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Maybe Penny wasn’t the only one Roman had his eye on. Penny wasn’t sure whether that made her feel better or worse, but she knew it made her feel something. And that something quickly became jealousy, an emotion that pinged around her chest like a ball in a pinball machine. Penny fought it back with every fiber of her moral compass, but it was a futile effort.
Trying to ignore her rattling nerves, Penny turned her attention to someone more interesting than either Roman or Marguerite. She watched Eliza Tate with mounting curiosity, wondering what she knew. Was it possible that Roman had confessed everything and she knew about their secret interludes?
When Penny entered the room, she’d seen a beautiful, forlorn-looking woman draped over a cocktail table, looking like a brokenhearted Disney princess waiting for a prince who would never come. Eliza’s long, shiny dark hair had been pulled over one shoulder, and her dress—sleek and short—was made from a crisp black fabric that made Penny feel like a starry-eyed teenager in her clearance-rack jumpsuit.
Penny might as well have worn sparkly eye shadow and chomped on bubble gum. It would have matched the duct tape slapped on the bottom of her shoe because she hadn’t wanted to shell out for a pair of new heels.
Turning to the bar, Penny slipped another olive between her lips. She was being stupid all over again, pining for a partner she couldn’t have when there was a real, tangible man bringing her flowers. Ryan Anderson might never be a yacht. But he made for a damn good dinghy.
“I’m glad you made it.” Roman’s voice clapped over Penny’s shoulder, prickling her skin in anticipation of a coming storm. “I worried you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“I’m still waiting to hear one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out the door right now.” Penny stared into her martini as she tasted the sour words. “You’re married.”
“You knew that from the day you met me.”
Penny’s face heated.
Roman leaned inward. “Yet you still wanted me.”
“I’m leaving—”
“Penny,” he chided gently with a matching shake of his head. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant to say was that there’s a greater force pulling us together. I can feel it, and I think you can, too.”
Penny’s throat went dry. “What’s gone on between us should never have happened. It’s not fair to anyone.”
“You’re wrong.”
Roman looked so convinced, it gave Penny pause as she stared into her drink. Somehow, most of her cocktail had already disappeared. She hadn’t eaten much all day, considering she’d picked her way around suspect beans for lunch.
“You’re an asshole.” The alcohol must have hit her harder than expected, which explained her newfound backbone. “I can’t believe I fell for your whole…” Penny waved her hand over Roman, head to toe. “All of it. I have half a mind to tell your wife everything.”
“Go ahead,” Roman said. “But first, take a breath and have another drink. I promised you there’s an explanation, and I’m getting to it. Once you hear me out, you can do whatever you like, and I won’t try to stop you.”
Penny gave a shrug of disbelief. She’d committed this far.
Roman eased closer, gestured for the bartender. “Another martini for her, a whiskey neat for me.”
“I’m okay.” Penny drained her drink and waved off the bartender. She ignored Roman’s gaze as it fell on her profile. “I haven’t eaten dinner. The alcohol’s gone straight to my head.”
“We’ll take that martini,” Roman assured the bartender. Turning to Penny, he gave her a generous smile. “Best to loosen up. Events like this are always a bit…stuffy. If you need food, there will be appetizers floating around.”
Penny made a noncommittal noise in her throat.
“Have you had the opportunity to meet anyone yet?” Roman gestured toward the party, dodging any real conversation in lieu of light banter. “Lots of industry folks in attendance. It’d be good for you to mingle.”
“As a matter of fact, I did meet your wife.” The vodka in Penny’s system simmered under the surface, mixing with an infusion of latent anger. “She seems very nice.”
“She can be.” Roman didn’t take the combative bait. “Though she won’t be my wife for much longer.”
Penny choked on an olive. “What?”
“We’re separating. All we’re waiting on is the divorce paperwork.”
“I-I’m…sorry to hear the news?” Penny didn’t mean for it to come out sounding like a question. “When did this happen?”
“Months ago,” Roman said, “but it should have been years.”
“For crying out loud. Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Penny fanned at her face, feeling an even bigger burst of relief than she’d anticipated. “I’ve been losing hair thinking that I’d ruined your marriage.”
