All I've Never Wanted(68)

“I just took a bath,” I huffed. What, did he think I was going to purposefully spill something over his precious shirt?

Now that he’d agreed to let me stay here until the lights came back on though, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I just wandered over to an armchair near the window and curled up into the plush softness. I was only a little bit surprised when he dropped down into the chair opposite me a minute later.

We sat in silence for a while, but it wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable one. Nevertheless, I never did do well with prolonged silences, so finally, I said, “So…what did you get Zack for his birthday?”

Maybe I can get some ideas.

Roman actually answered without a hint of sarcasm. “A boat.”

I gaped at him. “You got him a boat?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “He crashed his somehow, so I got him an upgrade.”

I gulped. Yeah, there was no way I could afford that. A toy boat, maybe but not a real one. If that was Zack’s gift, I didn’t even want to know how much Adriana’s cost.

“Her gift is different.”

I blinked, coming back to reality. “What?”

Roman looked amused. “I said, her gift is different.”

“Did I just say my thoughts out loud?”

He nodded smugly.

I groaned. Of course that would happen to me. “How is it different?”

“You’ll see.”

How helpful. We lapsed into silence again, before I spoke up, again. It was something I’d wanted to ask for awhile. “Roman…”

“What?”

“Why were you so nice to me after I…you know, after that scene in New York?”

It might’ve been my imagination, but I thought I saw him stiffen a bit. He didn’t answer.

“Is it because you went through the same thing?” I asked quietly. I’d thought about it constantly, and that was the only plausible explanation I could come up with.

I was probably right, judging by the way Roman’s jaw immediately tensed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know, it helps to talk about it—“

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it!”

I snapped my mouth shut, feeling inexplicably hurt. I shouldn’t, I should be used to him yelling and snapping at me, but I still felt hurt nonetheless.

Roman drew in a deep, slightly shaky breath as he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said in a calmer voice. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“It’s ok.” I ran a finger absentmindedly over the soft velvet of the chair’s arm. “I shouldn’t have pried.” I gave him a small smile.

“Be careful, or else apologizing might become a habit.” Despite his words, he returned my smile.

“You’re right, you know,” he said after another prolonged silence.

I raised my head. “What?”

“About me going through the same thing.” Roman didn’t look at me. “When I was younger, my dad…well, he was always away for ‘business.’ Sometimes, it really was for business. Most of the time, though, he was off to see one of his many mistresses, and everyone knows it.” His tone was slightly bitter.

I held my breath, not wanting to say or do anything that might make him clam up again. I couldn’t believe he was confiding in me, of all people, although I supposed I did know what he’s going through.

Roman continued. “He was never home, and when he was, he just locked himself up into his office all day. My mom turned a blind eye to all his…indiscretions, mainly because she didn’t want to lose her status as Mrs. Fiori, but also because she really does love him. Or did. I don’t know.”

He stared out the window, an unusually melancholy expression on his chiseled face. “So after a while, my dad got bolder and bolder, and he even started bringing his mistresses home. I walked in on them a couple of times, you know. The first time was when I was seven. I was so young, I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, so I ran to my mom. She slapped me—“

At this, I let out a quiet but still audible gasp. His mom had slapped her seven-year-old son? For telling her her husband was cheating on her? What kind of mother was she?

“—and told me to never speak of it again.” Obviously, Roman caught the horrified look on my face, because he added, “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not like that. My mom was a fairly good parent, certainly a lot better than my dad, but he just drove her over the edge. She started taking pills, anti-depressants, then added alcohol in the mix. She’s usually boozed or drugged up all the time now. Most of the time, she’s not home either. My dad sends her over to Europe to stay at one of our other houses, to keep her out of the limelight. Being an alcoholic is apparently more shameful than cheating.” Roman’s tone grew more bitter.


I swallowed, not sure what to say. He looked so vulnerable. It was the first time I’d ever seen him that way, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t tug on my heartstrings.

“God, you must think this is just another poor little rich boy story.” The melancholy expression was wiped off of Roman’s face when he turned to look at me. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but…” He took another deep breath. “It feels kind of good to take it off my chest.”