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Chapter Four

Eva

I still can’t believe I’m here. This is it. I’m living in New York City and starting my own design company. The reality of it feels heavy but exciting.

Walker was supposed to be here to help me move in, but something came up with work. As a lawyer in New York City, he has last-minute dilemmas that need his immediate attention. I don’t hold it over his head, though it would be nice to get some help.

My car is filled to the brim with boxes and bags, stuffed to the max. The movers stacked the rest of my boxes in the middle of the family room.

This apartment is insane. It is an open concept with amazing views of the city at every twist and turn. The walls are white, as are the countertops and cabinets. There are large stainless-steel appliances with sharp gold features. The hardwood floors are dark.

Walker is a pain in my ass. I told him I wanted to rent my own place. The moment I said the amount of what I could afford, he lost it on me. Apparently, I was a damsel in distress who wouldn’t survive in the city without a doorman and security.

I could have put my foot down, but that would have meant he would follow me around the city like a psycho. This is the lesser of two evils.

I take a deep breath as I prepare myself for the trips it will take up and down this apartment to get my car unloaded. At least Josh, the doorman, is allowing me to park it outside the building to unload it.

My hand reaches for the door to open it at the same time a knock sounds on the other side. I jump at the sudden noise, then twist the knob and open it.

A small gasp escapes my lungs.

“Roman,” I say softly. “What are you doing here?”

My heart is pounding against the walls of my chest like it’s trying to make an escape. There’s something about him. The way he looks at me. I felt it throughout my interview.

“Walker told me you needed help.”

He’s wearing black joggers and a fitted gray T-shirt. His muscles appear to be begging to tear their way out of his shirt. There are so many, and they are everywhere. The man must work out—a lot.

“You didn’t have to come all the way over here to help.”

“I think I can handle going down one flight of stairs,” he says in his familiar, cold tone.

He is so serious. I get the impression that he doesn’t let loose much. Then his words hit me.

“You’re the friend of Walker’s who lives upstairs?”

He nods his head with his hands in his pockets. “That’s me. This is my building.”

“I see,” I reply as my brain conjures up images of him only a floor above me, doing things I shouldn’t be picturing.

“Is that okay with you?”

I shake my head to get the images out.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says in a harsh voice.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I’m okay with that. In fact, thank you for allowing me to stay here.”

“I did it for Walker.”

“Right. Of course. Still … thank you,” I reply awkwardly.

A moment of silence stretches between the two of us. I try to divert my eyes from his body, but they keep going back for more.

“What can I help you with?”

“You really don’t have to …”

“Just tell me where I can help,” he demands.

I glance uneasily over my shoulder, contemplating whether I want to accept his cold offer to help. Then I think about the number of trips it will take to unload my car on my own.

My lips thin with irritation. “I could use help unloading my car. It’s just outside.”

He nods his head. “Let’s go.”

The elevator ride down to the lobby is silent. I can’t help but worry that this is what it will be like to work with Roman. It seems as if he hates me—yet he hired me.

I lead him outside to my car and open the trunk. He dives in and grabs a box filled with my favorite books.

“You don’t have to grab that one. It’s so heavy,” I say sympathetically.

“It’s fine, Eva. Just grab what you can.”

We work like this for the next hour. He keeps his head down and makes sure to carry all the heaviest items.

By the time we’re done, I’m sweating underneath my sweater. Yesterday, it was seventy and sunny. Today, it’s cloudy and fifty. Just one of those months where you can wake up and need a coat and strip down to a T-shirt by the afternoon.

Just as I drop the last bag from my shoulder to the ground in the family room, I reach for the bottom of my sweater and yank it off. I throw it over a stack of boxes as I survey the mess. I’m only one person who’s only been on this earth for twenty-seven years. How do I have this much crap?

I lift my head to find Roman’s eyes furiously taking me in. They land on my chest, where I believe my cleavage may be popping out of my tank top. The sports bra that I have on tends to push them up.

He’s giving me the same look he did in his office. It’s unfamiliar to me. It sparks a strange kind of excitement that makes my panties wet.

I watch his hands curl into tight fists at his sides, like he’s fighting against an immense amount of rage within him. I don’t know if it’s me who creates that rage in him or if he just carries it around with him, but it’s equal parts scary and enticing.

“Well, thank you for your help,” I tell him as my breathing accelerates.

His eyes remain focused on my chest as it moves up and down rapidly. They hold a firm warning in them as they meet mine.

“Let me know if you need anything. The city can be a dangerous place.”

With that, he turns away without so much as a goodbye and walks out of my apartment.

My entire body is stiff with tension. I’m not sure what to think about the fact that Roman is the friendly neighbor my brother was referring to. I wouldn’t use friendly as the adjective to describe him.

