I hate him. I hate Roman Rhode. His brother is right. He is an egoistical, stupid, hateful son of a bitch. If he were here in my bedroom right now, I'd throw my dress at his face, knock him down, climb on top of him, and—
I groan and toss my dress into my closet... And my high heels, too, while I'm at it.
He is no one! A cocky bastard I met a couple of days ago. His words don't have power over me.
I wipe my makeup and hop into the shower. The ice-cold water should bring me back to my senses and calm the hellish beast roaming around my chest...
I slap my soapy cheeks. There is no beast. It's all in my head. Magical connections don't exist. Roman is just a guy, an asshole, who is probably in the shower, holding his cock in his hand—
Nope. I won't let him take over my thoughts. I turn the water off, wrap a towel around my body, and throw myself on the bed.
My phone lights up on the pillow, with a text.
'Thinking of me yet?'
"Fuck you, Roman."
Breathing exercises should help. But they don't. I don't want to prove Roman right and start touching myself to take the edge off... And I'm not ready to dwell on everything that happened earlier either. Should I watch something instead?
I open my streaming app and put on a period drama. Ruffled dresses, handsome dukes, and all that glam should lift my spirits.
The episode starts with a quarrel in the castle. Good, I like it when we dive straight into action. One minute into the show, and I groan. The Viscount is basically Roman with a rounder face! Besides, Roman is hotter. His ears are smaller, and his caramel eyes are one of a kind.
Fuck. This is useless. I toss my phone on the sheets.
Reading a book means getting out of bed, so do midnight snacks... I sigh and close my eyes, but Roman's face is all I can see, and his kisses are all I can feel in the dark.
My phone lights up again.
'I'm thinking of you, too.'
My heart skips a beat as I sink deeper into my pillow and close my eyes. Is he lying on his bed? Can he hear my thoughts? Is he alone? Ouch... Don't go there.
My phone chimes, but I keep my eyes closed.
Roman...
If only he took the cab with me after our date... We could be one. Slipping in and out of each other. Falling together, and harder, with every thrust. We could be united; heart, body, and soul.
My thighs, my core, my heart... Everything I'm made of burns.
I kick the sheets and gasp for air. This doesn't make any sense! I've spent the last six years swiping left on assholes like Roman Rhode. Why can't I stop thinking about him?
I run my fingers through my wet bangs. "Fuck it. He'll never know..."
My hand travels south and disappears between the soft folds of the towel around my body. Roman's caramel eyes flash somewhere in the back of my mind. His thin lips, and the way they shine when he licks them... My breathing quickens. I can feel his oaky cologne all over me.
The memory of his heat between my legs drives me to the edge. And the memories of his voice, and our lips colliding in need tips me off. I come, screaming his name. "Roman!" Just like he told me to.
I open my eyes in my empty room, and stare at his texts.
'I should have taken that cab with you.'
'Did you scream my name?'
'See you next week.'
I close my eyes again and drift off to sleep.
***
My door buzzes for the third time in the morning. I groan and pull the sheets above my head.
"Abby! Open up!" Olga's muffled voice reaches me.
Growling a few curses, I get out of bed, put on a simple t-shirt and knickers, then drag my barely-covered ass to the living room to let Olga in.
"Coffee and rolls," she chirps, shoving a brown paper bag into my face.
The smell of warm eggs is mouthwatering, and it's exactly what I need to wake up. I grab the bag with a sleepy smile and perch on the corner of my L-shaped couch.
Olga brings two plates from the kitchen, sets them on the coffee table, and throws herself to sit next to me.
"You're the best," I mutter as I unwrap my sandwich and tuck my legs under my bum.
Olga giggles when I finish everything in a few bites. Then resting an elbow on the rim of the couch, she warily watches me sip my coffee. "Tell me all about last night," she says. Her voice is like the calm before storm.
So, I tell her everything. Her mouth gapes open as she listens, then shuts close. Her eyes glow, and flash with rage. She purses her lips when she hears about Tiffany, and touches my shoulder sympathetically when the story is over. "Look, Abby, I know you felt a connection... But I'm going to be honest with you," she sighs and then opens her arms with a shrug. "He's a walking red flag!"
Good. I needed to hear that.
"What are you going to do?" she asks.
"Nothing! I'm going to finish editing Kaz's videos, take my money, and never hear of Roman, ever again."
She nods and pats my leg. "There'll be others."
I circle my finger around my coffee cup and shrug. Fuck connections. Fuck the drought, and fuck being back in the game. I'm better off sitting at the sidelines, watching everyone else play. I sigh and force a smile. "Enough about me. How did it go with Daniel?"
Olga hugs a cushion with dreamy eyes and leans back on the couch. "He took my number. We are going out on a date next Friday."
"Google him before you guys meet," I warn her, and we chuckle.
When Olga leaves, I sit in front of my computer and crack my fingers. I'm going to work my magic, deliver the videos to Optimus Maximus, and put Roman Rhode behind me—for good.
I've already deleted his texts from last night, but I'm keeping his number... until I deliver the videos and get paid, of course. Though, this might not be the best idea because my heart flutters every time someone texts me now. And on Monday morning when Roman texts me again, my heart nearly stops.
'Drinks tonight?'
"No, asshole. I'm going to forget you..." I toss my phone away and attack my work.
Thirty videos are all finished on Wednesday, but I am a mess. I haven't slept properly, showered, or left the house since Friday night. I e-mail Kaz, share a download link for the videos along with my bank details, and throw myself on the bed.
She rings me within the hour and wakes me up from a well-deserved slumber.
"Hello?" I answer with a hoarse voice.
"Abby? Hi... Thanks for the videos."
I stare at my phone. Am I sleepy, or is she stupid? She could have just sent me a thank you e-mail. "Okay. Bye."
"Umm... Abby?"
I put the phone back to my ear. "Yes, Kaz?"
"We can't transfer the payment to your bank account. Corporate policies."
I sigh. "Of course you can. It's stated in my contract."
"But you signed our agreement. You'll have to come to the office and collect your paycheck from HR."
I groan and check the time on my phone's screen. It's nearly noon. "Fine," I say. I'm not leaving my three grand in Roman's stupid company. "When can I come?"
"This week at a convenient time?"
"How is today?" I don't want this to drag.
"Sure. I'll let them know you're coming."
"Okay, thank you," I say, but then I hold the phone to my ear again. "Oh, Kaz?"
"Yeah?"
"Your boss is an asshole. You don't have to take shit from him. You deserve better," I say. Actually, I pity everyone who works in that company. They all deserve better, including me, a lonely, flawed, pitiful bitch.
"I'm sorry... Umm... Thank you, Abby." Her voice is filled with emotion. "Look, I'm really sorry, okay? I really hope we can work again in the future."
I stare at my phone before I hang up. Why is she sorry? Did she spit in my coffee that day?
I swing my feet down the bed and get in the shower.
After putting on a black summer dress with polka dots, sandals, and a little makeup, I'm feeling fresh and ready to visit Optimus Maximus one last time.