Chapter 11 - THE KISS HE FINALLY ASKED FOR
Chicago in February had a particular talent for making a person regret leaving a warm building.
The wind hit my face as soon as Roman opened the gala doors.
I stepped onto the terrace.
My breath turned white.
Roman removed his coat.
I looked at him.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“It's freezing.”
“And you're not immune to weather.”
He glanced at his sweater.
“I'll survive.”
I smiled.
“Keep your coat.”
He nodded.
That was all.
No argument.
No dramatic insistence.
Just another small moment in which a man respected something I'd said.
We stood beneath the terrace heaters overlooking the river.
Inside, the gala continued.
People were probably discussing Nolan.
Damian.
Roman's unexpected announcement.
My confrontation.
For once, I didn't care.
Roman looked toward the city.
“I owe you an apology.”
I turned.
“For what?”
“For not telling you about Damian when we first met.”
I studied him.
“You already apologized.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it again?”
“Because tonight made me understand how much damage can happen when powerful men assume they're entitled to manage information for everyone else.”
I looked down.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then I said, “Nolan used to make me feel unreasonable whenever I asked questions.”
Roman turned toward me.
“I noticed.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course you did. The entire city probably noticed.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
His expression softened.
“I noticed the way he looked at you when you disagreed with him.”
My throat tightened.
Roman continued.
“He wanted the conversation to end before you'd finished speaking.”
I looked away.
That was exactly what it had felt like.
Two years of unfinished sentences.
Unanswered questions.
Small humiliations I kept explaining away because I wanted the relationship to work.
I took a breath.
“Roman, why have you kept coming back?”
He looked surprised.
“To the bakery?”
“To my life.”
For the first time, the usually composed Roman Blackwell seemed unsure how to answer.
Then he said, “Because I like you.”
My heart accelerated.
He smiled faintly.
“You're intelligent. Stubborn. Funny in ways you don't seem to notice.”
I looked down.
“And?”
“And when you care about something, you don't become less determined simply because somebody powerful tells you to stop.”
I swallowed.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It can be.”
I laughed.
Roman continued.
“I think about you when something happens that I know you'd find ridiculous.”
He looked toward the ballroom.
“Like tonight.”
I smiled.
“What about tonight?”
“The dessert.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“They served something called a deconstructed chocolate torte. It was three crumbs, a spoonful of cream, and a flower.”
I burst out laughing.
Roman's smile widened.
“I spent twelve minutes imagining what you'd say about charging forty dollars for a broken cake.”
I laughed so hard tears spilled down my cheeks.
Then the laughter faded.
And suddenly we were standing very close.
Roman looked at me.
His expression changed.
“Harper.”
“Yes?”
“I'd like to kiss you.”
My heart stopped.
He continued.
“But only if you want that.”
For a moment, I remembered Nolan.
The engagement ring.
The confession.
The feeling that love was something I had to earn.
Then I looked at Roman.
A man who had made mistakes.
Who hadn't always told me everything.
But who was learning to put truth ahead of control.
I stepped closer.
“Yes.”
Roman touched my cheek.
Gently.
Then kissed me.
No audience.
No champagne glasses.
No one watching to decide whether I was making the correct choice.
Just cold February air and the warmth of a man who had asked before crossing the distance between us.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine.
“Harper.”
I smiled.
“Yes?”
“That was considerably better than the gala dessert.”
I laughed.
Then kissed him again.
But when we returned inside, Rebecca was waiting near the entrance.
Her expression was grave.
“Harper.”
I stopped.
“What happened?”
She looked at Roman.
Then back at me.
“Investigators have obtained new evidence concerning Pierce Capital's property transactions.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“Damian's former finance manager has agreed to cooperate.”
Roman went still.
Rebecca continued.
“He claims Nolan and Damian used forged property documents to obtain financing for acquisitions that hadn't been completed.”
I stared toward the ballroom.
“And the bakery?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“The Bennett trust was one of the properties listed as secured collateral.”
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
May you like
Then she said something worse.
“Somebody may have borrowed millions against property your family never agreed to pledge.”
