Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
I gave the driver my Kensington address and hoped to hell I wouldn’t regret it.
3
CHANCE
Where was I?
I sat up gingerly and surveyed the shadowy bedroom, furnished with a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a massive desk under a wide window covered in thick natural linen drapery. The duvet matched the curtains, complementing the Persian rug and a hodgepodge of tasteful scenic paintings on the walls. It was nice for sure, but it definitely wasn’t my hotel room.
Oh, fuck.
I shot a panicky glance at the pillow next to me.
Okay, so I’d slept alone. That was good.
I swung my legs to the side of the mattress, frowning at the hearts sprinkled all over my boxers. Um…these weren’t my boxers, and this wasn’t my T-shirt.
Fuckety fuck. I jumped out of bed and immediately stepped into a bucket of some kind. It clanked loudly when I kicked it off my foot, rolling across the hardwood flooring with a jarring ka-dunk, ka-dunk.
I licked my parched lips, wincing when my stomach roiled and my brain pounded like a drum against my skull. I wondered if I was going to be sick, but the second the thought materialized, the fog cleared along with my memory. I remembered stumbling out of a cab and up two flights of narrow stairs. I vaguely remembered someone helping me with my shoes before racing me to the bathroom and—
Oh, my God.
Snapshots of the previous evening clicked into place. Terrible date, great karaoke…Roman.
I drew the curtain, shying away when sunlight splintered my gray matter. It couldn’t be that late.
“What time is it?” I grumbled, rubbing my stubbled jaw.
“Half one,” a deep, rumbly voice replied.
I spun on my heels with my mouth wide open, unsure where to begin. An apology, a thank-you, maybe even a fuck-you.…Words weren’t my friend without caffeine and if it was really one thirty in the afternoon, I was going to have a difficult time navigating this one.
If I was going to unravel in a foreign country, was an audience necessary? And better question…did it have to be this man?
Roman stepped into the room, instantly taking over the space. The combination of his height, broad shoulders, and broody presence made him seem intimidating as fuck even in a navy V-neck sweater, casual jeans, and bare feet. His hair flopped roguishly over his right eye, which should have softened his sharp features, but…it didn’t. He was devilishly handsome and sexy and— I think I puked on his shoes last night. Oh, please let this be a bad dream.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping for a scene change and a new cast when I opened them again.
Nope. I was still in Roman’s guest room, standing three feet from the man himself, wearing his T-shirt and—
“Are these your boxers?” I asked, plucking at the silky red fabric.
One corner of his mouth twisted in wry amusement. “They were a gift. You can have them. How are you feeling?”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’ve been better. I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He waved dismissively and moved to the doorway. “Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
He smiled kindly. “You got it. I’ll make toast and bacon too.”
“Thank you. Coffee is fine, but—” I paused to look around the immaculate room. “I need my clothes.”
“Trust me. You don’t want your clothes.”
“Huh?”
“I threw your socks and underwear in the wash, but your suit and shirt needed to be dry-cleaned. They’ll be ready tomorrow. I’ll grab a pair of sweatpants and socks for you. You’re welcome to shower. The toothbrush on the counter is the one you used last night. I’ll leave clothes on the banister for you. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.”
Roman was gone before I could thank him or protest. I decided I wasn’t ready to deal with the fuzzier parts of last night that had resulted in my clothing immediately needing to be dry-cleaned. I headed for the bathroom instead.
The deliciously hot shower under a wide spray felt so amazing, I never wanted to get out. And the thick towel on the warming rack was a slice of nirvana. I dried myself, then wrapped the towel around my waist and wiped steam off the mirror. I scanned the marble-and-glass haven as I brushed my teeth, sighing at the very unwelcome memory of kneeling on the tiled floor in front of the porcelain god.
How was I going to face this man? I’d been a fucking mess last night. Running into traffic, dancing in the rain…and oh…shit. I’d called him daddy.
More than once.
Heat bloomed across my cheeks as I rinsed and patted my mouth dry, but I couldn’t exactly hide in here. I slipped the boxers and tee on and found a pair of gray sweats and black socks perched on the banister post where Roman said they’d be. I finished dressing, finger-combed my short hair, and took one last cleansing breath before following the scent of coffee downstairs.