How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire

CHAPTER 6

Shanna had no doubt Roman ruled his house and corporation with well-assured ease. His dark clothing should have looked drab compared to the colorful kilts of the security team, but it only served to make him look more dangerous. More aloof. More bad-boy, mouth-watering sexy.

She watched as he nodded at Connor, then focused his golden-brown eyes on her. Once again, she felt the power of his gaze, as if it could imprison her and force the rest of the world beyond her reach. She broke the connection and shifted in her chair to gaze at her empty plate. She wouldn't let him affect her. Liar. Her heart was pounding. A wave of goose bumps was creeping up her arms.

He affected her whether she liked it or not.

"Did you get enough to eat?" his low voice rumbled toward her.

She nodded, refusing to look at him.

"Connor, leave a note for the day shift. They need to keep the kitchen stocked with food for Dr…?"

Shanna hesitated, then said, "Whelan." After all, they alleady knew her real first name. And that the Russian mob wanted to kill her. There didn't seem any point in keeping up the pretense of the Jane Wilson identity.

"Dr. Shanna Whelan," he repeated her name as if just saying it would give him control over it. And over her. "Connor, could you wait in my office? Gregori will be back soon, and he'll fill you in on all the details."

"Aye, sir." Connor nodded at Shanna before he left.

She watched the kitchen door swing to and fro. "He seems very nice."

"He is." Roman leaned against the kitchen counter, his arms folded over his broad chest.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Shanna fiddled with her napkin, aware that he was watching her. He had to be one of the most brilliant scientists in the world. She'd loved to see his lab. No, wait. He worked with blood. She shuddered.

"Are you cold?"

"No. I–I want to thank you for saving my life."

"Are you sure? Your position is not quite vertical."

Surprised, she glanced his way. The corner of his mouth was lifted. His eyes were glimmering with humor. The rascal was teasing her about the fuss she'd made earlier. But even a vertical position had proven dangerous with him. Her cheeks grew warm, remembering their near kiss. "Are you hungry?

I could make you a sandwich."

The gleam in his eyes grew more intense. "I'll wait."

"Okay." She rose and took her empty plate and glass to the sink. This might have been a mistake.

Now she was only a few feet away from him. What was it about this guy that made her want to throw herself into his arms? She rinsed out her glass. "I–I know who you are."

He moved back a step. "What do you know?"

"I know you're the owner of Romatech Industries. I know you're the one who invented the formula for synthetic blood. You've saved millions of lives around the world." She turned the water off and gripped the edge of the counter. "I think you're absolutely brilliant."

When he didn't respond, she chanced a look at him. He was staring at her with a stunned expression.

Good God, didn't he know he was brilliant?

Frowning, he turned away. "I'm not what you think."

She smiled. "You mean you're not intelligent? I admit— wanting to sport a wolf tooth in your gorgeous smile is not the brightest idea I've ever heard."

"It's not a wolf tooth."

"It's not a human tooth." She cocked her head, studying him. "Did you really lose a tooth? Or did you just show up like Prince Valiant to rescue me and whisk me away on your noble steed?"

His mouth twitched. "It's been many years since I owned a noble steed."

"And I suppose your armor is a bit rusty?"

"Yes, it is."

She leaned toward him. "But you're still a hero."

His smile, faint as it was, faded away completely. "No, I'm not. I really do need a dentist. See?" He lifted the corner of his mouth with a forefinger.

There was a gap where his right canine should be. "When did you lose it?"

"A few hours ago."

"Then it may not be too late. That is, if you have the real tooth."

"I do. Well, actually, Laszlo has it."

"Oh." She stepped closer and rose up on her toes. "May I?"

"Yes." He lowered his head.

She shifted her gaze from his eyes to his mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest. She touched his cheeks, then lifted her fingertips. "I'm not wearing gloves."

"I don't mind."

Neither do I. Good God, she'd examined a lot of mouths in the last few years, but it had never felt like this. She lightly touched his lips. Wide, sensual lips. "Open."

He did. She slipped a finger inside and examined the gap. "How did you lose it?"

"Aah."

