up in his head, and he couldn’t untangle them. That investor would have helped her. He couldn’t divulge details until the contracts were set, but his client, Clare Belford, was the perfect fit for that company. She had one of the biggest nonprofits for abused women in the country, and she’d loved the idea of Allie’s gym being linked up with several of them.
Because of a nondisclosure agreement he had with Clare, he hadn’t been able to tell Allie that, but if she’d just trusted him, she would have found out shortly.
Except she hadn’t trusted him.
He was good enough to fuck, but anything beyond that was strictly off-limits. The thought had him downing the rest of his drink despite his best intentions. He motioned to the bartender to refill the glass, doing his best to ignore the curious look he could feel Aaron giving him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Holy fuck.” Aaron leaned against the bar, blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not business at all—it’s woman trouble.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ don’t you get?”
“You do want to talk about it. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Aaron waited for the bartender to slide the newly filled glass over before continuing. “You weren’t seeing anyone before you left for the island, and that place has a limited population of guests, so there was only one woman there who’d be twisting you up like this.” He whistled softly. “You and Allie Landers? I thought you didn’t mix business with pleasure.”
“I don’t—didn’t.” He eyed his glass but didn’t pick it up.
“You might as well get it off your chest. I can’t say I’ve ever had that look on my face, but I have three sisters, so I know a thing or two about women.”
Roman almost commented on the fact that if he had to recall his sisters for advice instead of his own dating history, he wasn’t much help. But the truth was that Roman had a varied dating history and he’d never been this fucked up over a woman. Even his worst breakups and the respective aftermaths had been filled with a sense of peace because it was the right call.
There was no peace in this.
He nudged his glass farther away. “I had all the answers. The solution to everything she needed. All I got for my trouble was a kick in the ass as she showed me the door.” When Aaron made a noncommittal noise, he kept going. “I never planned on her. Fuck, man, she’s strong and gorgeous and smart as hell. I’m talking full package. I thought we were on the same wavelength, but she didn’t even try to see that I might actually be right. She’s so determined to do things her way, she won’t even give us a shot.”
“You want the bro-supportive view or real talk?”
He finally looked at Aaron. Roman could have called Gideon to come drink with him, but his other friend was so deep in his romantic bliss with Lucy Baudin that he wouldn’t be able to commiserate. Aaron, at least, was single. All Roman had really wanted was someone to drink with who wouldn’t press too hard, but he’d underestimated Aaron. It was tempting to say he wanted the supportive viewpoint, but Roman had never shied away from the shitty side of things, so he went with the hard truth option. “The latter.”
“You fucked up.”
He blinked. “How do you figure?”
“Look at this from her perspective—you crashed her vacation and, yeah, maybe your intense chemistry made everything else take a back seat for the week, but nothing really changed. You were still the conquering enemy force once you two got back to New York. You have the standard contract with the prospective investor?”
“Yeah. Always.”
Aaron nodded. “So even if it’s the best fit, you aren’t telling her shit about this person and you’re expecting her to just take your word for it. From all accounts, Allie Landers is a woman who’s been holding the world on her shoulders and dealing with every issue that’s arisen on her own. You can’t seriously have expected her to just flip on a dime and put everything she’s worked years for on the line on your word alone.”
“I expected her to trust me,” Roman snapped. The fact she hadn’t still stung like a bitch.
“Why?”
He growled. “Because I would never hurt her or what she cares about.”
“Maybe you know that. Maybe she even knows that on some level.” Aaron shrugged. “If your delivery was anything similar to the one you’ve given tonight, you can’t blame her for telling you to fuck off. Maybe the sex changed things for you both, but if you didn’t tell her that, how’s she supposed to know? She’s not a damn mind reader.”
He wanted to rail at his friend—at Allie—that she should have trusted him anyway, but... What had he really done to earn that trust? A multitude of orgasms was great, but it didn’t translate—a fact he damn well knew. He’d opened up about his past a bit, but he hadn’t exactly made himself overly vulnerable to her. He’d held back. They might have established a connection, but it certainly didn’t earn him the amount of trust he could expect her to stake her business on. He drank some of his whiskey, forcing himself to go slow. “I care about her.”
“And it’s making you stupid. Don’t worry—you’re not the only one who’s done it. She made mistakes in this, too, but we’re not talking about her. We’re talking about you.” Aaron took a pull of his beer. “The question remains—what the hell are you going to do about it?”
Allie cared about him. Roman would bet everything he owned on that fact. His pride might be demanding he let the whole thing go and move on with his life...but he couldn’t wrap his mind around moving on from this. Allie was special. More than what he felt for her, he wanted her to succeed in the vision she’d put into play. He wanted to be by her side when she saw it realized. If he walked now, he wouldn’t do any of that.
What was his pride when compared with his happiness—and hers?
He checked his watch and stood. “I’m going to go get my girl.”
“There you go.” Aaron toasted him with his beer. “Though I’d recommend waiting for morning, since it’s after ten.”
Roman was already turning for the door. “I have a few calls to make. I’ll catch up with you later.” He had several things to line up before he could talk to Allie. If he wanted a chance to succeed in winning her back, he had to be able to present new information—to change the narrative.
* * *
A pounding on the door brought Allie out of her light doze. She shot to her feet before she realized that she wasn’t in her bed, and nearly tripped over the coffee table. She scrubbed a hand over her face and headed for the door as whoever was on the other side kept knocking. For one crazy moment she was sure it was Roman, coming to find her after last night to say... She didn’t know what. Something.
But when she opened the door, it was Becka on the other side. Her friend took one look at her and shook her head. “Oh, God. It’s worse than I thought.”
“What?”
Becka nudged her back into the apartment and shut the door. “You. You are worse than I thought. Look at you—you’re wearing holey sweats, you have powdered sugar on your shirt and there are ink stains all over your hands. Something is going on with you, and I want to know what it is. Did Roman do something? Do I need to kick his ass to Brooklyn and back?”
“What? No.” Yes. Sort of. She smoothed her hair back, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t showered today and her messy bun was more mess than bun. “Roman and I had a vacation fling and it’s over now.”
Becka narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You were well on your way to head over heels for that guy, and from the way he looked at you, he was right there with you. So