Even to my own eyes, the face staring back at me from the bathroom mirror looks tired. Strained. I try to smile, but it looks fake. Giving up, I brush more blush onto my cheeks and reach for my lipstick. The color is a deep wine, dramatic with my pale skin and dark brown eyes, but I know Roman likes it.
Smoothing the dark green fabric of my dress over my hips, I turn slowly in front of the mirror. It clings to every curve.The neckline dips low enough to be enticing without being too revealing. The last time I wore this dress was for our first wedding anniversary, a night that ended with us barely making it through the front door before his hands were everywhere. I’m hoping tonight the dress will work its magic again.
Things have only gotten worse between Roman and me since that night in my studio. He’s coming home later, talking less, and there are more hushed phone calls that end abruptly when I enter the room. Whatever it is that’s going on, he won’t talk to me about it.
I can hear Roman thumping about and grumbling in the bedroom. Drawers open and shut. Roman curses softly, and then more drawers open and shut. When I enter the bedroom again, he’s standing by the bed, dress pants on but shirt unbuttoned, glaring at the suit jacket and tie I laid out for him earlier.
“I don’t see why I need to wear a damn suit,” he says as I enter the room. “Can’t we just go to Rusty’s? They know us there, and they don’t care what I’m wearing.”
“Because I want to eat somewhere nice tonight,” I tell him, coming to stand in front of him. I reach up to button his shirt, my fingers brushing against the warm skin of his chest. “I don’t want to eat at Rusty’s.”
Roman catches my hands, stilling them. “Hell Sunshine, if you want to eat something nice, we could do that here. I could fire up the grill. Open a bottle of wine. Got some good steaks in the freezer and ….” he trails off as he realizes the flaw in his brilliant plan.
“Seriously, Roman?” My voice sharpens with anger. “No. I don’t want to eat a veggie burger here or a dry salad made with iceberg lettuce and a few sad shreds of carrot at Rusty’s.” My hands curl into fists beneath his. “I made the reservations weeksago; you agreed to wear the suit, you aren’t wiggling out of it now.”
“Alright, alright,” he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’ll wear the suit.” He sighs dramatically, but allows me to finish with the buttons.
“Your sacrifice is deeply appreciated,” I mutter, reaching for the tie.
“It better be,” Roman chuckles before he finally notices what I’m wearing. His eyes widen slightly, traveling down my body in a slow, appreciative sweep that makes my skin warm despite my lingering annoyance with him.
“Is that new?” he asks, his voice dropping to that low growl that never fails to make my stomach flutter.
“Mm-hmm. Thought you might like it.” I loop the tie around his neck.
“Did you?” His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. “I think you were right.” His fingers trail along the neckline, barely skimming the skin above my breasts. “I think you chose this to distract me from the fact that I’m wearing a damn suit,” he accuses, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth now.
“Is it working?” I ask, finishing the knot in his tie and tilting my head up to look at him.
His eyes darken as they fix on my lips. “You know it is,” he murmurs, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against the solid wall of his chest. “But you’re going to pay for it later.”
“We’ll see,” I whisper against his mouth.
His kiss is hungry, possessive, one hand sliding to the small of my back to hold me against him while the other tangles in my carefully styled hair. I melt into him, my arms winding around his neck. For a moment, everything else falls away — all the tension, the distance, the doubts. There’s just Roman and me, and the familiar heat between us that has never dimmed.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I know he’s smeared my lipstick. I don’t care.
“I’m going to go fix my lipstick,” I say, reluctantly easing out of his embrace. “Meet you downstairs?”
Roman chuckles, biting gently at my earlobe before releasing me. “Don’t take too long, Sunshine. Sooner this evening is over, sooner I can get you into bed.”
I duck into the bathroom before I’m tempted to do something foolish like drag Roman to bed right this minute. After fixing my lipstick and trying to repair some of the damage to my hair, I grab a jacket, slip on my shoes, and head downstairs.
“We should go. Our reservation is for—”
But Roman isn’t listening. He’s standing rigidly, staring at his phone, his expression now hard and cold.
“Roman?” I ask, dread building in my chest. “What is it?”
He startles and looks up at me, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “I need to go,” he says, his voice now all Viper, none of the warmth from moments ago. “Something’s come up.”
“What?” The word comes out slightly louder than I intended. “Roman, no. You promised—”
“I know what I promised,” he cuts me off, already shrugging out of the suit jacket. “And I’ll keep it. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I just need to handle this first.”
I watch, stunned, as he yanks off the tie, tossing it onto the couch. “You’re seriously leaving right now? Can’t someone else handle whatever it is?”
Roman’s jaw tightens as he heads for the stairs. “No, they can’t. I won’t be too late. Thirty minutes, tops.”