"Sorry." She smiled. "I have a bad habit of asking questions when the patient can't talk." She started to remove her finger, but his lips closed around it. She glanced at his eyes and instantly felt surrounded by their golden intensity. Slowly, she dragged her finger out. Good God. Her knees weakened. She had a vision of herself sliding down his body to collapse on the floor. She would reach up to him and say, "Take me, you fool."

He touched her face. "Do I get a turn?"

"Hmm?" She could hardly hear with her heart pounding in her ears.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. He skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip.

The kitchen door swung open. "I'm back," Gregori announced. He looked them over and grinned.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes. My life." Roman glared at him. "Go to my office. Connor is waiting for you."

"Fine." Gregori headed out the door. "My mom's out here, waiting. And Laszlo's ready."

"I understand." Roman straightened his shoulders and gave Shanna a bland look. "Come."

"Excuse me?" Shanna watched him march out the door. Of all the nerve. So it was back to business, then? He'd opened up a bit, but now, he was back to being the big boss man.

Well, if he thought he could order her around, he was sadly mistaken. She took her time, buttoning her lab coat. Then she grabbed her purse off the table and stalked after him.

He stood at the base of the staircase, talking to an older woman. She wore an expensive gray business suit and sported a purse that was worth some people's monthly salary. Her hair was mostly black, though a silver streak ran from her left temple to disappear into the bun at the nape of her neck. She noted Shanna's approach with a lift of her perfectly arched brows.

Roman turned. "Shanna, this is Gregori's mother and my personal assistant, Radinka Holstein."

"How do you do?" Shanna extended a hand.

Radinka looked her over for a moment. Just when Shanna thought the woman was going to refuse to shake hands, she suddenly smiled and gave Shanna's hand a tight squeeze. "At last, you have come."

Shanna blinked, not sure how to respond.

Radinka's smile widened, and she switched her gaze to Roman, then to Shanna, then back to

Roman. "I'm so happy for you both."

Roman crossed his arms and scowled at the woman.

She touched Shanna on the shoulder. "If there is anything you need, you let me know. I'm either here or at Romatech every night."

"You work at night?" Shanna asked.

"The facility is open 24/7, but I prefer the night shift." Radinka waved a hand in the air, her perfect fingernails painted a glossy, dark red. "The day shift is far too noisy, all those trucks coming and going. You can hardly hear yourself think."

"Oh."

Radinka adjusted her purse in the crook of her elbow and looked at Roman. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"No. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned to go up the stairs. "Come, Shanna."

Sit. Bark. Roll over. She glared at his back.

Radinka chuckled, and even that sounded exotic and foreign. "Do not worry, dear. All will be fine.

We will talk again soon."

"Thanks. It was nice to meet you." Shanna went up a few steps. Where was Roman taking her?

Hopefully, he was just showing her to a guest room. But if Laszlo had his tooth, she should try to implant it as soon as possible. "Roman?" He was too far ahead of her, already out of sight.

At the first landing, between floors, Shanna paused to look down at the beautiful entryway. Radinka was headed for a pair of closed doors on the right of the foyer. Her gray leather pumps clicked on the polished marble floor. She seemed sort of odd, but then Shanna figured everyone in this house was a little on the strange side. Radinka opened the doors, and the faint sound of a television spilled into the entryway.

"Radinka!" a female voice squealed. "Where is ze master? I zought he would be wiz you." As she continued to speak, her French accent became more apparent.

Another accent? Good God, she was trapped inside the International House of Nutcakes.

'Tell him to come," the French accent continued. "We want to play."

Other female voices joined in, all urging Radinka to fetch the master at once. Shanna snorted. The master. Who the hell was that? He sounded like a male Playmate of the Month.

"Hush, Simone." Radinka sounded angry as she entered the room. "He is busy."

"But I came all ze way from Paris—" The plaintive voice was cut off when Radinka shut the doors.

Weird. Which guy were these ladies wanting? One of the Scotsmen? Yum. She wouldn't mind a peek under a kilt herself.

"Are you coming?" Roman stood on the second floor, glowering down at her.

"Yes." She ascended the stairs, taking her time. "You know, I really appreciate all you've done to ensure my safety."

His frown cleared. "You are welcome."

"So I hope you won't mind that I have a few concerns about your security team."

