probing gaze so I wouldn’t fall under his spell.

“Is that because I pulled out of the bidding for your clients’ property?” he asked.

I turned to him.

“Actually, yes,” I responded a little heatedly.

He shrugged.

“You said you didn’t want to mix business with pleasure,” he explained. “So I took the business part of it out for you.”

It was my turn to frown as he made his intentions clear.

“This isn’t a date, Roman.”

“No?” he queried. “I’m no longer a client, Sloane. We don’t have to talk about work.”

I waited a beat and then gave him a level look.

“Listen, Roman,” I began, trying to keep my voice neutral.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“You need to put your bid back in the ring for the StarFish Inn. I was wrong to dismiss your offer without my clients’ consent.” The admission cost me, but I swallowed my pride.

He watched me carefully as if trying to read me.

“Let’s talk business later, Sloane,” he finally said. “For now, let’s enjoy dinner and get to know each other.”

I had no choice. He held all the cards, and he knew it. But how was I going to get through Roman’s questions without lying to him about, well, everything?

I leaned back against the plush leather and tried to figure out how much of a liar I was going to be.