"I'm not just talking about Alec." Her father inhaled deeply, as if he was afraid he was about to say something she wouldn't want to hear. "I know you love your computers. But take it from someone who learned the pitfalls of obsession the hard way-enjoy your work. Take pride in being the best at what you do. But always remember that in the end, love and family are the only things that really matter."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

There were a million things Suzanne wanted to say to Roman during their drive back to New York City the following day. She wanted to confess it all. Her feelings. Her confusion. The way her father had held up a mirror in front of her last night and made her see the truth that she had never been-and could never become-like her mother. He'd reminded Suzanne that she was strong. Courageous.

She had always been willing to take a risk with her software and her business. Now it was finally time to take an even bigger risk with her heart. But would Roman be willing to take as big a risk with his? Especially given that for all the times he'd come close, he'd always ended up pulling back.

Unfortunately, within minutes of waking up after the three hours of sleep she'd managed to get in, she was pulled into a call with her Information Systems team. Though it was a Sat.u.r.day, they were working to decode a new bug in the MavG1 software. She'd promised the Mavericks they were going to get into beta testing right away and all of them intended to make good on that promise.

Within the hour, she was deep in work mode. Still, when Roman knocked on her bedroom door, her heart leaped. She'd already become addicted to seeing him first thing every morning.

As soon as he opened the door, he stepped inside and noted the two laptops she had open-along with the fact that she was wearing only a sweatshirt over her underwear. The thick duvet she was sitting on cross-legged covered her up pretty well, but she was still aware of how much skin she was showing.

He cleared his throat as he dragged his gaze away from her legs. "Problems?"

She put her call on mute. "There's a bug in the new code, which means I need to get back to the office right away. And I'll need to work in the car, if you don't mind driving." Her voice sounded as breathless as his did rough.

"I'll pack food and coffee for the road. Focus on what you need to do and I'll take care of everything else."

She already knew Roman was someone you wanted with you in a crisis, but the way he quietly and efficiently moved through the bedroom and bathroom packing up her things almost made her want to cry with relief. "Thank you. I owe you big time."

"You don't owe me anything. I'm happy to help anytime you need it." He paused for a beat before adding, "And not because it's my job."

It was the perfect opening for the talk she so badly wanted to have. But her staff was waiting for her to weigh in on how to fix the code.

Reluctantly, she took her phone off mute. "I'm going to need fifteen minutes to get on the road, guys, and then you'll have my full attention again."

But though she managed to say a quick good-bye to her father, the only other person in her family who was awake, and then immediately got back onto the call with her team in the car, only part of her attention was on work.

She couldn't stop thinking about Roman. Couldn't help but be distracted by his nearness, his heat, his wickedly s.e.xy good looks. Couldn't stop wishing he would put his arms around her the way he'd held her last night, when he'd made her feel so safe. So comforted.

Before this morning, she would have been horrified by anything less than one hundred percent focus on her job. But after staying up nearly the entire night mulling over what her father had said, she was no longer sure it was a bad thing.

Was her obsession with computers and code really all that different from her father's obsession with painting her mother?

And could she lose everything that truly mattered because of it?

The irony wasn't lost on her that she was asking herself this question while working in a car going seventy miles an hour on the freeway beside the man with whom she was desperate to have a heart-to-heart.

After five hours of intense work done via phone and computer, she finally pulled out her earbuds, closed her laptop, and dropped her head back against the headrest. "We're pretty sure the problem is fixed, but I should probably go to the office for a little while, just in case." She could sleep for days. And maybe she did fall asleep for a few minutes, because when she opened her eyes again, Roman had already driven past her office building.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. You didn't get enough sleep last night and you've been working nonstop since you woke up." He frowned, and even that was so s.e.xy she thought she might burst from wanting him. "You work too hard."

"Says the man who's outside my door early every morning and doesn't go to bed until I do."

He didn't argue with her. Rather, after a moment of silence, he nodded. "You're right. I need to make some changes too."

As hope swelled within her, she shoved her computer and phone off her lap. She'd given enough attention to those devices today. It was time to focus on the warm and wonderful human being sitting beside her now. Time to finally confess the depths of her feelings for him. But just as she reached for his hand, he swore.

Following the direction of his furious gaze, she realized they were stuck behind a half-dozen fire engines. And those engines were parked in front of her apartment building.

She reached blindly for the door handle so that she could get out and run over to one of the firemen to find out what had happened. Roman must have antic.i.p.ated her reaction, because he reached for her hand and held it tightly.

"Wait. Let me pull over, and then we'll find out what's going on." He waited until she looked into his eyes. "Together."

Together. No word had ever sounded so sweet before.

"Okay." Her voice sounded funny. A little airy and squeaky.

