A Game with One Winner

But no, that was another time. She’d been younger, more carefree, and unaware of the profound sadness life could bring. She knew better now. If she kissed him—if she let herself fall into him—it would only hurt worse once she had to disengage again.

“I’m glad to hear it, Roman. We weren’t right for each other. You know it as well as I.”

He snorted. “You mean that you were too good for me. That Caroline Sullivan deserved someone far better than the son of a Russian laborer. The peasant blood that runs through my veins would sully your bloodline.”

“I was young,” she said, shame twisting inside her at the things she’d had to let him believe that night. But it had been the only way. She’d had to burn the bridge behind her or risk tiptoeing across it again. “And that was not precisely what I said.”

“You didn’t have to. I understood your meaning quite clearly.”

Caroline took a deep breath. There was too much pain here, too many memories. Too many what-ifs. “I know you don’t understand, but it was the only choice I had.”

It wasn’t an explanation, but it was more than she’d said five years ago.

He looked at her in disbelief. “You would dare to say such a thing? To suggest you had no choice in your actions that night? What sort of tale of woe do you intend to ply me with, Caroline?”

Before she could dredge up an answer, the taxi came to a stop and the driver announced over the tinny speaker that they’d arrived at the first destination. Caroline turned her head to stare blindly at the unfamiliar house, before she remembered that she’d purposely given the wrong address.

She drew in a calming breath and turned back to face the angry man beside her. “Good night, Roman.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, his tone clipped, as she reached for the handle.

“No,” she blurted. “I don’t want that.”

“Then I will wait until you are safely inside before leaving.”

Caroline licked suddenly dry lips. “No, don’t do that. It’s fine. This neighborhood is quite safe. I sometimes take walks later than this just to clear my head.”

It wasn’t true—the walks, anyway—but she didn’t want him to stay, since she couldn’t enter the house they’d stopped in front of. She didn’t even know who lived here. She knew her immediate neighbors on her street, but not those any farther afield.

Why had she panicked when he’d gotten into the taxi? Why hadn’t she simply given her address instead of lying? Now she was caught like a fish on a hook, and he was watching her with more than a little curiosity in his gaze.

“I am not so coarse as to leave a lady on a darkened street. I insist.”

He reached across her, intending to pull the handle. She reacted blindly, turning into him and pressing her mouth to his throat. The first touch was shocking. His skin was warm, his pulse a strong throb in his neck, and something soft and needy quivered to life in her core.

She didn’t know what she was doing, except that she had to get him away from here before he figured out this wasn’t where she lived. She’d wanted to distract him before he could ask questions, but she hadn’t bargained on the feelings pulsing to life inside her. She felt as if she’d touched a hot iron. Logic dictated she pull away, but fear drove her onward. An irrational fear, certainly, but she was committed now.

Roman gripped her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat.

“What is this, Caroline? Moments ago, you proclaimed your intention not to sleep with me.”

She sucked in a breath. Her body was still sizzling with heat and need from that single contact. What she said next wasn’t precisely untrue in light of that fact. “I’m lonely, Roman. It’s been a long time, and—and I miss having a man in my bed.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “Really? How perfectly convenient.”

She reached for him, tried to put her arms around his neck and pull him closer, so she could blot out the maddening voice in her head that screamed she’d lost her mind. She hadn’t lost her mind, but she cared more about Ryan than she did herself. She would protect her child with every breath left in her body.

If she’d just given the correct address in the first place, she could’ve left Roman in the car. But she’d panicked, and if he found out she’d lied, he would wonder why. He would want to know what she was hiding.

Caroline choked on a silent laugh. God, she had so many things to hide, didn’t she? Ryan, her father, the state of Sullivan’s finances.

“Take me to your place,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. She only hoped he would chalk it up to desire and not fear.

Roman still held her at arm’s length, his dark gaze raking over her face as if he could ferret out all her secrets. She lifted her chin and stared back, willing him to believe her. And it wasn’t so hard, really, since a part of her did want him.

A part she could not indulge, no matter the dangerous game she played.

Roman let her go and told the driver to continue to the address he’d given. Caroline slumped against the seat. She’d thought she would be relieved, but instead the tension in her body wound tighter. She kept expecting Roman to reach for her, to enfold her in his arms and take what she’d been offering.

But he didn’t, and that disconcerted her. He should be trying to kiss her, not sitting beside her like a large, silent mountain.

Ten minutes later, the car stopped at another location, and Caroline’s pulse spiked. She had to get away from him, had to go home and lock herself away in her bedroom while she processed everything that seeing him again had made her feel.

“I’m feeling a little unwell,” she said, as Roman swiped a credit card through the reader. “Maybe I should go home, after all.”

Roman didn’t even look at her. “If you are unwell, then you must come up and let me get you something for your …”

“Head,” she blurted. “I feel a migraine coming on.”

“Pity,” he replied, as he took the receipt the driver handed to him, and ushered her from the car before she could think of how to get him to leave without her.

“You’ll just need to call another one,” she said as he led her toward the glass doors of a tall building. “I really should get home. My child needs me.”

“Funny you did not think of this when you were sitting in front of your doorstep.”

“I—I was overwhelmed.”

Roman punched in an entry code and the doors slid open. “By sudden desire for me, yes. I am very flattered.” Except that he didn’t sound flattered at all. He sounded bored. “Now come and take something for your head.”

Caroline hesitated a moment, but where would she go if she didn’t go inside? This was the financial district at night, not Times Square. The taxis were fewer, the bustle much less. Did she want to stand on the street in an evening dress and frantically wave at taxis?

In the end, she entered the building, walking in silence beside the man she’d once loved, as he led her past a desk staffed with a security guard, and into a private elevator. The ride up was quick, and she was hardly surprised when the doors opened at the penthouse. Roman exited the elevator. She followed, her heart hammering as she stepped inside the masculine space.

A wall of windows lined the entire front of the apartment, looking out over the Manhattan skyline. The space was open from one end to the other, each area flowing into the next: the kitchen with its huge marble-topped island and stainless appliances, the dining room, the living room in which they stood, and onward toward the bedroom she could see through the open door to her right.

Roman left her standing in the living room. She heard the clink of glassware, and then liquid being poured. He returned a moment later with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“For your headache,” he said, when she didn’t move to take them from him.

“Oh, yes,” she blurted. “Thanks.”

She took the water and then Roman shook two aspirin into her hand. She popped them in her mouth and swallowed them down. She truly did have a headache, but it was due to stress and not a migraine.

Roman went and opened a sliding door to a large terrace. After a moment’s hesitation, Caroline followed him outside. The night air was cool this high up, the breeze that ruffled her hair refreshing. She’d laid her small purse on a table inside, but she’d kept her wrap. She pulled it tighter and gazed out over the city.

“Is this yours?” she asked.

“Da. I bought it over a year ago.”