Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

I pulled back, breaking the trance, and looked around. Six men in matching black suits were stationed around the bar. All with earpieces. How had I not noticed them? Maybe because every time Roman invaded my personal space, the world outside of his shadow didn’t seem to exist.

Several mumbles and questioning eyes zeroed in on us. Then a flash of light. Cell phones were out and pointing in our direction. Roman’s security detail flocked around us, like shadows coming out of nowhere.

Paige’s words from earlier began to sink in. The governor’s personal life was, and would be now more than ever, on display.

“Aren’t you worried someone will see us?” I asked. “See you…”

“See me what?”

“You know.” I looked around again. Though people kept their distance, many called out to the governor, cheered, or waved. “Getting cozy with a random girl in a bar?”

He arched a brow and grinned. “Getting cozy?”

“You know what I mean,” I huffed quickly. Awkwardness enveloped me quicker than I could process it. Thank God I had remembered to take my anxiety pill this afternoon.

“I do.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “And no, I’m not worried. Because you’re not a random girl. You’re my girlfriend now, remember? There is nothing wrong with me enjoying a night out with you.”

The word “girlfriend” made my heart skip. “At a sports bar in Arbor Hill?”

“Especially at a sports bar in Arbor Hill.” He wound his arm around me and palmed the small of my back, pulling me closer. “Now, make it look good, sweetheart. People are watching.”

His lips landed on mine in a consuming kiss. Quick and hard, it was like a brand, telling me what I was and showing everyone else.

More flashes of light went off, and comprehension flooded my brain. This was what Roman was going for: being a “man of the people,” hanging out on a Thursday night with his small-town girlfriend, watching the Giants game.

He drew away and smiled. The shouts continued. Questions of who I was and requests for autographs rolled through the crowd. There were even some catcalls and whistles.

I sat up straight, determined to put some distance between us and remind myself that this was, in fact, an arrangement. Titles like “girlfriend” didn’t really matter, because they were based on a verbal contract.

He stood and helped me to my feet. Facing the crowd, he pulled me close and waved, then nodded to a member of his security. They began patting down a few people—the first of what would likely be many—and letting them come closer. People were still holding out their cell phones, asking for a picture with the governor.

“What’s the next step, then?” I asked quietly.

As the patrons approached, he kept his hold on me and said in a low voice, “Dinner tomorrow night at my place. We have some rules to cover.”

Chapter Five

The next night, Roman sent a car for me, which wouldn’t have been that bad except that it meant questioning stares from both

Hazel and Paige before leaving. The ride to his house wasn’t long, but my thoughts, most of which weren’t good, had more than enough time to take over my entire brain.

“Good evening, Miss Underwood,” said a man in a—big shocker—black suit, opening my car door. “Governor Reese is waiting.”

He escorted me up the steps and into the governor’s mansion. It was massive, but held a homey quality. The red brick facade accented by white pillars and trim reminded me of something you might see in the country. Small fir trees lined the walk leading to the front door, and the fresh scent of pine wafted in the cool air. The large maple tree in the middle of the lawn was starting to lose its leaves, raining bits of yellow and orange on the trimmed green grass, like paint splatter. September was one of my favorite months in New York, because it was when autumn really started to show its true colors.

The guard ushered me through the front door, then stopped me in the foyer.

“Forgive me, but I need to check your purse.”

“Of course.” I handed it to him. He went through it quickly and thoroughly and handed it back.

“Amy,” Roman said as he entered the room and walked toward me. He wore a white, form-fitting button-down shirt, rolled at the sleeves and tucked into dark pants. The black belt that lined his hips completed the look, making the governor positively drool worthy.

His eyes were fixed on mine, and the powerful, graceful way his body moved was enchanting. When he was toe-to-toe with me, he cupped my face in his palms and kissed me softly on the lips. I jumped, startled that he’d be so bold in front of one of his security men.

“You look beautiful,” he said against my lips, ignoring my surprise.

“Thank you.” My voice was a poor excuse for a choked whisper.