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For some reason, Angela believed him. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” she told him honestly. For many reasons, she added silently. Not the least of which was personal.
He stared at her for a few seconds before holding the elevator door open for her. She braced herself to be in the confined space with him yet again. They had hopped in and out of the elevator twice already.
“The shooting range is on the lower level,” he said. “I bypassed that, but you’re welcome to check it out sometime. We’re open to the public.”
“A shooting range, a medical facility, apartments, and gyms. You really do have everything here, don’t you?” Angela paused before murmuring, “This is your castle and you’re the king.”
“This is my home, first and foremost,” he corrected her. “Leaving my family and starting afresh was difficult. Yes, I wanted to prove to both sides of my family that not only would I survive without them, but I would also thrive. But the thing I wanted most was a home. With my real family.”
“Luca?” Angela guessed.
“Luca,” Roman confirmed. “And Abel and Salvatore. As well as Morrigan and a few others.”
“Must be nice,” she muttered as they made their way out onto the fiftieth floor. “To have family.”
“You’re not close to yours?” He punctuated his question by motioning politely for her to make her way into an entrance hall of sorts.
“No.” The one word was clipped. She hoped he got the message that it was not a subject she was willing to discuss. Ever.
“From here up are the personal floors. A few common areas, private gym, swimming pool, bars...” Roman listed, making no further inquiries about her family. “The apartments for myself,+ and my family and guests are from fifty-five upwards. This level has the medical suite, as you probably remember.”
Angela looked around, recognizing the sofas and the artwork on the wall from the night she was abducted. She peeked inside the doors, finding the clinic. It was empty. “I’m going to want to do a full inventory.”
“Be my guest,” Roman bade her. “If there’s anything you need, let me know. I’ll see that you get it.”
She made a sound but didn’t reply. She was impressed with his set-up but didn’t want to say so.
“You have access to every floor except the top floor,” Roman went on to say.
Angela looked at him. “Is that your personal floor?”
“No. My living quarters are on the fifty-ninth floor. You’re welcome there any time,” he invited, heat filling his eyes.
“Hard pass,” Angela said swiftly.
“It’s hard all right,” Roman muttered, adjusting his cock brazenly.
Angela’s mouth fell open. The man was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. “Really? How old are you?” she snarked.
“Thirty-four,” came the prompt reply.
“That was a rhetorical question,” Angela pointed out dryly. Then she thought about it for a moment. “But also... I’m five years older than you.”
Roman’s slow smile was sexy as sin. “Hmm, there’s something to be said for an older woman.”
“Yes. We’re too mature for the likes of younger men like you,” Angela responded primly.
Roman chuckled, the sound sending shivers through her system. “No. That’s not it.”
“Whatever,” Angela said, refusing to flirt with the man. She asked instead, “So, what’s on the top floor? I figured you for the penthouse type.”
“You figured right in a way,” he admitted. “The top floor is the dungeon.”
Her mind was immediately flooded with visions of Roman dressed in leather and smacking his palm with a riding crop. “You have a sex dungeon?”
Roman choked, turning red. “A sex dungeon? No. I was referring to a literal dungeon. As in, a prison, or a torture chamber.”
Angela’s cheeks heated. “Oh,” was all she said.
