All I've Never Wanted(139)

He was silent.

“Please?” I grabbed his hands. “Look, I’ve learned in the past few weeks just how much we take things—and people—for granted, and you wouldn’t want anything to happen while you’re still on bad terms with your parents, do you?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be on good terms with my dad,” Roman said in a hard voice. “Not without turning into a jackass like him.”

“Ok, not your dad,” I amended quickly. I knew better than to push it. Besides, he was right. His dad was kind of a jackass. “But your mom, ok? Please just try to talk to her?”

He blew out a breath and gazed up at the sky for a moment, before returning his eyes to mine. “Is it really that important to you?”

“Yes. And I know it’s important to you too, no matter what you say,” I ventured gently.

Roman shook his head. “Fine, I’ll do it,” he agreed reluctantly, resting his forehead against mine. “You better give me a big, fat kiss right now.”

Without a word, I grabbed him and pressed my lips against him, enjoying the explosion of tingles that erupted inside me at the familiar, delicious sensation. Even though there was no tongue, it was so long and lingering and filled with emotion that it was actually more passionate than any French kiss could be.

“That good enough?” I breathed, when I finally had to break for ear.

Roman’s eyes were glazed over. “Um…I’m not sure, can you do that again?” he mumbled, causing me to giggle.

And so we kissed again. And again. And again, until I finally, reluctantly pulled away. As much as I wanted to spend the whole night kissing him, I had to wake up early tomorrow for my family’s weekly Sunday morning brunch.

“Good night,” I whispered against his lips, not wanting to let go.

“Good night.” He gave me one last peck. “I love you.”

I stifled a smile. For someone who didn’t do the emotional, mushy thing, he’d been quite emotional and mushy tonight, at least in Roman world. Not that I was complaining.

I looked up at him, feeling like I was going to burst from happiness. “I love you too.”

CHAPTER 32

The last time Roman went into his parents’ suite was when he was eight. He had been playing hide-and-seek with Carlo and Adriana—Zack had been sick and Parker out of the country—and accidentally stumbled in on his father with a woman who was most definitely not his mother. His father promptly kicked him out, after threatening him with a beating if he ever told Giselle, and also fired the nanny—who’d been his favorite so far. That, combined with the mental scarring that came from watching your parents (or at least one of your parents) do it was enough for Roman to give the master suite wide berth for the next ten years.

Now, as he approached his parents’ wing of the house, his nerves were stretched taut, and he was half-tempted to turn back and go to the basketball courts, which always calmed him down. But he couldn’t, since he’d promised Maya.

Roman took a deep breath, trying to picture her face, and after a few more seconds, his heart rate slowed down to normal.

He stared at the closed double doors, before finally, tentatively knocking on the custom wood.

A brief pause, then “Come in!”

Roman turned the knob and stepped into the vast, hushed suite, which was decorated in pale cream and rich burgundy. His mother was lying on the canopied bed in a silk nightgown, skimming through a thick, glossy magazine.

When she saw him, she immediately put down the magazine and sat up, the range of emotions on her face flitting from surprise to pleasure to nervousness.

Was she actually sober? He found it a bit hard to believe.

“Oh, hello dear.” Giselle reached up to fiddle with her diamond pendant. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too.” The fact they were talking like polite strangers was not lost on Roman as he dutifully gave her a cheek kiss. “Are you busy?”


Translation: Are you drinking?

“No, no,” she replied quickly. “Come, sit next to me.” She patted the space next to her.

Instead, Roman took a seat in the chair near her bed. He felt awkward and uncomfortable, and judging from the look on Giselle’s face, he wasn’t the only one.

They descended into silence.

“So, how are you and Maya doing?” she finally asked.

“Good.” Roman wished he’d brought along his phone so he’d have something to do with his hands. He settled for gripping the chair’s armrests, digging his fingers into the delicate brocade. “We have our anniversary Saturday.”

“That’s good.” Giselle smiled. “She’s a wonderful girl. I take it she’s forgiven you for the hospital prank?”

Roman cracked a smile. “You could say that.” More like she’d gotten him back good, so they were even. “You did a good job the other day. With the prank,” he said spontaneously, feeling a bit more generous for some reason.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably, but Giselle looked like she was about to burst into tears of joy.

“I figured it was the least I could do,” she said quietly, her eyes swimming.

He really hoped she wasn’t going to cry. He did not deal well with crying people.