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The music stops, and so do we, but he doesn’t let me go. He presses me against him, so our bodies are touching, and it’s impossible for me to not feel the brute strength this man possesses. Keeping his hand splayed out against my lower back, he brings the other up to drag his finger along my shoulder, slowly sliding it up my neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. I suck in a quick breath, knowing my skin must be flaming red by now. I can pretend all I want, but my body’s reaction is outing me big time right now, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it.
He slips a finger under the thin strap of my dress. “I like the yellow. You’re like a little sun in the middle of all this black.”
He murmurs the words close to my ear, and I know he feels the shiver that runs through me.
“So fucking innocent,” he whispers. “You should leave now before the sharks smell blood.”
“I’ve been forced to come to these things since I was a little girl. I think I can handle myself.”
“You should’ve never had to.”
I’m surprised by the anger in his voice, but before I can ask him about it, an announcement is made that dinner is about to be served, and then my mom is magically at my side, beaming up at Roman.
“You must sit with us during dinner.” She turns her head and gives me a huge smile that I don’t return. “We can’t have Emily hogging you all night.”
I’m not sure I can handle any more time with my mom, and I think about just bowing out and leaving early, but then I think about that slip of paper in my dad’s pocket, and I know I have no choice but to stay. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting my hands on it, not even my annoying, slightly intoxicated mother.
“You’ve got it backwards, Angela. I’m the one who’s been hogging your daughter.” Roman slips his arm around me again in that same possessive hold that would be creepy as hell if any other man ever dared to do it, but I find myself leaning into him, even though my mind screams at me that I probably shouldn’t. I’ll never see him again, and this is the first time anyone’s ever come to my defense against my mom. Can’t I just enjoy it for one damn night?
“I’m afraid I might have insulted Connor, though. I wouldn’t let him cut into our dance.” He says it like he’s sharing a secret with her, and my mom eats that shit right up. She lets out a soft laugh and slaps his arm playfully.
“I’m sure he’ll live.” Whispering, she adds, “I never really liked him anyway,” and when I give her a disbelieving laugh, she looks at me with perfect innocence. “You okay, honey?”
“Yeah, just remembering that funny quote we were talking about earlier.”
She ignores me completely and smiles at Roman. “You two go ahead and sit down. I’m going to find my husband and help the other guests find their places.”
Roman smiles and leads me out the French doors and to the tables that have been set up under the large, white tent. Fairy lights and candles keep the lighting intimate and cozy, and as everyone finds their assigned seats, I point to the main table that’s set up right in the middle. My dad likes to make it seem like he’s just like everyone else. No raised table for him. I try like hell to not roll my eyes at how fucking fake it all is.
My mom has already restructured the table so Roman is sitting across from me, right beside her I notice. He pulls a chair out for me, and lets his fingers graze my bare shoulders before he takes his own seat. His green eyes lock on mine, and I wish I knew what game he was playing. I remind myself that we’re just having fun for the night. I get to pretend that I have a hot, protective date, and once the meal is over, things will go back to normal. No harm, no foul.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Steve says, taking the spot next to me. I hadn’t noticed the congressman’s name on the plate next to me, but I can’t say I’m surprised. My mom knows how much I hate him, so of course that’s who she put me next to.
“Representative Johnson,” I say, trying to make my voice friendly, but it sounds fake even to my own ears.
He lifts a brow and points a finger at me like he’s playfully scolding me. “Steve, honey. None of this Representative Johnson nonsense. We’ve known each other too long for that. Don’t forget that I’ve watched you grow up, sweetheart.”
Steve somehow manages to make that last statement sound perverted in the sleaziest of ways. I look over to see Roman watching us, his eyes hard as they study Steve, and his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like it’s carved from granite. Without a word, he grabs my mom’s place card and switches it with mine, then he gives me a very pointed look. I don’t have to be told twice, I fight the smile that wants to break out and stand up, getting my ass as far away from Steve as I can get. I take the seat on Roman’s right that will put me to the left of my dad, and when he helps me scoot my chair in, I meet his eyes, trying not to read too much into what he just did.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to change seats,” Steve says, like we’re in grade school and about to get busted by the teacher.
“I’ve never been good at following rules, Steve,” Roman says smoothly, giving me another wink that sends my heart into overdrive. God, this guy is good. When I look around the crowded tent, I see that most of the women are looking in our direction, stealing quick glimpses of the mysterious stranger, wondering who the hell he is and how they can get to know him. The men might be asshole perverts, but the women around here aren’t all that much better. Some of them have flings on the side. Others are like my mom and they bury their heads in the sand and spend massive amounts of money in a useless attempt at finding happiness. I’ve yet to see one happily married couple. There certainly aren’t any in this tent.
My parents walk over with Representatives Strickland and Daniels, and bringing up the rear is, of course, Connor. As luck would have it, he ends up right next to Roman. My mom notices the change we’ve made, and her smile only falters a little bit when she takes her seat in between my dad and Steve. Roman doesn’t bring it up or offer an apology for changing things around. He just reaches up and runs his fingers along my back again like he has every right to touch me any damn time he wants. I should stop him, but I don’t. It feels too damn good.
When the waiters start dropping off salads and refilling drinks, my dad looks at Roman and asks, “So what is it you do?”
“My brothers and I moved here not too long ago. At the moment we’re investing in a few businesses.”
“Oh,” my mom jumps in. “Where did you move here from?”
“Moscow.”
“That must be quite the change,” my dad says.
Roman shrugs. “Not as different as you might think. People are typically the same, no matter the city.”
“What businesses are you investing in?” Connor asks, and I can tell by his tone that he’s still pissed about what happened on the dance floor.
