by Gina LaManna
“What’d you want to talk about?” Anne asked, sounding agitated. As if she were ready to get the check before her beverage had even arrived.
“I just thought it’d be good to catch up,” Eliza said. “What with me venturing out on my own at the company and you…well, having four children, it’s been ages since we got together without a specific reason.”
“Well, I have to pay a sitter every time I leave the house these days since Mark is hardly around, and I can’t afford that, so… I suppose you could swing by for coffee if you’re bored, but you’ll have to take an aspirin to avoid a headache with how screechy the twins have been lately.”
“Sounds relaxing,” Eliza said. “Maybe you should hire a babysitter more. You liked that Penny, didn’t you?”
“Yes, thanks again,” Anne said, warming to the topic as Eliza had hoped she would. “That woman has been a lifesaver. But she still costs money.”
“What do you think about her?” Eliza asked. “As a person?”
“Who, Penny?”
Eliza nodded.
“I don’t know. She seems great with the kids. She doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask too many questions. I think she steals some of our food, but hey, better she eat our old Doritos than me. My ass doesn’t need the carbs.”
“She steals food? Isn’t that”—Eliza hesitated—“wrong?”
“I dunno,” Anne said. “I tell her to help herself to anything in the fridge or pantry. I just figured, you know, she probably didn’t mow through an entire family-sized pack of chips at once, which means she probably shoved the bag in her purse or something. Who cares? She’s broke.”
“Most people in Roman’s classes are,” Eliza said dryly. “Nature of the business.”
“Why do you ask?” Anne pressed. “I’m not mad at you or anything for the referral. I’ll sacrifice a bag of chips any day for a woman who’s good with the kids and doesn’t charge an arm and a leg to watch them.”
“No reason.”
“Bullshit,” Anne called. “You always have a reason. Did Penny say something to Roman about us? For Pete’s sake, did Mark try to get her to tattle on me, too?”
“Tattle on you?”
“Forget it,” Anne said. “Why do you care about Penny?”
Eliza glanced upward at the hotel, noting the open balconies, the couples lounging on their private terraces, the soft clink of silverware from overhead as hotel guests enjoyed their breakfasts. Is my husband one of them? Eliza wondered. Is Penny?
“I’ve found some receipts,” Eliza admitted. “Receipts for rooms at the Pelican Hotel.”
“You’re kidding me.” Anne tipped her glasses all the way off her face and squinted upward.
For a moment, Eliza wondered if her friend would shout out Roman’s name to the rooftop. Eliza wasn’t sure she’d have stopped her if she did, but eventually, Anne turned her attention back to earth as the server appeared with two large lattes frothed to perfection.
“I hate to say I’m not surprised,” Anne said with extra snap to her voice. “But frankly, I wouldn’t put it past Roman.”
“You’ve never liked him,” Eliza said. “You didn’t give him a chance.”
“Did he deserve one?” Anne asked pointedly, then reached for her coffee and took a big sip.
Eliza knew Anne had never been the biggest fan of Roman’s, but it’d always been sort of a passive thing before. An echo in the dark. A subtle comment here or there. Much slyer than Marguerite Hill’s more overwhelming jabs to get rid of her husband, stat. But this morning, Anne had no shame as she spoke ill of Roman. Eliza only wondered if it was because of the potential affair or something else.
“I won’t argue with you on that,” Eliza said. “But I have to wonder if it’s one of his students.”
“You think it’s Penny?” Anne considered, then frowned and shook her head. “No way. The girl’s way too innocent.”
“You said she steals your food.”
“She took a bag of chips,” Anne said. “Honestly, the valet prices here are worse theft than whatever Penny’s capable of.”
“It’s a slippery slope,” Eliza said.
“Do you have any reason to suspect it’s Penny?”
Eliza thought back to the night of the book launch party for Marguerite Hill. The key card, the quiet looks, the elevator. The fact that Roman had been late coming home—if he came home at all—over the last few weeks. Ever since the stupid loan from his parents.