His brows lifted. He glanced behind him, then gazed at her calmly. "They are the finest security force in the world."

"Well, maybe so, but—" Shanna reached the second floor and there, on the landing behind Roman, was another kilted Highlander.

The Scotsman folded his brawny arms across his broad chest and regarded her sternly. Behind him, on the wall, a series of oil paintings hung, all portraits of richly dressed people who appeared to be glaring at her.

"Would you care to elaborate?" Roman asked quietly, a glint of amusement in his golden-brown eyes.

Damn him. "Well." Shanna cleared her throat. It was a good thing she was a dentist. Every now and then, she had to extract her foot from her mouth. "I must admit that the Scotsmen are all extremely handsome men. Any woman would think so." She noted the Highlander's face softening a bit.

"They're very sharp dressers. Gorgeous legs. And I just adore the way they talk."

Now the Scotsman was starting to smile. "Good save, lass."

"Thank you." She smiled back.

Roman, however, was frowning once again. "Since you obviously consider the guards to be perfect specimens of manhood, then what, pray tell, is your objection?"

Shanna leaned toward him. "It's the weapons. All they have is a little sword at their waist—"

"A Highland dirk," Roman interrupted.

"Yeah, that, and a knife in their sock."

"The sgian dubh," he interrupted once again.

"Whatever." She glared at him. "I mean, look at that little knife. It's made of wood! We're talking pre-Bronze Age here, and the Russians have freaking machine guns! Need I elaborate?"

The Scotsman chuckled. "Ye have a clever one there, sir. Shall I give her a wee demonstration?"

Roman sighed. "Fine."

The Scotsman instantly spun about, opening a portrait on the wall to disclose a hidden compartment, while he kept turning till he was facing Shanna once again. It all happened so fast, she barely had time to admire the swirl of his kilt when she realized he was now pointing a machine gun at her.

"Wow," she breathed.

The Scotsman put the weapon back and shut the portrait that was hinged along one side. "Are ye happy now, lass?"

"Oh yeah. You were magnificent."

He grinned. "Anytime."

"There are armaments stashed throughout the house," Roman growled. "When I say you are safe, I mean it. Need I elaborate?"

She pursed her lips. "Nope."

"Then come." He headed up another flight of stairs.

Shanna heaved a sigh. There was no need to be rude. She turned once more to the Scotsman. "I love your plaid. It's different from the others."

"Shanna!" Roman waited on the next landing.

"I'm coming!" She stomped up the steps with the sound of the Scotsman chuckling behind her. Jeez, why was Roman in such a foul mood all of the sudden? "While we're on the subject of security, there's one more problem I'd like to discuss."

He closed his eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. "And what would that be?" He ascended the next flight of steps.

"It's about Ian. He's too young for such dangerous work."

"He's older than he looks."

"He's not a day over sixteen. The boy should be in school."

"I assure you, Ian completed his schooling." Roman reached the third floor and nodded at the kilted guard posted there.

Shanna waved at the guard and wondered if one of the paintings was hiding a thermonuclear device. Somehow she doubted that a house loaded with armaments was all that safe. "The point is, I object to a child being used to guard me."

Roman continued up the next flight of stairs. "Your objection is noted."

Was that it? Objection noted and dismissed? "I'm serious about this. You're the boss here, so I'm sure you can do something about it."

Roman halted. "How did you find out I'm the owner of Romatech?"

"I guessed it, but Connor confirmed it."

Roman sighed, then resumed his climb up the stairs. "I need to have a little talk with Connor."

Shanna followed him. "And if you won't do anything about Ian, I'll have to talk to his boss, Angus Mac Kay."

"What?" Roman halted once again. He glanced back at her, his eyes wide with shock. "How did you hear about him?"

"Connor told me he was the owner of MacKay Security and Investigation."

"God's blood," Roman whispered. "I need to have a long talk with Connor." He trudged up more steps to the fourth floor.

"Which floor are we going to?"

"The fifth."

Shanna kept climbing. "What's on the fifth floor?"

"My private rooms."

Her heart skipped a beat. Oh, Lordy. She reached the fourth floor and stopped to catch her breath. A kilted guard stood in the shadows. "Where are the guest rooms?"

