My hand is itching to dive into my bag to check my phone while I queue by the fancy doors of Gloria's Terrace on Friday night. But my phone doesn't ring, and it hasn't rung for the last two days.
Honestly, I don't know if Roman is coming. I would call him, but his business card doesn't have his personal number, and it didn't feel right to ring his office.
Well, it's eight; it's Friday, and I'm here, anyway.
The host smiles politely when I finally reach the head of the line.
"Roman Rhode... A table for two?" I ask.
My heart flutters while he checks the list. Mr. Rhode has a reservation, but I'm the first to arrive.
This is something.
I follow the host's lead and step out to the terrace.
The top floor of this skyscraper is buzzing with house music and colorful lights. Sassy customers sip their drinks and enjoy their tiny Michelin-starred dishes in a tropical jungle setting under the stars. The world-famous restaurant overlooking the Hudson River seems full tonight.
The host escorts me to a bar under fake palms. I part a couple of fake leaves that brush my face and take a seat on a high stool. The place keeps getting crowded by the second. It's the perfect spot for a first date... But will Roman turn up?
I check the doors every now and then, but it's impossible to see much in the dim lighting. When the bartender hands me a cocktail menu, I put on a brave smile and order a lychee martini.
"Awaiting any guests?" he asks, taking out a shaker.
"Yeah... I'm not sure. I hope he comes." I peek at my phone. Roman is already half an hour late. Don't get me wrong, I would have left if it were any other guy. Call me crazy... I think it's crazy too, but I feel as if I've known Roman all my life and I'm willing to wait a little longer.
The bartender shoots me a glance from the corner of his eye. "If he's late, then he is probably not worth your while. Take it from someone who sees lots of heartbreaks every night."
"Oh, believe me, he has enough reason not to show up tonight," I say, sliding him an extra ten.
He slips the tip into his pocket, then raises his tattooed arms and starts shaking my cocktail. "He asked you out, though, didn't he?"
I nod, watching him pour the pale liquid into a chilled glass.
"Then you are no exception. Stay exceptional," he says and makes me laugh. Okay, I'm tipping him another ten.
"I don't know about me, but this cocktail is definitely exceptional," I say, taking a sip.
He winks and takes the money. Then dipping his hand somewhere below the counter, he takes out a plate of exotic fruits and places it in front of me before he tends to his other customers.
I pop a lychee into my mouth, turn my chair around and...
...find myself looking into Roman's caramel eyes.
"Hi," he says with a subtle grin.
Oh my God. He's here. I swallow the fruit as a whole.
Roman's gaze falls to my extra-deep cleavage and trails my exposed skin all the way down to my belly button. His lips twitch. His pupils dilate. I'm enjoying the dangerous glow and the amber hues in his eyes more than he's enjoying my mini, black dress.
He places a hand on my back and leans in. His oaky perfume consumes me as his face gets closer, and closer... My inner goddess wakes up instantly, but she is no longer a blossoming goddess. She's a beast on high alert...caged deep inside my chest, ready to break loose and torch the world.
When Roman presses his freshly shaven cheek against mine, I grab the edge of the bar. It's a friendly kiss, but feeling his skin against mine knocks me from the inside out.
Roman stares into my eyes with his intense, constant frown, and sits on the bar stool beside me. He is wearing a plain white shirt and beige pants tonight.
"I... I wasn't sure if you were coming." I gulp. "You didn't call. I don't have your number..."
"Something came up," he states plainly, rolling up his sleeves.
Well, he is here now. And he's willing to give me a chance despite my near past with his brother.
"Did you eat?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"My assistant couldn't find us a table. We can't order mains here at the bar, but I'm sure we can ask for nibbles," he says, and grabs the drinks menu.
"The bar is great," I assure him.
After a quick peek at the cocktail list, Roman leans over the counter and orders a glass of scotch. The bartender cocks me brow as he reaches for a bottle. I nod, sliding him another ten.
"Have you been here before?" Roman asks, giving the bartender the side eye.
"First time." I chirp.
Roman places his elbows against the bar and faces away while the bartender serves his drink. He is jittery, shuffling in his seat, like he's sitting on pins and needles.