“Besides the fact that she’s sweet, pretty, and, you know, otherwise adorable?” Anne prompted. “I don’t think it’s Penny. Could it be someone else?”
“It could be,” Eliza murmured.
It’s not, she thought, looking up again. A charge was pending from the Pelican Hotel from last night on Roman’s credit card. Eliza wondered if he was trying to hide it at all anymore or if he just didn’t care.
“I know this sucks,” Anne said. “Believe me, I know how you’re feeling right now. But it’s just an affair.”
“Just an affair? You almost died when you found out Mark was having an affair—not that I blame you. But what changed?”
“There are things worse than affairs,” Anne said cryptically. “I got over it. Whatever. And I hate to break it to you, but I think this was a long time coming. Roman only married you for your money.”
“He married me because he loved me.” Eliza lowered her voice.
“Sure, sure,” Anne said with a roll of her eyes. “He likes to play the hero and say he married you so you could stay in the country, but that’s all an act. You were set up to make one of the fattest salaries out of your graduating class. You don’t think Roman could see the writing on the wall? He knew his parents were cutting him off financially after college. He knew you’d be able to pick up the torch and carry on providing for him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Eliza said, though she’d wondered the same thing a million times. She just hadn’t wondered it aloud.
“He’s smart—when he wants to be,” Anne said. “He knew you’d feel indebted to him after the quickie ceremony. He made himself out to be a martyr, but it was all an act so you’d put up with him acting like a jerk for the rest of your life.”
“And how do you know this?”
“Because I’m on the outside looking in,” Anne said. “Don’t tell me I’m the only person who doesn’t like your husband.”
Eliza thought back to her wedding day. The very day Roman’s own mother had warned her about him. She thought to Marguerite and how the bestselling author seemed to have a vendetta against him, too. Eliza had always explained away the latter by blaming Marguerite’s concerns on her overall attitude about men: one of skepticism and distrust. But maybe she’d been wrong.
“It’s not your fault.” Anne melted, letting down her victorious front in exchange for a more sympathetic one. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come off that way. I’m sorry this happened to you. But honestly, I wouldn’t put anything past Roman.”
“What’d he do to you?” Eliza retorted, somewhat annoyed that Anne suddenly seemed to think she knew more about Roman than Eliza herself. “When have you ever initiated a conversation with Roman outside of a dinner party where I made the two of you talk?”
“This isn’t a competition,” Anne said. “You invited me here. You asked for my opinion. Roman’s the bad guy here, not me.”
“I’m not sure that he is. Maybe there’s an explanation for everything.”
“Maybe. Or maybe the explanation is exactly what you think it is. The question is what you’re going to do about it.” Anne pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. “Let me know if you need ideas, because I have a few.”
“I feel like your ideas would scare me.”
Anne shrugged one shoulder. “That’s what happens when you’ve got nothing to lose.”
TRANSCRIPT
Defense: When did your relationship with Roman Tate turn sour, Ms. Sands?
Penny Sands: A few weeks after it turned g
reat.
Defense: And what was the turning point of your short-lived relationship?
Penny Sands: That damn pink line.
Defense: Please be more specific.
Penny Sands: I took a pregnancy test, and it turned out positive. Specific enough?
TWENTY-THREE
Five Months Before
September 2018
Damn it!” Penny chirped happily as one of many millions of Angeleno drivers swooped in front of her to steal the only parking space left on the block. “Idiot! Asshole!”
Whistling a cheerful tune, Penny pulled around the offending vehicle, offering an altogether pleasant middle finger as she sailed around the idiot driver in search of a new spot. Penny doubted anyone had ever been as happy as she to be shouting obscenities at random strangers. But her upbeat outbursts could mean only one thing: she’d bought herself a car.
