Page 14 of Sinful Promises

We sipped our rosé and peered out over one of the most incredible sights in Rome. In the distance, the Colosseum was illuminated to perfection and dominated the horizon. Between the ancient stadium and the terrace we were seated on, were the ruins of several significant archaeological sites that’d been on display for nearly two thousand years. Views did not get any better than this.

The minutes ticked on, and our conversation flowed from what we did today to various aspects of our view that Roman pointed out. Everything was absolutely perfect. This day would be forever known as one of the greatest highlights of my life.

My heart swelled with that thought.

But it deflated just moments later when I realized that we may never have another moment like this. Time was running out.

“What’s wrong?” Roman cocked his head.

Shrugging, I released a deep sigh. “I was just thinking how wonderful this is.”

Blinking at me, he sipped his wine. Then put the glass down with an inquisitive expression. “But you looked sad.”

Roman was just like Zali. He could read my bloody mind. And that was sooo dangerous. But there was no point in lying. Weighed down by a sadness that wouldn’t go away, I said, “I was also thinking of how limited my days were in Europe.”

A shroud of darkness clouded his eyes. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

The butterflies in my stomach did a little happy dance. But could he just be saying that to placate me? After all, Roman was the master at making people happy.

“Me too.”

The waiter appeared at Roman’s shoulder. “Are you ready to place your order?”

“Oh, sorry. Been chatting.”

“No problemo. Take your time.” Bowing, he backed away.

Yeah, back up, buddy. We’ve got all the time in the world. Actually, no . . . we didn’t. In fact, we were pressed for time. How can I get Roman drinking?

Roman picked up the menu. “You hungry?”

“Always.” I raised my glass. We chinked them together and drank.

Placing his glass down, a curious smile curled at his lips.

“What?” I frowned.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Oh, yes. It’s really good. You?” I raised mine to my lips, hoping he’d do the same.

“Of course. It’s from Italy. Only the best.”

Just like you.

Looking at me all weird, he collected the menu and relief washed through me. I needed to be careful. Maybe he could read my bloody mind.

Roman ran his finger down the menu. “What do you like to eat?”

“Everything.”

He frowned. “That’s not helpful.”

“It’s true. I grew up on Coco Pops and Vegemite. I haven’t tried a single food yet that I didn’t like.”

“Really? What about liver or kidney?”

“Yeah, yum. Bring on a steak and kidney pie any day. As long as the pastry is good.”