Meanwhile, the couples around us are flirting hard, placing their hands on each other's laps, caressing arms and tasting their partners' drinks. I know it sounds cheesy, but love is in the air tonight, and I hope it will break the ice between Roman and I. If only he looks at me...
When the bartender leaves, Roman checks his watch and scoots toward the edge of his seat. But then his gaze lingers on his full glass... My heart throbs as he rubs his forehead, then sits back and grabs his drink.
Frankly, I'd be ready to bolt too, if I was in his position. I don't have any siblings. I can only imagine how awkward it must have been for him to meet me tonight. "Roman," I start as he sips his drink. "Nate and I... It was a one-night thing."
He presses his lips into a tight line, keeping his gaze on the scotch. "Do you usually do one-night-stands?"
My heart pounds heavier at this question. His tone stings. "No."
Roman circles the rim of his glass with his fingertip. "For the past hour, I've been sitting in my car, trying to decide whether to come up here or go home."
My cheeks flare. He's still not looking at me, and I can't find the right words to say.
Roman continues, keeping his gaze in front of him. "I was there too, you know, at the gala... It's funny how Nathaniel met you first. Feels like it should have been me." His face sours. Then he gulps down half of his drink.
Oh God... Did he see me flirt with Nate? Is that why he is so guarded? Did he see us make out? No, please... Kill me! Now!
Roman licks his lips and finally turns to face me. "My brother went on about you for a week, then found a couple of models—he always does. In case you're wondering, he's taking them to a cheap bar at East Village tonight."
"I'm not interested in him," I say in a whisper. My entire face is on fire. "I'm sorry our first date started like this," I say, reaching for his hand. His fingers twitch at our contact. "I guess we can't change the past or control the universe."
"We can't," he agrees. "But we can manage our expectations." He pulls his hand away from mine. He's radiating heat waves again, grazing his teeth against his lower lip as if trying to hold back his words.
"What do you mean?"
"I won't touch you, Abigail. I'm here to show you what it's like to date a proper gentleman," he says, pushing his shoulders back. But then his gaze falls on my lips, and a wild glow passes through his caramel eyes. "God knows how much I want to—"
I gasp as Roman faces away. Then he clears his throat and raises his hand to stop a waiter.
A part of me is paralyzed, unsure of what to make of his dangerous tone. But another part wants to pull Roman's collars, climb on his lap, and make his wish come true.
I lift my cocktail glass with shaky hands. Before the drink touches my lips, the bartender leans across the bar.
"We have a table available. Would you like to take it?"
"Isn't there a waiting list or something?" I ask, eyeing Roman's stone-cold features.
"You don't have to wait," the bartender says, and gestures at the waiter behind Roman to lean closer. After exchanging quick words with his peer, the waiter smiles and helps me out of my chair.
Roman summons a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket. "Thanks for your service," he says coldly, sliding the money across the bar. Then fixing his sleeves, he places a hand on the small of my back and escorts me away. "Is he an ex, or another one-night-stand? Should I worry about him, too?" he asks into my ear.
"Worry about managing your own expectations, Roman," I snap. "I don't sleep around."
I'm crazy about him, but I'll leave if he insists on treating me like an asshole.
Roman raises his head as if someone has whispered into his ear. Then he nods and gently holds my waist, securing me to walk next to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I don't know what's gotten into me. Just... Stay. Please." The warmth of his voice fills my ear and gives me goosebumps. Before I can stop myself, I flick my head and kiss the corner of his lips.
The beast in my chest roars—it loves the bitter taste of scotch and the sweetness underneath.
Roman's breath hitches, and he misses a step. When our gazes meet, his caramel eyes burn into mine and suck me into a dark place.
I am not sure who I am or where we are anymore.
Roman pulls me closer by the waist and guides me to walk in front of him. I place my hand on top of his, and glide our fingers toward the exposed skin on my stomach. His touch sizzles. His silent moan heats the back of my neck. I don't need to turn around to see the traces of a tight smile as his legs scrape over mine.
We are synced now, taking one step after another in perfect harmony, moving across the tables as if we are sharing one body.