It had been a few weeks since she’d first gone to bed with Roman Tate. Ever since that evening, they’d been spending several nights a week together back where it’d all started. Picturing her life together with Roman once he was truly free was Penny’s new favorite pastime.
She dreamed about spending every evening twined around him. Lounging in bed on weekend mornings together as they sipped steaming coffee and basked under fresh sunlight. Their midnights would be filled with joyful whispers. Maybe one day, they’d even start a family.
In addition to her blossoming relationship with Roman, Penny’s job at the casting company had held steady. A small miracle. Between that and the cash she’d squirreled away babysitting the Wilkes children, tacked on top of the paltry savings from her bank account, she’d managed to procure a Cadillac from the seventies that had more yacht in its DNA than car.
But Penny didn’t care that it was next to impossible to park her new ride with a less-than-thirteen-point turn or that she needed to start right-hand turns a block early. Nor did she care that the paint was peeling and patches of rust tore at its skin with sharp, invasive fingernails. She definitely ignored the untalented patch job done over blemishes that suspiciously resembled bullet holes.
Penny Sands was damn proud of her car.
It represented her freedom in a whole new city. She’d moved with nothing across the country, and now she had something. She had an apartment, a job, a car…a sort of a boyfriend. Or a man-friend, really. Roman was mature and established. He knew what he was doing; he’d proved that and then some.
Whistling, Penny cruised around the block several times, earning side-eye glances from several passersby about the state of her car. She smiled brightly back. When she finally found an open slot, she eased into it with the grace of a buffalo, overly cautious not to add another dent to her precious vehicle. As she fed quarters to a hungry meter, she studied her car with the adoration of a new mother.
Nobody could ruin her bliss this evening. She had class under Roman’s tutelage, and they were going out for drinks after—alone. Penny was sure they’d retire to her apartment once drinks had been drunk. Just the thought sent a thrill through her bones.
But Penny’s luck seemed to be running out. As she locked her car door manually, she looked up to find Ryan Anderson climbing out of his vehicle just across the street. He raised a hand and waved. It was too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him, though she flirted with the idea of feigning she’d forgotten something in her car. Instead, she waved back.
“Hey, Ryan,” she said after he’d dodged traffic and joined her on the sidewalk. “How’s it going?”
“I see you got a car.” He nodded at her beast of a vehicle. “Congrats. The babysitting gig working out for you?”
“Babysitting?” Penny fell into step beside Ryan as they moved toward the acting studio. “How’d you know I took a babysitting job?”
“I don’t remember.” Ryan scratched at his forehead. “Didn’t you tell me?”
Penny racked her brain but couldn’t possibly remember when she’d have told Ryan, but he’d obviously found out somehow. “Well, it’s paying the bills, and the kids are cute. What about you? Any new gigs lately?”
Now that Penny had a real man by her side, she felt a bit bad about dropping Ryan so quickly. Her thoughts were much kinder about him than they’d been before. Then again, everything seemed a little brighter now that she had Roman.
“Bit parts here and there, nothing to write home about.” He gave her a faint smile. “Say, I know you’ve been busy these last few weeks, but I was thinking, maybe if you’re available…” Ryan trailed off, his eyes calculating as he looked at Penny.
She returned his gaze with a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” Penny muttered. “I should have told you sooner. I met someone.”
“Ah. It’s serious?”
“It’s getting there. I’d like to see where it goes.”
“Hey, that’s fine. I’m just glad you told me before I made an idiot of myself.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“You warned me.” Ryan touched her shoulder gently. “It’s all good.”
Penny gave a wry smile. “For what it’s worth, I did have fun.”
“Me too.” Ryan returned her smile, added a pinch of lightheartedness to it. “I never told you—I had just gotten out of a relationship when we met. I probably shouldn’t have gotten involved with you so fast, either.”
“Was it serious?”
Ryan shrugged. But the cloud that drifted over his features told Penny everything she needed to know. She felt worse.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, watching her face closely. “Maybe we were just meant to be each other’s rebound.”
