Page 43 of Hate On

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Roman didn’t quite makeit to the car before he gave into the urge to call her.

She answered on the second ring. “What happened to not a chance?”

“Be like that and I’ll just hang up,” he replied.

“And then you’ll call back.”

He would, too. He didn’t know how long it would take him, but he was going crazy not seeing her.

Instead of responding to that, he asked, “Think you can be discreet?”

“About…”

“Anything and everything, if need be.” He reached his car, but instead of climbing inside, he leaned against it, facing the house.

“I’m as discreet as I need to be.”

That was good enough. She’d understand the need for discretion. He allowed one more moment of internal debate, then said, “You think you can avoid mixing business with pleasure?”

“It’s my personal preference.”

This is stupid, Roman.

And it was, he knew it. Still, he didn’t hang up the phone. “If you can be discreet and avoid mixing pleasure and business, then yes…we can call a truce.”

She didn’t respond at first.

In fact, her silence stretched out so long that he prodded her with, “Well?”

“I think you should admit that you missed me first,” she said, her tone light, almost teasing.

“You want me to admit that I missed you.”

“Well, I thought about telling you that you should crawl and beg for forgiveness after the way you acted on the elevator, but that’s not in my makeup. Tell me you missed me and that will be good enough.”

As soon as she mentioned the elevator, the urge to apologize did leap to his lips, but he bit it back. They were calling a truce. That was good enough.

Still staring at the house, he brooded in silence briefly, then said, “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll show you. Meet me at my place?”

“I’d rather you come to mine.”

He didn’t bother asking why. She might not trust him not to pull another stunt, and he wasn’t sure he could blame her. “Okay. I’ll be there in a bit. I’ve got a stop to make first.”

17

Julianna

The terse textfrom Roman might have taken some of the light out of her world, but the phone call from him put it all back in.

Sitting in the back of the car, she lowered the phone, barely resisting the girlish urge to clasp it to her chest and grin like an idiot.

Roman was coming over.

And hehadmissed her.

Maybe he wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he’d missed her. Briefly, she thought about what her father had said about the bullishness of Montrose men. She didn’t know how he knew that, but she did have to agree with him—Roman struck her as being exceedingly bullish and stubborn.