Page 132 of Lease to Love

"Thank you."

He slipped his phone into his pocket and crossed the room. One hand came up to cup my chin as he kissed me, soft and lingering.

When he pulled back, he looked down at me for another second.

"Come on. Reservation's in half an hour."

He took my hand.

And just like that, we were walking out the door.

The drive lasted almost thirty minutes exactly.

I tried not to read too much into the fact that he kept one hand on my thigh the entire way.

I failed.

When we pulled up downtown, I looked through the windshield at the hotel in front of us and immediately decided there was no way I was dressed well enough for a place whose name I could barely pronounce.

Roman handed the keys to the valet without hesitation.

A man in a crisp uniform greeted us inside and led us through the hotel, past marble floors and soaring ceilings, until he opened the doors to one of the ballrooms.

I stopped walking.

Candles.

Hundreds of them.

Soft music floated through the room, barely louder than a whisper. Orange rose petals formed a winding path across the floor toward a single table set beneath a glowing chandelier, its linen crisp and white, the centerpiece flickering with candlelight.

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

"Roman..."

He stepped closer.

"What is this?"

He tugged me gently toward him.

"Last week," he said, his voice quieter now, "at my place... you asked me what we were doing."

My throat tightened.

He took my hand.

Then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles the same way he had the day all of this began.

"I'm hoping we're gonna be doing a lot more of this."

Relief cracked through me so suddenly it almost hurt.

He wasn't ending it.

He wasn't walking away.

He was standing here telling me the exact opposite.