Only One Night - The Fusion Universe

“I needed to talk to you, to sit down and have no distractions.”

Once we’re seated, the waiter comes over to bring the wine I ordered for this evening. He fills the glasses with a flourish and leaves us with a smile, disappearing into the kitchen.

“So, there’s something I wanted to say,” I tell her as I lift my glass.

Chapter 29

Elisabet

He looks so nervous as he holds his glass up between us. I pick mine up and tip it against his. The sound echoes around us. It’s strange and surreal being in a restaurant with no other patrons.

“I made a mistake. Elisabet, I’m not perfect, I will never claim that, but I need you to know that I’ve fallen in love with you. I’m beyond addicted to you, your smile, your laugh, those beautiful curves, and your intelligent mind. You’re the complete package, and I can’t imagine not being around you.” His voice is low, deep and gravelly, which makes me squeeze my thighs together.

As much as I want to behave and not jump his bones right now, I know it’s going to be more difficult when he’s being so chivalrous.

“I want you to move in with me,” Rome finally utters, and my heart leaps wildly in my chest. The drumbeat in my ears is deafening.

“What?” I choke out the word as shock drips from my tone. “I mean, I . . . That’s a big step, Rome.”

He nods. There’s a nervous energy emanating from him as he swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “I know.”

I open my mouth to reply, to say yes, but then I don’t. It’s not that I don’t want to stay with him, to be with him every day, but we need time. I know he’ll understand, so instead of saying yes or no, I nod.

“Let me think about it,” I finally reply.

Rome tips his head. “I can work with that,” he tells me with a small smile, and I really look at him. He’s been through so much. He’s been broken and tormented by his past, but yet, he’s here opening himself up to me.

Fear makes us hide away and not do things that we would like to do. It holds us back, keeping us from living our best lives, but with Rome, I feel like this thing between us has changed him somewhat.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks as he sips his wine. His eyes holding mine hostage, as if he’s roped me in and not wanting to let go. And I realize I don’t want him to let go. I don’t want him to release me.

I shrug, trying not to portray my nervousness, but when I pick up my wine glass, my trembling hand gives it away. “I’m just wondering how we can move forward without needing to rehash what happened.”

“We need to, Elisabet. I want to because I need you to know that I love you,” he says, and when he meets my gaze, I see the honesty—raw and true—shining in those light eyes.

“I love you too,” I tell him. “I’ve known it for a while.” I didn’t want to be the one to say it first, because I was afraid he’d run in the opposite direction. Our agreement was one night only, and we’ve broken it.

“I didn’t think I would,” Rome says. “I thought I would be gone within a few days. You seemed too adamant not to have this be more than a fling.” He’s right. I was the one who didn’t want to venture down that road. But now, I can’t stop it anymore because I don’t want to stop it.

“Fear is something that I’ve lived with for a long time, Rome. It was something almost normal to me,” I admit. The waiter brings our starters. The focaccia, along with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, is set between us, along with a small bowl of olives and butter.

“Enjoy,” he says before heading into the kitchen once more, and I can’t help but grin stupidly at Rome.

“You told me your mother enjoyed food, and that’s where your love of cooking came from. I asked Mia to prepare something Italian for us, and starting with bread and olive oil with the balsamic reduction is what she suggested.”

“She’s good.”

“She is, because I know nothing about food, so if anything isn’t to your liking, take it up with her,” Rome teases. His chuckle makes me laugh, and the tension that was between us earlier eases somewhat.

“You really didn’t have to go through so much trouble, but I’m glad you did,” I tell him, picking up a sliver of bread and dipping it in the oily liquid. The sharpness of the vinegar with the gentleness of the oil makes for a delicious combination. A moan escapes me as I chew, and the darkness that overtakes Rome’s gaze tells me he’s thinking about something other than the food we’re about to eat.