Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO VOLUNTEERED
“I need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
Sadi Miller whispered the sentence over a sink full of dirty dishes at two in the morning, fully convinced the enormous kitchen of the Rossi estate was empty.
It was not.
Roman Rossi sat at the far end of the marble island, almost completely hidden by darkness.
And unfortunately for Sadi, he had heard every word.
Fourteen hours earlier, she had arrived at the estate wearing her gray housekeeping uniform and comfortable shoes. Now her feet ached, her hands were raw from hot water, and three messages from her mother had somehow managed to hurt worse than everything else combined.
Her younger sister Chloe’s rehearsal dinner was tomorrow.
Derek would be there.
Derek, Sadi’s ex-boyfriend.
Derek, who had left her two years earlier after informing her that he needed a woman who “took better care of herself.”
Three months later, he had become engaged to a Pilates instructor.
Her mother had placed Derek at table four.
Sadi had been assigned table twelve.
Near the kitchen.
“So you don’t feel awkward,” her mother had written.
Sadi understood the translation perfectly.
So you won’t appear in too many photographs.
She stared at her reflection in the dark kitchen window.
Twenty-eight years old.
Curvy.
Tired.
Still somehow capable of becoming sixteen again whenever her family looked at her with that particular combination of concern and disappointment.
“I can’t walk in there alone,” she whispered.
Then came the sentence.
“I just need a boyfriend by tomorrow.”
A low voice answered from behind her.
“What time?”
Sadi nearly dropped the skillet.
Roman Rossi stepped out of the shadows wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt instead of one of the tailored suits he normally wore.
He looked less like Chicago’s most feared crime boss.
Almost human.
Almost.
“Mr. Rossi?”
“What time is the event?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Your mother put you near the kitchen.”
Sadi’s face burned.
“You read my messages?”
“They appeared on your screen.”
“That’s private.”
Roman’s eyebrows rose slightly.
Sadi immediately remembered who she was arguing with.
Men twice her size became nervous when Roman entered a room.
Yet he merely studied her.
“You need a boyfriend,” he said.
“I was talking to myself.”
“I’m aware.”
“And I wasn’t asking you.”
“No.”
Roman stood.
At six-foot-three, he seemed to remove half the oxygen from the kitchen simply by crossing it.
“But I’m offering.”
Sadi laughed because no other reaction made sense.
Roman Rossi did not.
He explained the arrangement with disturbing practicality.
The Moretti family expected him at a meeting tomorrow evening. Trouble was likely. Police attention afterward was almost guaranteed.
However, if Roman spent the evening at a suburban wedding rehearsal surrounded by civilians, cameras, catering staff, and fifty witnesses, he would possess the perfect alibi.
“You want to come to Chloe’s rehearsal dinner?”
“As your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?”
“A date suggests uncertainty. A boyfriend suggests history.”
“You don’t even know my last name.”
“Sadi Miller. Oak Park. Twenty-eight years old. Art history degree. Twelve thousand dollars in student debt. Terrible credit.”
Her mouth opened.
Roman shrugged.
“I investigate everyone who enters my home.”
“That is deeply creepy.”
“That is why I’m alive.”
She should have refused.
Instead, she imagined Derek seeing her walk through the country club doors with Roman Rossi.
Something reckless came alive inside her.
“If you do this, you have to behave.”
Roman stared.
“No guns.”
Another stare.
“No threatening anyone.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you have to pretend you actually like me.”
Roman’s gaze briefly dropped toward her lips.
“I know how to play a part.”
The following afternoon, at exactly 5:43, Sadi stood in the foyer of her apartment wearing an emerald dress she had nearly returned three times.
She had once promised herself she would lose weight before wearing it.
She hadn’t.
Tonight, for the first time, she wondered why she had ever believed the dress required a smaller woman.
It hugged her hips.
Emphasized her waist.
Made her dark hair look almost black.
She was still examining herself when an engine rumbled outside.
A matte-black SUV waited at the curb.
Roman stepped from the driver’s side.
Navy suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
Danger disguised as wealth.
Sadi descended the apartment stairs slowly.
Roman looked up.
Then stopped moving.
His expression did not change.
But the silence did.
Sadi reached the sidewalk.
“Well?”
Roman’s eyes traveled over the emerald dress once before meeting hers again.
“You look beautiful.”
She blinked.
There was no flirtation in his voice.
No exaggerated charm.
He said it like a fact.
“That sounded almost sincere.”
“It was.”
Sadi suddenly forgot how to breathe properly.
Roman opened the passenger door.
She hesitated.
“You’re driving?”
“My security team will follow.”
“Of course they will.”
She climbed inside.
Twenty minutes later, they were heading toward Naperville.
Roman kept one hand on the steering wheel.
“Rules,” he said.
“I already gave you rules.”
“Those were yours. These are mine.”
Sadi turned toward him.
“We have been together for six months.”
“Six?”
“You met me at an art gallery fundraiser.”
She stared.
“I actually studied art history.”
“I know.”
“Right. Creepy background check.”
Roman ignored that.
“I dislike modern sculpture. You became irritated and argued with me for forty minutes.”
“That part is believable.”
“I asked for your number.”
“No.”
Roman glanced at her.
“No?”
“You look like a man who assumes people give him their number.”
His mouth twitched.
It was not quite a smile.
Interesting.
“So I made you work for it,” Sadi continued.
“Apparently.”
“You came back to the gallery three times.”
“That seems excessive.”
“You wanted me badly.”
Roman’s hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
Sadi smiled.
“If we’re lying, Mr. Rossi, we’re going to lie properly.”
“Roman.”
“What?”
“My girlfriend would not call me Mr. Rossi.”
Sadi became very aware of the distance between them.
“Roman.”
His eyes remained on the highway.
“Better.”
When they reached the country club, Sadi’s confidence disappeared.
Luxury cars filled the circular driveway.
Through the windows she could already see relatives she had spent years avoiding.
Then she saw Derek.
Standing near the entrance beside a thin blonde woman in red.
Her chest tightened automatically.
Roman noticed.
“You still love him?”
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
Roman parked.
Sadi stared straight ahead.
“I’m afraid I’ll walk inside and become the woman they think I am.”
Roman turned off the engine.
“What woman is that?”
“The disappointing one.”
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then Roman reached across the console.
His large hand closed gently around hers.
“You work fourteen-hour days without complaining.”
Sadi looked at him.
“You managed my household during a federal raid.”
“That was terrifying.”
“You kept polishing silver.”
“I panic-clean.”
Roman almost smiled again.
“You are not disappointing.”
Something inside her cracked.
Before she could answer, Roman stepped outside and walked around the SUV.
He opened her door.
Sadi placed her hand in his.
As she stood, he pulled her closer.
Too close.
Her palm landed against his chest.
His mouth moved near her ear.
“Remember something.”
“What?”
“Tonight, nobody gets to make you feel small.”
The doors of the country club opened.
Heads began turning.
May you like
Roman placed one hand at the small of Sadi’s back.
And together, they walked inside.
