All I've Never Wanted(62)

“Why don’t you go and call him and Carlo then?” Roman interrupted, pushing himself off the wall. “See if they can come.”

“Sure. You go tell your chefs the plan,” Adriana agreed with an oddly smug expression on her face.

“Fine,” Roman muttered.

I looked at him, surprised he was being so agreeable. Our eyes met for the briefest second, before he quickly averted his. I felt strangely disappointed. He had barely talked to me all morning.

I hadn’t expected a welcoming party or anything, but after Wednesday night, I expected a bit more…well, friendliness. Looks like that wasn’t going to happen, although I still couldn’t quite believe he’d agreed to me living with him.

Adriana’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Gosh, Carlo seriously needs to answer his phone,” she complained. “This is an emergency!”

I laughed. Of course she would consider a last-minute get-together an emergency. I hoped Carlo could make it though. I missed his company.

* * *

Six hours later, I was in the Fioris’ restaurant-sized kitchen, my mouth watering from the delicious smells that enveloped me. The chefs—yes, plural—were doing a fantastic job of whipping up a last-minute dinner for six. In fact, they were doing such a good job I couldn’t help but sneak a shrimp from the tray of shrimp cocktails on the counter. Oh, god, that was good. If I kept eating like this for two weeks, my parents won’t even recognize me when they came back.

“You haven’t even been here for a day and you’re already stealing stuff, huh?”

I snapped my head up to see Roman stroll in, a smirk on his face. He’d changed into a casual button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans. He looked even hotter than this morning.

I wanted to kick myself. When did I start going gaga over his looks like every other girl on the planet?

They probably put something in the shrimp…

“I’m hungry,” I defended myself.

He brushed past me and opened a cabinet, pulling out a box of Pop-Tarts. I tried to ignore the way his arm muscles flexed when he did that, but failed miserably.

“You know dinner’s going to be served in less than an hour, right?”

To my surprise, Roman hopped up and sat on the counter, nearly knocking over the shrimp cocktails. A chef hurried over to pull them out the way.

“An hour’s way too long,” I complained, eyeing his Pop-Tarts.

He took a bite out of his and raised his eyebrows. “Want one?” He held out the box.

Wow, he was actually acting like a normal human being. “Yeah, tha—“ I stopped and scowled when he pulled the box back at the last minute.

Never mind, then.

“That’s mean,” I huffed.

“Never said it wasn’t.” Roman smirked, finishing off his Pop-Tart.

I frowned. For someone so refined in public, he was kind of a pig in his own house. “I never figured you for a Pop-Tart person. Don’t you usually snack on caviar or the heads of the people you annoy to death or something?”

“Usually, but they get stale after a while,” he responded blithely, tearing open another package.

I stared at him, shocked he didn’t respond with his usual snarky sarcasm. “D-did you just make a joke?” I stuttered.

Roman stared at me blankly. “No, I was serious.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew he had a sense of humor? He was pretty good at keeping a straight face too. “Nice one.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Roman hopped off the counter and tossed the box of Pop-Tarts at me.

I let out a yelp, managing to grasp it just in time before it hit the floor.

“Knock yourself out,” he called over his shoulder. “Just don’t spoil your dinner, or Anthony will be furious. You don’t want to make him mad.”

I glanced over at where the head chef was methodically slicing vegetables. I gulped when I saw him shred a cucumber into a million different slices in less than thirty seconds, then quickly put the Pop-Tart box back into the cabinet and ran after Roman.

“Hey! Stop leaving me behind, I’ve already gotten lost five times,” I said, a bit annoyed.

Zack and Adriana had gone home earlier but were coming back for dinner. I wasn’t sure if Parker and Carlo would be able to make it though.

Roman did look at me as he continued to wind his way through the mansion’s seemingly endless halls. “You seemed to have found the kitchen ok.”

“I just have a good sense of smell,” I muttered. “It would’ve been nice if you could’ve showed me around though. Just a little bit.”


He stopped and looked at me with yet another smirk. “That desperate to spend more time with me, huh?”

My mouth flopped open at his audacity, which only caused his smirk to grow more. “Wh—no!” I resisted the urge to stamp my foot childishly. “I would just like to be able to get around this house without getting lost for the next two weeks!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Chill out, I’ll show you around later. Besides, there’s a map in your room.”

Yeah, too bad I couldn’t read maps. I mean, no one uses them anymore now that Google Maps exist.

We started walking again, and I made sure to stay close in case he tried to ditch me. When I tried exploring by myself earlier, I’d ended up in an art gallery filled with paintings that were even creepier than the Mona Lisa. I don’t care what anyone says about that being a great piece of art, because the way her eyes follow you around is just creepy.