Promiscuous (Tease 2)

“Because I see a scared, lost girl in need of someone. I’m not asking you to be with me, or sleep with me. All I’m asking is you let me be your friend. Let me help you.”

I slouched back in my chair, feeling defeated. I still didn’t know what his game was. And right now, I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Besides, he was right—I was alone, and I so desperately needed someone on my side.

“I don’t need your help, Roman. You want to be my friend? Fine, but don’t think you’re going to be my shoulder to cry on.”

“The thought never entered my mind,” he promised dryly. “So, as newly-acquainted friends, can I take you out for lunch?”

I glanced down at my robe and slippers. “I’m not dressed.”

“I’ll let you change.” He chuckled.

I gave him a dirty look, but stood up. “Fine,” I muttered, marching down to my room, “but you’re paying.”

***

So the guy had taste.

We sat down at a table, tucked in the corner overlooking the water in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan. I eyed him suspiciously. Even I would struggle to get a table here, especially at such short notice.

“What?” he asked, pouring me a glass of water.

“Nothing,” I mumbled. “What is it you do, exactly? This is a pretty exclusive restaurant. I’m just wondering how you managed to get us a table.”

“Let’s just say I know how to get my way into a few places others don’t.” He narrowed his eyes, and smirked at me when I blushed at his comment. If he was referring to me right then, he obviously didn’t read the gossip. Apparently I offered easier access than—

“Would you like a wine?” he asked.

I nodded.

He ordered a bottle of Pinot noir. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I admitted. “I’m actually a pretty boring person.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he murmured.

A shiver ran down my spine as I watched his eyes sweep over me. Was that . . . excitement I felt? I glowered at him, embarrassed by the way my body was reacting to his attention.

“We all have our secrets, don’t we? Little things that make us who we are. Things that set us apart from everyone else, both in good and bad ways.”

I wonder what secrets he’s hiding?

“I guess you’re right.” He was, but I was also hesitant about sharing anything about myself with someone I’d known for two minutes, no matter how devilishly sexy he looked slouched in his chair across from me.

“So, then tell me something. Tell me something about Beth that nobody else would know.”

“I hate drugs.”

He looked as surprised as I felt. Where had that come from? He waited for me to continue.

“Most of my adolescence was spent living with my sister. She was hooked on some pretty heavy stuff. Coke, heroin . . . she overdosed when I was fifteen.” I reached for the water, gulping down a mouthful. I’d shared much more than I’d been wanting to. Even Coop didn’t know this shit about me.

“Wow. That must have been really rough,” he said softly.

I shrugged. It had been, but it happened, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

“Your parents?”

“Mom died when I was twelve. Cancer. Dad—hell, I’ve never even met him. Apparently, he was some deadbeat who ran out when I was young.”