“Why don’t you pick out a bottle of wine and pour us some glasses. I need a moment in the restroom, but then I want to tell you something.” Roman closed the bathroom door behind him and stared in the mirror. He needed to get his nerves under control so he could stop affecting Jessica.
“Get your shit together, man.” He took a deep, calming breath. “Just go out there and tell her the truth. Look her in the eyes and say, ‘Jessica, I’m sure this is all very confusing, but the truth is, I’m a vampire, and you and I are bonded mates. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, but I didn’t want this…’ no, don’t say that you idiot.” Roman took another deep breath. “Jessica, you know how things feel a bit different than usual between us? Well, the simple answer is you’re mine. I mean, we are bonded mates. I’m a vampire.” Roman stared into his own eyes and sighed. “Yep, I’m totally fucked.”
Jessica picked a bottle of cabernet with an ornate castle on the label, opened the bottle, and poured their glasses. She took hers to the window and looked out over the lights of Vegas. She was starting to see it through a different lens these last two days with Roman, but something felt off. She couldn’t put her finger on it, yet something was definitely weird about their whole situation.
This entire thing was so out of character for her, and she felt really off balance—which in and of itself was odd. Jessica always considered herself fairly grounded and in control; this was like flying wildly around the sky.
What the hell is taking him so long in there? Jessica’s nerves were quickly inching up. Something is wrong here, she thought.
Roman finally reappeared from the bathroom and stopped when Jessica made eye contact, blurting out his next words.
“I’m a vampire. I’m 300 years old. You’re… we… we’re…” He trailed off, probably from seeing the look on her face.
Jessica was dead quiet for a few heartbeats and then started laughing sardonically. Roman at first appeared relieved, starting to smile with her, but then must have realized there was zero mirth and a hundred percent malice as his face dropped.
“You know what? I fucking knew it.” Jessica slammed her glass down on the table, surprised it didn’t break, and ripped her robe off. She aggressively shimmied into each article of clothing as she came across them, muttering to herself while once and awhile looking at Roman and saying something like “asshole,” “piece of shit playboy,” or “cowardly cocksucker.”
Roman appeared to have lost the ability to speak. He just stood there watching her collect her things and hearing everything she said, not just the insults hurled directly at him.
“Jessica… I—”
“Save it. Don’t speak to me. ‘I’m a vampire?’ Really? How stupid do you think I am? Don’t answer that. Clearly, you think I’m an idiotic plaything to distract you while you’re in this hellhole.” She walked to the door and turned around, looking at him stunned to silence over her shoulder. “I don’t ever want to see your face again.” And with that, she walked out the door, pissed that she couldn’t slam it.
CHAPTER 7
Roman didn’t move from his post just outside the bathroom for a few minutes after she left. The intense waves of anger and hurt that radiated from Jessica were almost suffocating him. What was he supposed to do? Grab her? Make her stay and listen? Roman was certain he’d never made anyone feel quite like that, and the thought that it was Jessica brought on the most intense waves of self-loathing.
Which, the more everything marinated within him, gave way to floodgates of rage. This was his own fault. As soon as he realized who and what Jessica was, he should have left this place and never come back. He picked up the glass she’d poured for him, drained it, and then threw it against the wall.
Roman was furious with himself for thinking he could actually have her, that he could share his heart, soul, and body with a woman. He’d wanted it too badly, had denied it for so long, and had settled on never having it. Now that he’d experienced it, how was he going to live without her?
He threw the bottle of wine on the floor, cabernet and glass scattered everywhere. Roman walked over to the chair that still had Jessica’s jacket on it, picked it up, and threw it against the glass windows where it made an unsatisfying thunk sound instead of shattering into pieces like he felt was happening to him.
Roman took a deep breath and went back to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. When he brought his face back up to look at his reflection, he punched the glass and thought that was a better reflection of how he felt on the inside.
“Fuck this. I have to get outta here.” Roman quickly got dressed and left his room. No way did he want to run into anyone he knew, so he left Muse and headed to a neighboring building. Making his way to a private bar, he figured he’d handle this like any other night: gin and fucking some random female. The moment he thought about the possibility of taking someone else to bed, his whole body began to ache, and his stomach churned. “Son of a fucking bitch,” Roman said, grasping his side and swallowing some bile.
“What was that, sir?” the doorman of the club asked.
“Nothing,” Roman replied, slipping him a wad of hundreds.
“Have a nice evening, sir,” the man replied, moving over to let Roman through. He made a beeline for the back of the bar to sit in a semi-private lounge area with a small purple couch and black table. Roman ordered a bottle of gin and sat anxiously bouncing his leg until the server returned. He filled up the highball glass and downed it in three swallows, followed by another.
After the two full glasses, Roman poured a third and leaned back against the couch, finally able to feel some craziness leave his body. He closed his eyes, but Jessica’s face monopolized his imagination.
“Would you like some company?” Roman made slits with his eyes to see a tall woman with champagne-colored hair pulled back into a high and long ponytail wearing a tight, black jumpsuit.
“It’s a free country. Well, for some of you. Do whatever the fuck you want.” He threw back the glass, finishing the drink and poured another.
The woman was undaunted by his rudeness and laughed a bit as she took a seat.
“You seem to be having the opposite of a good time. What could be so terrible in a place so deliciously sinful?”
Roman just harrumphed and took another drink.
“Perhaps it’s your amazing conversational skills that have all the women lined up, ready for a turn,” she practically purred, and Roman thought he was going to vomit.
“I don’t care if you sit there. I don’t want to talk.”
“How about I buy us some drinks? I’m not much of a gin drinker myself.” She motioned to the bar with a little nod and circled her finger in the air for another round of whatever she was drinking. When the drinks arrived, Roman took his in one shot, barely tasting whatever the hell it was.
“See, that wasn’t so bad. I’m not so terrible when you get to know me.” She moved a little closer to Roman who decided he was actually starting to feel even worse than before if that was possible.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real gem. Look, thanks for the drink. I’m heading out.” Roman shook his head a little, realizing he might have pushed the limits of his tolerance.
“But we’re having such a nice time,” she said as she placed a hand on his knee.
Now Roman was sure he was going to retch and preferred the bathroom for that event. He went to stand up but couldn’t feel his hands as he tried to push off the couch.
“What?” he said to himself. When he tried to get up again, his body would not comply with the commands from his brain. “Whattthefucckk,” he slurred as he made a last effort to hurl himself off the couch, but succeeded in falling flat on the table, breaking his glass, immobile but still conscious.
The woman, who didn’t seem surprised in the least, stood up without the languid motion she had been carrying herself in since approaching Roman. Her demeanor snapped from sultry temptress to high-powered boss bitch within moments.
She touched her finger to her ear and said, “The package is ready for shipment.”
