Breathe You In (Sweet Torment 1)

“Still looking down when you walk?” He shook his head, not bothering to say the rest.

He had recited this bit of “constructive criticism,” as he called it, at least a dozen times in the years we’d dated. But instead of nodding and complying like I would have when I was younger, I squared my shoulders and prepared to walk around him without sparing him a word.

“Here to see your boyfriend?” he snapped, then puffed out his chest. My pulse quickened a bit, but I focused on maintaining a steady presence.

“That’s none of your business, Warren,” I said coolly, happy that Bill’s interview training was paying off.

Warren was obviously upset about something and ready to spit fire. I had enough experience with his temper to know that I wanted no part in that. Simply walking away, I left him to mutter whatever unflattering thing he was saying under his breath. It felt good.

When I got to Roman’s office, the door was open and he and Bill were talking. I peeked in.

“Amy?” Roman said.

“Hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can go.”

“No, come in.” Roman seemed a little upset, and so did Bill. Something was going on with the men under this roof today.

“What’s that?” Bill nodded at the paper bag in my hand.

“I made Roman a lunch.” I’d shredded a left over pork chop from last night’s dinner and made it into a sandwich.

I glanced at Roman and a smile split his face. Bill, however, looked confused.

“I’ve never seen you guys eat lunch around here,” I offered.

This morning, after I had gotten out of Roman’s bed and dressed, it had occurred to me that maybe bringing him something would be nice. I didn’t know what he typically did with his afternoons, or if he even had time to eat. But the way Bill was glaring made me feel like an idiot for thinking such a thing.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Roman said. He kissed my forehead and took the bag, putting it on his desk. Then he looked at Bill. “We’ll discuss this more later.”

Bill leered at me for some reason, then returned his attention to Roman. “Don’t let things that aren’t important affect your campaign,” Bill snapped, then stomped out.

Roman shut the door behind him and returned to me.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Politics.” There was a good deal of annoyance in his voice.

“I saw—well, ran into—Warren in the hallway,” I admitted.

“He jus

t left,” Roman said and walked behind his desk. “He came to get my support in his bid for his mother’s seat.”

My mouth dropped open. I’d known Warren was running, but had had no idea he would ask Roman for support.

“Are you going to support him?”

“Most likely.”

My heart did a summersault, and I felt instantly sick. “But he’s…awful.”

Not to mention, I’d seen how Roman looked up to Ken Stanton, Warren’s competition.

“I’m aware,” Roman said. “But believe it or not, this isn’t about you. I can’t base my decisions on what my girlfriend thinks.”

That summersault came to a dead halt, and for a moment I thought my heart had actually burst. Gone was the carefree Roman of this morning, who smiled and was sweet. Instead, I got a hard look that chilled my skin so fast, the violent shiver made me sway on my feet.

“I just came to drop that off,” I said, motioning to the stupid sack lunch and feeling very much like a child. “Have a good day,” I managed and turned to leave.