A Virgin for His Prize. Lucy Monroe
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to go, if that’s all right.”
Her father turned a confused gaze on her. “You were having fun dancing.”
“But I wore her out,” Max smoothly inserted, with one of those conspiratorial smiles men seemed so adept at giving each other.
Particularly the men she knew.
Her dad gave Jeremy an angry look and then nodded at Romi. “Okay, kitten. I’ll call for the car.”
“No need. I’m happy to drop you both off.”
“In your Maserati?” While he no longer drove the two-door, purely sporty model, and this one had a backseat, Max had been drinking champagne before they started dancing.
“I’ve got a car and driver and I’ve already texted him. He’ll be waiting for us when we get outside.”
“You’re very efficient.” And Romi wasn’t sure she meant that as a compliment.
The wry twist to Max’s lips said he guessed that. “Oh, I am.”
“A little too coldly efficient, if you ask me,” Jeremy Archer had the audacity to say.
“Says the man with antifreeze instead of blood pumping through his veins,” her dad said with surprising clarity, both of thought and speech.
Jeremy’s face contorted with annoyance. “You need to go home and let your daughter pour you into bed, Gray.”
“What I need—” her father started to say.
“We’ll chalk this conversation up to the tactlessness that can come from longstanding friendship,” Max said in a tone that warned his patience was not limitless. “Agreed?”
In a move that shocked Romi, both her dad and Jeremy nodded. Grudgingly, but they agreed all the same.
“Good.” Max gave Jeremy a look that Romi couldn’t quite interpret. “From now on, you don’t need to worry about the viability of Grayson Enterprises. It is not up for grabs, nor will it be facing bankruptcy anytime in the near or distant future.”
Wow. That was quiet a promise. And an odd one for Max to make.
Her dad hadn’t said anything about BIT and Grayson going into business together, but his expression didn’t look nearly as confused as Romi felt.
In fact, the expression he’d turned toward his oldest friend and sometimes rival was nothing short of triumphant. “That’s right, and Romi’s not my investment capital in this deal, either.”
What deal? What had her father and Max been talking about?
Jeremy looked first startled and then concerned. “You’re merging?”
But her dad didn’t answer, finally showing some sense of discretion. He even congratulated Jeremy on his daughter’s marriage. “They’re a good, solid couple, no matter how they got together.”
Romi believed that, too. It was the only reason she’d accepted Maddie’s request to be her maid of honor. Her SBC deserved the best and a chance at true happiness.
Romi believed Viktor Beck was that for Maddie.
Maddie didn’t try to convince her to stay longer when Romi told her they were leaving. She didn’t even voice concern at the fact Romi and her father were doing so in the company of Maxwell Black.
Maddie just hugged her hard and thanked Romi for being the best sister a woman could ever choose or be born with.
When they arrived at her home, Max walked to the door with Romi and her father.
He stopped outside. “I’m not going to come in tonight, but I’ll be by tomorrow morning to talk.”
Romi wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or her dad, but Harry nodded so she figured it was him.
“I’ll look forward to it,” her dad said before stepping inside.
Max nodded, his masculine lips set in a firm line. Then he turned to Romi. “I would like to take you to lunch afterward.”
“Oh, I—”
“The time for running is done, Ramona. We have things we need to discuss.”
She didn’t bother telling him she didn’t like being addressed by her full name. That minor annoyance was nothing compared to the threat of talking. “We did all our discussing a year ago.”
“Circumstances change.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold the heat in. “I’m pretty sure ours haven’t.”
“And yet I am requesting your company all the same.” He reached out and tucked her wrap more tightly around her.
“Sounds more like a demand to me.”
He shrugged. “I have been accused.”
“Yeah. That’s believable.”
“Then believe me when I tell you that we have things, important things, we need to discuss.” He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek.
Romi shivered, but not from the cold this time. “What are they?”
“I’m sure you can guess.”
“Max…” But she didn’t know what she wanted to say, where she wanted this conversation to go.
She’d spent a year doing her best to forget Maxwell Black and it hadn’t worked.
The silence stretched between them before he leaned down and kissed her firmly, but quickly. “Tomorrow, Romi. Block out your afternoon.”
“For lunch?” she asked breathlessly and unable to do a thing about that fact.
“For me.”
“I’m not making any promises, Max.”
“I am, Romi. Both to myself and to you. You will be mine.”
The words should have made her nervous. Should have scared her right of her wits really, but Romi liked them too much. Her secret fantasies all revolved around this man.
She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss. “Tomorrow.”
Without another word, Max turned and went down the steps with a purposeful stride.
* * *
Romi moved restlessly in her bed. She’d left her father sleeping on the sofa in his study, the usual wool throw covering him.
She should be thinking about her best friend and the irrevocable step Maddie had taken in marrying Viktor Beck. Or if not that, Romi should be worrying about the problems with her dad’s company that Jeremy Archer clearly felt worth accosting her father over at his own daughter’s wedding reception.
But all of that bubbled in its own cauldron of stress at the periphery of the thoughts consuming her.
Maxwell Black said she was going to be his.
He knew she wanted a commitment. The hope of a future, not a guarantee, but at least the possibility. Okay probability. But she wasn’t looking for promises as much as the likelihood of them being made down the road.
None of which had he been willing to offer a year ago.
No, he’d presented the possibility of six months to a year of sexual pleasure and intermittent companionship, with the clear and nonnegotiable understanding that they would go their separate ways after a year.
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