“We can still be friends if you’d like.”
“Ah, the old friends line.” Ryan’s voice was softer. He didn’t sound convinced. “Is it him?”
“Who?” As soon as Penny echoed his question, she remembered the morning in her apartment when Ryan had guessed the text message on Penny’s phone had been from another man. She squeezed out a dry smile. “Yeah, it’s him. I’m sorry.”
“I figured.”
Penny hadn’t thought Ryan had paid attention when they talked, but he was turning out to be a lot more perceptive than she’d thought. He paid more attention to Penny than any other boyfriend she’d ever dated. It almost made Penny wonder if she’d made the wrong choice, turning him away in hopes that her complicated relationship with Roman would blossom into something more.
Despite Ryan’s somewhat dull nature, Penny suspected he would be the sort of man to dote on her. Buy her flowers. Hang on to her every word. Love her like she deserved to be loved. So why the hell hadn’t she taken the leap with him? The tiniest pinch of guilt tugged at her as she looked over to where Ryan’s lips were tipped into a frown.
“I’m sorry.” Penny reached out without thinking and gave his hand a squeeze. “I sort of wish things were different.”
“I’m patient.” Ryan squeezed her hand back, his frown turning into a lopsided smile.
Penny laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When you need another rebound, I’m your guy.” Ryan winked. “I’ll be waiting for you, Penny Sands. You’ll come around to me, I’m sure of it.”
Still grinning, Penny gave a shake of her head. “Okay, then. I’ll hold you to that.”
As Ryan walked into the theater, she paused in the lobby. Penny was still smiling when she turned and found her lover—such a romantic, dramatic word—leaning against his office door.
Penny’s thoughts of Ryan extinguished like a wisp of smoke as she looked into Roman’s dark eyes. An intensity burned beneath, and she was reminded of the way he’d looked at her the night of the book launch party.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she stepped across the room. “Why are you looking at me like that when you’ve got students one room over?”
“You’re the only student I care about.” Roman’s eyes flitted toward the entrance to the theater, then back to Penny’s cleavage. “Why don’t you join me inside my office?”
He hooked his finger inside the V-neck of her shirt and helped her along. He slammed the door behind her, flicked the lock shut. With a grasp of his hand, he swung Penny around like a rag doll, pinning her back against the door.
She writhed against him, her feeble, half-hearted protests lost as their lips tangled together. She was powerless against Roman’s sexuality; she craved him, needed him, though she’d had him innumerable times already. He filled some deep, primal void for her, and they both felt it. He would always have his way with her, and there was nothing Penny could do about it. Nothing she wanted to do about it.
“Roman,” she gasped. “What are you thinking? Someone could walk in here any second.”
“Let them,” he growled against her neck.
“What’s gotten into you?” Penny threw her head back, then locked one leg around Roman’s waist and dragged him toward her. “I’m not complaining, but…”
“Good.”
Penny raised her other leg with the help of Roman’s sturdy arms. She curled around him as he released himself from his jeans and let his pants drop to his knees. Then he moved his fingers under Penny’s skirt, his eyes darkening when he felt the barely-there thong.
She groaned when his fingers touched her most sensitive spot. “I don’t… I can’t…”
Roman pressed into her with his full force, sending Penny’s breath hissing out as his lips glanced across her neck. Her fingernails dug into his back, surely leaving marks. Her eyes snapped shut, her mind splintering into fractures of color and light and stars.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Immediately, Penny felt her face go flush, both with regret at the interruption and shame at their brazen risk. Roman all but dropped Penny, then leaned forward and pulled up his pants. He zipped and fastened his button with all-too-practiced ease.
“Get dressed,” he said. “I have to take this meeting.”
“But you don’t know who it is,” Penny mumbled dumbly, feeling idiotic as she knelt to retrieve her torn panties. “What if they heard us?”
“Straighten your skirt.”
