Roman’s headed to the nightclub. I watch him until the elevator doors close and enjoy the dark knowing smile he wears as he watches me. I’m wearing nothing but his white buttoned-up shirt, which is too big for me. My hair is rumpled because he just fucked me to an inch within my life. My body is deliciously sore and I wish he wasn’t leaving. When the doors close, I take a deep breath and fall back on the Italian leather sofa. The damn thing is so soft, it should be illegal. I close my eyes and try to get a grip on my emotions, just like I do every time Roman leaves me.
I’ve been living with Roman in this apartment for two weeks now. Two weeks of his constant attention and being his woman have altered me in ways I never expected. Honestly, we’ve settled into a routine, and if only it wasn’t built on lies and deceit, I would be completely happy.
I’ve been ignoring Paul’s summons. He’s getting more insistent. Roman almost caught one of his 911 texts last night from the small prepaid cell I keep. I hid the phone in a bunch of towels and distracted him with sex. I seem to distract Roman a lot with sex.
I’ve been putting it off, but I’ll have to touch base with Paul and I’m dreading it. He’ll want to know if I’ve planted the coke and set up a sting. I haven’t and I don’t think I can. I’m just dreading the conversation with Paul.
I grab the cell from my purse and text Paul:
Cloverfield Medical Complex. 2 p.m.
Even setting up the meeting twists my gut. I’m apparently going to Roman’s physician to get checked out today. He informed me it’s something we should have done weeks ago, but I make him forget his rules. He’s already shown me the clean bill of health the doctor gave him and I guess this is my turn. I want to be offended, but let’s face it, in today’s world that’s smart. Probably way too late, considering we’re fucking like bunnies every chance we get, but whatever. Besides, I can’t hardly be offended since I’m lying to him every time I turn around.
That’s starting to bother me too. They warned me you can go too deep undercover, so deep that you start to lose sight of who you are and become the person you’re portraying. The thing is, in this case, I’m being me. The real Ana. The Ana that I’ve kept hidden since I was the scared sixteen-year-old that Paul Banks saved. When I’m with Roman, it’s not about being someone I don’t know; it’s all about letting my guard down and showing him who I am. Which is crazy. Completely crazy.
Roman swears he’s doing his best to help me with my brother. He hasn’t shown me proof, but I still find myself believing him, which makes me wonder if I didn’t have Roman Anthes pegged wrong to begin with. He’s becoming more relaxed around me, so much so that in this past week, he’s even beginning to talk business in front of me. Not a lot, but little things, enough for me to understand he’s brokering a deal with the Russian mob. That should terrify me—and maybe it does—but not enough to turn me away from him.
My phone vibrates. I look at the text with a feeling of dread:
About fucking time. I’ll be there.
The more I see the words, the more I want to vomit. I clear off all history of the texts and bury my phone back in my purse. I can’t put this off any longer. I jump in the shower. It’s a busy day and I don’t have time to waste. I’ve got the doctor’s appointment, the fight with Paul (and it will be a fight), and then tonight I’m accompanying Roman to a dinner party. He bought me the sexiest, barely-there little black dress I have ever seen. I’m all set, but I’m a nervous wreck about it, too. I may need medication to survive today. That’s my last thought as I go jump in the shower.
Time to stop putting things off.