Odds were low that this fire had anything to do with her...but what if it did?

It was that what-if that had her heart pounding too fast.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He lifted his hand from hers to stroke her cheek.

She leaned into his touch. "I know." She took another deep breath, and then she was ready to face what she needed to.

Once they got out of the car and had a better sight line to the action, she easily confirmed that it was, in fact, her apartment that had caught fire. Her windows were open and there was a ladder up to her kitchen window. When Roman reached for her hand again, she gripped it tightly. She couldn't imagine facing this without him.

She stopped the closest firefighter, who happened to be the fire chief. "That's my apartment. What happened?"

The man looked sympathetic. "You're Suzanne Sullivan?" When she nodded, he said, "I've been trying to call you for the past half hour."

"I'm sorry, I was on a conference call." Since she hadn't recognized the number as belonging to any of her family members, she had ignored it, figuring it was probably another junk caller.

"Do you have any pets? Any visitors or roommates?"

"No. Just me. And I've been out of town since Thursday morning. Roman has the apartment next door, and he was with me the whole time."

The fire chief noted their linked hands. "Our investigators are working to figure out where the fire started, and why. I'm afraid we don't have any conclusive evidence yet."

Suzanne always had a solution for any problem that arose, or at the very least, was able to come up with good enough questions to figure out a solution. But all she could do right now was wonder in horror at what could have happened if she and Roman had been home-or if one of her relatives had been staying in her apartment while she was gone. She couldn't stand the thought that anyone else might have ended up hurt because someone wanted to hurt her.

As if he could read her mind and knew that her mouth had gone dry and her brain had seized up, Roman drew her into the shelter of his body. "When will Suzanne be able to get back inside?"

"Not tonight, that's for sure. We're doing our best to save your things, but it looks like the fire may have been smoking for a while before it lit. Fortunately, a neighbor downstairs smelled smoke and called 911." She could easily read the concern in the man's eyes. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Ms. Sullivan. Your entire floor is uninhabitable at present due to the smoke damage and ongoing investigation. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

"She'll be staying with me," Roman answered before she could reply that she had three brothers nearby. Roman also gave the fire chief both his cell and landline numbers. "Please also call me with any updates, in case Suzanne is unavailable."

"Is that all right with you, Ms. Sullivan?"

"Yes." It was more than all right. "Roman will look out for me."

After the fire chief shook their hands, then moved away to talk with one of his crew, she looked up again at her windows. A shiver ran through her despite the warm city weather.

"I'll get over losing my clothes and furniture. Junk calls and attacks to my corporate servers are one thing, but if this fire isn't an accident, someone is deliberately trying to destroy the things that are important to me. My father's and brother's paintings. The blanket my Aunt Mary knitted for me. The sculpture my cousin Ryan's wife, Vicki, made me. The family reunion pictures that always make me smile when I'm sitting at my kitchen counter."

Roman pulled her closer, as if he wished he could use his body to shield her from the sight of the fire trucks and firemen working to put out the fire in her apartment.

"When this just seemed like it was about me and my work, I knew I could take care of myself, take care of my company. But the apartment isn't mine. It's my cousin Ian's. And family and friends often stay with me. What if someone I love had been staying in my apartment while we were gone? What if they'd been hurt because someone has it in for me and they got in the way?" Anger burst through her shock and exhaustion. "If it turns out that this fire wasn't an accident, I'm going to give one hundred percent of my focus to figuring out who's after me and nailing them to the wall. They've gone after the wrong woman."

"Yes," Roman agreed, "they most certainly have."

But even as determination solidified within her, the combined feelings of violation and fear hit her so hard that her legs started to feel shaky and the blood drained out of her face. The next thing she knew, Roman had gently moved them back toward his car and they were headed away from the fire trucks and police vehicles.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.

Roman had never seen Suzanne like this. Despite her fierce words-and his sure knowledge that she would prevail-she was clearly sh.e.l.l-shocked as they drove to his loft. He held her hand the entire time, never wanting to let her go.

He wanted to tear apart whoever was responsible for making her so pale and quiet, wanted to make that person pay for causing Suzanne even one moment of stress. She already had more than enough to deal with between her company, her pro bono work, and her big family. She didn't need anything else to add stress to her life. Especially not a bodyguard who had let himself get too close. Too attached.

He'd been planning to convince her to accept another bodyguard on their drive back, but she'd been working so hard there hadn't been any time to talk. And then when they'd seen the fire trucks outside her apartment, Roman accepted that there was no way he could leave her until they'd neutralized the threat.

He had just gotten her settled on his couch with a large gla.s.s of wine when she said, "Don't tell my brothers or my father what happened yet."

"They need to know."