"Yours will be on the fourth floor. I'll take you there later." He continued up the stairs. "Come."

"Why are we going to your office?"

"We need to discuss something important."

"We can't discuss it now?"

"No."

What a stubborn man. With a sigh, she tried to think of something he would discuss. "Have you ever considered installing an elevator?"

"No."

She tried another topic. "Where is Radinka from?"

"I believe it is called the Czech Republic now."

"What did she mean—'at last, you have come. " Shanna started up the last flight of stairs.

Roman shrugged. "Radinka believes she has psychic powers."

"Really? Do you think she does?"

He reached the top of the stairs. "I don't care what she believes as long as she does her job."

"Right." The man had obviously flunked sensitivity training. "So you trust her with your work, but you don't believe her when she says she's psychic."

He frowned. "Some of her predictions are wrong."

"How do you know?" Shanna hefted herself up the last step.

His frown deepened. "She has predicted that I will find great joy in my life."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Do I look particularly joyful?"

"No." What an exasperating man! "So you're making yourself miserable just to prove her wrong?"

His eyes flashed. "I am not. I was miserable for years before I met Radinka. She has nothing to do with it."

"Well, hurray for you. You've made a lifelong commitment to misery."

"I have not."

"Have too."

He crossed his arms. "This is childish."

She crossed hers. "Is not." She bit her lip to stop from laughing. It was just too much fun to goad this man.

He eyed her carefully, then the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're trying to torment me, aren't you?"

"You like misery, don't you?"

He laughed. "How do you do this to me?"

"Make you laugh?" She grinned. "Is it a new experience for you?"

"No, but I've been out of practice." He regarded her with wonder. "You do realize how close you came to being killed tonight?"

"Yeah, I do. Life can really stink sometimes. You can either laugh about it or cry, and sometimes I'd just rather laugh." She'd cried enough already. "Besides, I was very lucky tonight. Just when I needed one, I found a guardian angel."

His body stiffened. "Do not think that of me. I am far from… I am hopeless."

Remorse simmered like molten gold in his eyes. "Roman." She touched his face. "There is always hope."

He stepped back. "Not for me."

Shanna waited, hoping he would say something, confide in her just a little, but he remained silent.

She pivoted, looking around her. Another guard stood in a dark corner. There were two doors along the hallway, and between them, a large painting. She moved closer to study the landscape. It portrayed a sunset over a green, hilly land. Down in the valley, a mist hovered among the ruins of stone buildings, fashioned in the Romanesque style.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"It's… it was a monastery in Romania. There is nothing left of it now."

Nothing but memories, Shanna suspected, and not very good ones judging from the harsh expression on Roman's face. Why would he keep a painting of Romania here if it disturbed him?

Oh, right. Duh. The man liked misery. She took a closer look at the painting. Romania? That would explain his slight accent. Perhaps the buildings had been destroyed during World War II or the Soviet occupation, but somehow, the destruction looked much, much older than that. Strange. What could the ruins of an old monastery have to do with Roman?

He moved toward the door on the right. "This is my office." He opened the door and waited for her to enter.

A sudden impulse streaked through her, urging her to bolt down the stairs. Why? The man had saved her life tonight. Why would he harm her now? Besides, she still had her Beretta. She removed her purse from her shoulder and held it against her chest. Damn, after all she'd been through the last few months, she was incapable of completely trusting another person.

And that was the worst part of all. She would have to be a loner for the rest of her life. All she had ever wanted was a normal life—a husband, children, good job, a nice house in a nice neighborhood, maybe a white picket fence. Just a normal life, dammit. And it would never happen. The Russians might not have killed her like they did Karen, but they had still managed to steal her life. She squared her shoulders and walked into the large room. She looked around, curious about Roman's taste in furniture, when a movement across the room caught her eye. Out of the shadows emerged two men. Connor and Gregori. She should have felt relieved, but their stern expressions worried her. The room felt suddenly cold. Too cold, with icy air swirling around her head.

With a shiver, she turned toward the door. "Roman?"

He locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket.

She gulped. "What's going on?"

Roman stared at her, his eyes wavering like golden flames. Then he stepped toward her and whispered, "It is time."