Mysterious. Confusing. Grumpy. Those are more fitting for the man I now call my client.

He is exactly the opposite of any guy I’ve ever been around. I like to laugh and have fun. He seems to be where fun goes to die.

But then there’s the way my body responds to him. When his eyes darkened after I took my sweater off, the room filled with so much energy that I felt it wash over my skin. It was like he touched me with just a look.

I survey the chaos that is my new apartment. I can’t spend the time worrying about what he thinks of me or why he seems to be such a coldhearted prick. I need to spend the weekend getting this place in order so that I am ready to hit the ground running on Monday.

The first room that I need in order is my bedroom. If I’m going to survive working with Roman, a good night’s sleep will be a must.

I head into the master bedroom and can’t help but smile. The large windows and white walls with crown moldings make the room seem so spacious.

I can’t believe my dream is becoming a reality. I’m a business owner in New York City, who landed an account with the best luxury hotel company in America. It’s more than I could have hoped for.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I twist the gold knob, and my best friend from high school, Jessie, is standing there, holding a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

Her blonde hair and bright smile instantly calm any residual feelings of uneasiness from Roman.

“What are you doing here?” I scream.

She walks in and opens her arms. “I finally get my best friend back in the state. I’m here to celebrate.”

I wrap my arms around her, not realizing how much I needed this. My own parents didn’t even show up to welcome me back home. They’re still upset that I’m focusing my efforts on my career and not finding a suitable man to marry.

My mother called me just the other night to tell me that her friends were all talking about weddings and babies. Then she said she conveniently ran into a friend whose son was a doctor and newly single.

I pull away and try to contain the thick feelings of emotion sitting heavily on my chest. “Come on in. I was just going to start getting my room unpacked.”

“If you need someone to organize your closet, I’m your girl.”

She follows me into the kitchen. I take the champagne from her and place it on the island then begin to open it. The cork flies up and hits the ceiling. We both scream, as usual, the fear of being hit by the flying cork a very real threat every single time.

I fill the glasses, and she holds hers up to toast.

“Two best friends back together and taking New York City by storm.”

I giggle as I clink my glass to hers, then take a sip. The bubbles instantly dance around my tongue like tiny, bouncy balls.

“You’re going to get me into trouble, aren’t you?”

She shrugs her shoulders innocently. “Who, me? I’d never.”

We both burst into a fit of laughter.

Jessie is a known troublemaker. She is fiercely independent and not afraid to make a scene. But she has a huge heart, and most of the scenes she makes are to stand up for what’s right. That’s why I love her.

She’s a lawyer who worked in Washington, DC, for years and just moved back to New York only a year ago to join a new firm.

Jessie works in family law and spends most of her time trying to help women involved in domestic violence prove their case and get full custody of the kids.

It’s a stressful job that oftentimes leaves her feeling beaten down and pessimistic about the world we live in.

It’s my job to try to make sure she sees the good in the world.

“Come on. Let me give you a tour.”

I lead her around the apartment while she oohs and aahs at all the features. We end up in the master bedroom, where we start to open boxes and hang my clothes up in the large closet.

“Eva, this place is insane. How can you afford it?”

Before I grab another dress, I take a big sip of my champagne.

“My brother insists on covering the rent. I can’t afford a place like this, but he didn’t feel safe with my choices.

Plus, his best friend owns the building and happens to live upstairs in the penthouse. It’s his way of keeping tabs on me.”

“Ugh, Walker needs to get a life. He has been up your ass since the day you got boobs.”

“Jessie”—I laugh as I swat her arm— “you’re so vulgar. And he is not up my ass. He just worries about me. I know it’s a little much at times, but his heart is in the right place.”

She pulls out a strapless red dress with a sweetheart neckline that basically ends just below my ass. “Eva Harlow, this dress is fabulous. I would never have pictured you going for something so … revealing.”

“I’ve never had the guts to wear it. Hence the tag that’s still on it.”

“Well, that’s our mission now that you’ve got me back in your life on the regular. We are going to loosen you up. When’s the last time you had sex?”

Not this again. Ever since I told her that I didn’t really enjoy sex, she has made it her personal mission to figure out why.

“Don’t get started on this,” I sigh.

Jessie’s hands fall to her hips. “Answer the question.”

“Fine! It’s been, like …” I stop and ponder for a moment. Chad and I dated for six months and broke up around April of last year. Shit . “I guess it’s been a year.”

She doesn’t even respond, just gets back to work. Leaving Jessie at a loss for words is a bad sign.

I start to think about Chad. He was … nice. A stand-up guy and very chivalrous. We wanted the same things in life. From the outside, looking in, we should’ve been a good fit. But something was missing.

That’s the feeling I get with all my boyfriends. I can never put my finger on what is missing. I just don’t know what it is. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with me.