A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [54]
He must have read the fear in her eyes. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Rachel. Ever. I swear.”
“I have no reason to believe anything you say, Roman.”
He released a pent-up breath. “I know.”
“Then why come? Why bother?”
“I had to see for myself that you weren’t hurt.”
She spun around in a circle, her arms spread wide. She even managed to cover up the tiny half stumble her dizziness caused when she came to a halt. “I’m perfect. Now, get out.”
“I wasn’t just worried about you physically, Rachel.”
She raised her eyebrows high, wanting to make sure he understood his audacity.
“You’re worried about my feelings? If maybe my heart was broken after seeing you snogging with some sexy chick with no color palette in her fashion decisions? I don’t give a rat’s ass who you screw around with, Roman.”
“You cared yesterday.”
“That’s because I was the one you were screwing. So not the case anymore.”
Emboldened by the fact that she’d sparred with him for a good ten minutes without either dissolving into tears or falling victim to his practiced charm, Rachel took a step closer. Yeah, it hurt like hell to have him here, right in front of her, forcing her to confront the stupidity of her choices over the past four months, but she could take it.
“Tell me something, Roman.”
“Anything.”
She laughed, even as her heart wept, knowing he couldn’t answer the question she was about to pose, even though she was still compelled to ask. “Is anything I know about you true?”
“What do you know?”
She cursed. He never could answer a straight question. She’d start simple.
“Your name?”
His mouth tightened.
“Are you a television consultant?”
Again, nothing.
“Is that woman your lover?”
“No.”
“Never? She’s never been your lover?”
He glanced aside.
“An ex. Nice.”
“I didn’t expect to ever see her again. She only kissed me because she knew you were watching.”
Rachel staggered a step backward, her knees folding until she sat on the bed. “You knew I followed you?”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t know. She knew.”
“How?”
“Apparently, she’s been following me for the past week.”
“Hopeful of a romantic reunion?”
“She and I slept together, Rachel. Nothing more.”
She leaned back on her hands. “That’s your modus operandi, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“She’s involved in my business.”
“Which isn’t television consultation.”
“No.”
She sat up straighter. “Holy shit. I think you just answered a question.”
“That’s all I can say, Rachel. I’m not really a television consultant. Everything I’ve told you about myself from the first moment we met has been a lie, first as a way to get to know you, then as a way to protect you.”
“From what?”
He stared at her and she could see the conflict in his eyes. Truth? Lie? So many choices for a clearly complicated man.
“From people like the shooter in the car. People who don’t care about collateral damage. That’s only one reason why I should have stopped seeing you months ago.”
“Why didn’t you?” she challenged.
He stepped forward and his voice, for the briefest moment, sounded strangled from the tightness in his throat. “How could I?”
She glanced aside. “It was just sex.”
“Now who’s the liar?”
For a moment, she sat there, chastised, knowing that if she could stop pretending for just a second, she’d realize she’d come to care about the man. But how could that caring mean anything when the man she’d thought she was getting to know was nothing more than an illusion? A cover?
“Look, Roman, or whatever your name is, the sex was great and the affair was fun, all full of spontaneity and mystery and all the things that are biting us in the ass right now. Fact is, you’re probably on your way out of town—you and that gun of yours—so why are we wasting our breaths talking about nothing?”
Silence reigned. God, she wanted him to reply with “It’s not nothing. We connected, Rachel. We were something to each other. You matter to me.” But his mouth remained closed. She supposed she should have celebrated when he turned and started to exit the room, but instead, a sob caught in her throat.
Luckily, Mario