"Of course they do. I just need a little more time to process things before they come swarming in even more overprotective and domineering than ever. Plus, they'll insist I stay with one of them. I don't want to leave you, Roman. Not tonight."

Though his first instinct had been to call Alec with the news of the fire, Roman understood why Suzanne wanted a night to let what had happened settle. Not only would she be working full time to corral the four Sullivan men if they were here-but there was simply no way Roman was going to let her stay with anyone else tonight. And not only because his loft was as secure as a fortress.

He needed to be able to look at her, needed to be able to touch her, and know that she was safe.

Because she had come to mean everything to him.

"Tomorrow." Though it was against his better judgment, there was no other choice he could make. "We'll tell them tomorrow."

"Thank you for giving me refuge tonight," she said softly.

"No more thank-yous," he said in a gruff voice as he made himself put some distance between them instead of moving closer. "This is what friends do for each other."

The hopeful look on her face at the word friends nearly had him reaching for her. But he knew that if he did, it wouldn't end at a hug. Or even a kiss.

If he pulled her into his arms tonight, he'd never be able to let her go.

A previous client had said he was a superhero. But Roman had never felt superhuman until the moment he had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed to move away from Suzanne and walk into the kitchen.

They hadn't stopped to eat on the drive back and she'd been working too intently to eat any of the snacks he'd packed for her. She needed something to soak up the wine she was already sipping, but he wasn't going to ask her if she was hungry. After the shock she'd just had, she'd probably say no, but if he could get good food in front of her, he'd somehow persuade her to eat it.

Roman quickly sent several text messages to his investigators asking them to dig into the city's underground channels regarding the fire in Suzanne's apartment building, then got out flour and eggs for fresh pasta, tomatoes and herbs for the sauce. When he turned around, he was surprised to find her pulling out a cutting board.

"I've got dinner covered," he said. "Why don't you sit down and try to relax? Maybe even take a nap until the meal is ready."

The stubborn look on her face would have made him smile if he hadn't been so full of fury-and fear-on her behalf. If she'd been asleep in her apartment when that fire had smoked into flames...

No. He couldn't go there. Couldn't even begin to imagine a world without her laughter, her brilliance, her beauty.

"I've always dealt with things head on," she said as she grabbed a tomato and a serrated knife. "But after fighting with my brothers last night on the dock and then finding firefighters at my place today-" She stopped slicing. "I just need a few hours to try to be normal, you know? Make a meal with you. Maybe stream a movie on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. You do have popcorn, right? Or wait-chocolate ice cream would be even better."

He gripped the edge of the counter so tightly to keep from putting his arms around her that he was surprised it didn't crack. "I can get you ice cream and popcorn." He wouldn't leave her side for a second, of course. "A kid around the corner runs errands for me sometimes." Eddie was the fifteen-year-old son of one of the guys the teenage Roman had beaten to a pulp, so badly that he'd lost an eye. Roman had helped out the family any way he could since then, which included keeping an eye on Eddie and making sure the kid stayed out of trouble. "I'll send him a text to let him know we need microwave popcorn-"

"With extra b.u.t.ter."

"How else would you eat it?" He was glad to see her smile again. A little one, but a smile nonetheless. "What kind of ice cream?" he asked.

"As close as he can get to chocolate fudge super chunk."

"I hadn't noticed your sweet tooth."

Her small smile widened. "That's because I wasn't ready to divulge it to you yet."

She was so breathtaking as she stood in his kitchen smiling despite her c.r.a.ppy day that his fingers fumbled on his cell phone screen as he sent the message to Eddie. The kid texted back so quickly Roman didn't even have time to put the phone down.

"He's on it. He said he'll be here with the goods inside of ten minutes."

Looking relieved to know that junk food was on its way, she found his wooden salad bowl, tossed the tomato slices into it, then washed the celery and began to chop it. Not only was this the first time a woman had settled into his kitchen as if it were her own, it was also the only time he'd ever let a woman into his loft, period. Since he never planned on letting women stay, it was easier to keep them out entirely. Food and s.e.x had always happened either out on the town or at their places.

But having Suzanne in his home felt completely right.

The realization made it hard to keep his hands steady while he rolled out the pasta dough.

"Tell me the funniest-or weirdest-thing you've ever had to deal with on the job," she said. Though she was doing her best to hide it, he could tell how shaky she still felt. "I promise the story won't go any further."

Any other client would have been in tears or getting smashed by now. But Suzanne wasn't like anyone else. She was stronger. More resilient. And yet, at the same time, she was also more emotional than anyone he'd ever known. Close enough to breaking down that she was deliberately hunting for something to laugh about instead.

Client privacy was sacrosanct to Roman, but Suzanne would never repeat anything he told her. And she needed to be taken away from everything for a little while.

"Early on, I worked for a prince."