ILLICIT DESIRES | 18 +

Chapter 53

ROMAN

I am not A desperate Man.

Yet I am desperate for her attention, her forgiveness — desperate enough to seek advice from Helena, the self-proclaimed relationship guru with her clipboard and counterfeit spectacles.

She took my plea far too seriously. Now she parades around my living room like a psychiatrist, pen poised in her hand, a professional look on her face.

"You look like that teacher from Pornhub," I tell her dryly.

Her expression curdles into mock indignation before she strikes my bicep with the clipboard. I hiss and rub the area where she fucking hit me.

"At least I'm not the desperate one watching porn, numpty," she retorts. "Must be dismal at night, huh?"

"Right, otherwise I wouldn't have stooped to asking you for advice. Give me the deets, Mrs. Amor. What do I have to do to win her back?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "Do you have the flowers?"

I nod and raise the bouquet. Crimson roses — cliché, but she insisted.

She nods and literally ticks it off her clipboard. Her seriousness makes me roll my eyes.

"And the chocolate?" she asks next.

Another nod. "Yes. Big box of pralines."

"Good," she hums and ticks it off her list again.

Then she glances at me over the rim of her fake glasses, lips curling into a grin. "And what will you do when she complains?"

"Agree with her and apologize," I recite the words she imprinted in my head.

"Good," she says, smug, delighted that I listened to her rambling — only for my little flower. "You're well-trained now. Ready to vanquish her heart." She makes a grand gesture with her clipboard, pushing me toward the backyard.

The air feels heavier outside. My hands tighten around the flowers and the chocolate — humble offerings for the woman I once wronged.

She sits by the pool, her dress gathered around her knees, feet immersed in the still water. The floating gesture with her feet looks cute, and I barely find anything cute in this fucking world. But everything she does appears cute to me.

I clear my throat gently.

"Roman," she says, turning, her eyes wide and wary.

"I want to apologize," I begin. "For being selfish... for fucking you without a rubber. It wasn't right. I fucked up. I acted on desire. Can you forgive me?"

Her gaze flicks to the roses, then the chocolate. A flicker of amusement dances across her lips. "You bought me flowers and chocolate?"

Her eyes shimmer.

"I hope you like them," I murmur, subdued.

"No one ever bought me flowers or chocolate," she says, so small and almost fragile that I feel the urge to protect her from the fucking world. "Thank you."

"Am I forgiven?" I tilt my head, trying to read her face.

"I forgive you," she whispers after a pause. Then, hesitantly, "And I'm sorry too. For trying to hide my pregnancy. It wasn't right of me either."

"I can't be mad at you," I say softly. "I love you too much for that. Even if you hate me."

Her lips twitch, her eyes moist. "You really love me?"

"More than my life," I tell her. I take her hand and press a kiss upon it, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. Her blush creeps up at my gesture.

"I don't hate you, Roman," she murmurs. "I've never hated you. I was just scared to get hurt again, as you hurt me once."