All I've Never Wanted(86)

“Victoria might have left some shoes there.”

My foot twitched. A second passed. Then two. Then, “Deal.”

I stayed on the phone with Carlo for a bit, and he suggested I move out today, which I was perfectly fine with. I didn’t want to stay in a house with that jerk any longer.

The more I thought about yesterday night, the angrier and more embarrassed I felt. I had no idea why Roman did that. I mean, he couldn’t possibly know I like him. Right?

My skin turned cold at the thought. No, there was no way. He was just trying to get on my nerves, that’s all--and he succeeded spectacularly.

I scowled, unable to believe I’d broken down like that. I never cried like that. And I’m definitely not going to do that again, I thought fiercely.

With newfound resolve, I got dressed, yanked open the doors of my suite, and stomped down to the kitchen, before I caught myself and slowed my gait to a more normal stroll.

However, I did falter a bit when I saw Roman in there. With Solange.

The nausea came back full force, but I forced myself to walk in nonchalantly as if nothing was wrong.

Solange waved when she saw me. “Good morning, Maya,” she greeted me in her thick Brazilian accent. She was wearing nothing except for an oversized men’s button-down.

He sure has a thing for lending out his shirts, I thought grumpily, remembering the night I’d stayed in his room after watching The Grudge.

I quickly shook the memory away and smiled back, trying to not dwell on the reason why she was here. In the morning. In Roman’s shirt.

The devil himself didn’t bother greeting me. He just leaned against the counter, gazing at me with hooded eyes and a small, self-satisfied smirk on his face.


That stupid smirk. To my relief, my blood began to boil. Anger was a lot easier to deal with than that other pesky emotion that started with a J.

“Looks up you’re up,” Roman drawled, not taking his eyes off me. “Why’d you leave so early yesterday? Something upset you?”

Resisting the urge to knee him in the groin, I calmly slid onto the stool next to Solange and grabbed a freshly baked muffin from the basket in the middle of the table. “Just my stomach,” I answered smoothly. “It was a bad idea to eat Mexican food before homecoming. My mistake.”

“Really?” Roman didn’t look like he believed me. “It looked like you were crying to me.”

“And when was this?” I asked, blinking innocently. I knew he couldn’t say outside the bathroom, without admitting he’d been watching me while making out with Solange.

His eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. “On your way out.”

I shrugged, biting into the muffin and letting the warm deliciousness calm me. “Like I said, I really wasn’t feeling well. I tend to shed a tear or two when my stomach acts up the way it did last night.”

“I drink lemon juice,” Solange offered randomly, swishing her thick chestnut hair back and forth.

“Maybe I’ll try that next time.” I flipped my own hair over my shoulder and stared at Roman challengingly. “Luckily, Carlo was such a gentleman. He bought me some medicine at a nearby drugstore and I felt so much better afterwards. He didn’t even mind me ruining homecoming for him.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “He really was the perfect date. I’m going to have to find some… method of making it up to him.”

I took in Roman’s reaction out of the corner of my eye, and was gratified to see the smirk slip off his face, to be replaced by his trademark scowl.

“How generous,” he sneered. “I didn’t realize a trip to the drugstore was all it took. A bit easy even for you, isn’t it?”

Pain flashed through me at the barely-veiled implication behind his words. Was he seriously bringing out the slut card again, even though I’d specifically told him I was a virgin? I don’t know why, but it always got to me, even though we both knew it wasn’t true.

“Roman, I thought we were going shopping today.” Solange’s full red lips formed a perfect pout. “I really want to get that limited-edition Gucci purse.” She seemed oblivious to the tension in the air.

“We are going,” Roman said, not looking at her. “Wait outside for me, will you?”

“Ok,” the leggy Brazilian agreed amiably. Then she stopped. “I can’t go out dressed like this.” She looked down at her bare legs.

Roman finally gave her an annoyed glance. “I’m sure Maya wouldn’t mind lending you some of her clothes, right?” He raised his eyebrows in my direction.

“Not at all,” I answered icily. “I’m happy to help a friend out. Come on, Solange, I’ll show you to my room.”

I led her up the stairs to the Greek suite, glad to be away from Roman’s presence. God, keeping up that charade was harder than I thought.

“This is nice,” Solange enthused, looking around at the ornate gold-and-white décor. “Almost as nice as Roman’s.”

I flinched a bit at the evidence she’d been in his room. “My clothes are in the closet, just pick whatever you want,” I mumbled.

The supermodel finally settled on one of my day dresses, a flowy aqua number that looked more like a top thanks to her mile-long legs.

“Do you think Roman will like it?” she asked, twirling around in front of the mirror.