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“Hey, wha—” Gerri froze in the doorway.
“Oh fuck, I thought—I thought you were, you know, not coming back until this weekend,” Roman said.
Gerri turned her back to him and brought her hand up to her forehead. To think she left Vienna early for him, only to come back to find… this. She bit her lip and took a deep breath. This has always been her boundary: never in the office.
“Excuse me,” Yvonne said quietly.
Gerri stepped to the side to let her pass by. Yvonne. Her own assistant.
“Hey,” he said. He reached for her shoulder and she flinched. “Look, I can explain.”
She took a few steps across the hall and leaned against the wall. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t think an explanation is necessary. It’s all quite obvious.”
“She didn’t blow me, if that’s what you think.”
Gerri’s eyes shot up, red and rimmed with tears. “If you think that’s what I care about most—” She took a deep breath. “Rome, I can’t—”
“Ger, I’m sorry that you saw that. I didn’t know you’d be back so soon and—”
“STOP. Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t say it.”
“She doesn’t mean anything to me!” he quickly said.
“Jesus Christ, Roman!” Gerri brought her hand up to cover her face as she paced back and forth. The image of Yvonne on her knees behind Roman’s desk was burned in her mind.
“I can’t do this,” she finally said. “I’m—I’m done.” Gerri marched towards the elevator and rapidly pressed the button. Roman didn’t come after her. It wouldn’t have changed her mind, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed he gave it all up so easily. Especially after the lengths he’d gone to over the past year.
Once the elevator doors closed, she sank down to her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she felt like she’d rather die than leave the elevator and see anyone else.
The beautiful thing about New York City was the way you could disappear in a crowd of people. You could walk down the street, sobbing your eyes out, stumbling for blocks, and no one bats an eye. Gerri learned that firsthand this evening when she walked the twenty-two blocks from Waystar Royco to her Upper East Side home.
When she turned the corner onto her block, Roman was sitting on her front steps. He hadn’t been looking her way, so she had time to turn around, but there was no use trying to avoid him. They worked together. They couldn’t avoid each other.
She sat several feet from him and didn’t make eye contact.
“I fucked up, royally.”
“That you did.”
“Is there any possibility—”
Gerri turned to look at him. “Possibility that what? That I’d be interested in a threesome? That I’d shrug it off? No.”
“Ger—”
“You’ve betrayed me, Roman,” she said as she stood and walked into her home, slamming the door behind her.
The next few weeks were painful. Seeing him, wanting him, and remembering why she couldn’t have him now, it was nearly unbearable. And admittedly it was probably just as—if not more—painful for him. She was used to being on her own, sucking it up, and focusing on work, but Roman was not. Just when she started to pity him, she remembered that he got himself into this mess.
Mess. Exactly what she told him she didn’t do.
“Gerri, come, sit,” Logan said one afternoon in his office.
“What can I do for you?”
“I want to talk about Romulus.”
She tried to act casual despite being caught off guard. “Oh, okay. Did he not show up at the meeting with Karl’s guys?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “I think he’s lost interest in the business.”
“Oh. So, what exactly do you need from me?”
“Talk to him, would ya? He listens to you a hell of a lot more than me. If COO isn’t for him, we can put him back on the studios, or parks—whatever he wants.”
“Logan, I really think this conversation would be better coming from you,” Gerri said.
“Feel him out, let me know where his head’s at.”
“Now is quite a busy time of year. We have the Las Vegas trade show, then I’ll be in Chicago for the weekend for the Global Media M&A conference.”
“Take Romulus with you to Chicago.”
“What?”
“To the conference. It’ll be good for him.”
“It’s a legal conference. He’s not an attorney.”
Logan rolled his eyes and gave her that I’m-not-stupid look. “They let C-suites into those all the time. Let him network a little. Pick his brain.”
Gerri pursed her lips and nodded, knowing that Logan’s mind was already made up and there would be no changing it. “Alright. Anything else?”
“Tell him now and maybe it’ll cheer the poor bastard up. I don’t want him moping around all fucking week.”
She stood and nodded. “Of course,” she said, quickly walking out of his office.
Gerri figured she’d get this over with before she had too much time to think about it, so she walked straight over to Roman’s office. It was the first time she’d been there since that day. She tried to ignore the shiver she felt as she walked through the doorway.
“Hello, Roman.”
He looked up in surprise. “Gerri! Hey!”
She shook her head briskly to avoid any pleasantries. “I just spoke with your father. He’d like you to attend the conference in Chicago on Tuesday.”
“What conference?”
She rolled her eyes. “The legal conference.”
“Oh. Your conference.”
“Yes.”
“Did he say why?”
“Yes, I believe he said something along the lines of, ‘I don’t want him fucking moping around here.’”
“Ouch, Dad.”
“I’m just the messenger. You can make arrangements with my assistant Carlos.”
“Carlos?”
“Yes. Yvonne moved on, unfortunately. It just wasn’t the right fit for me. I thought you would have known,” she added. “Your father may have mentioned that your Uncle Mo had an opportunity for her—? I don’t know what that was all about.”
“Fuck you.”
Gerri gave him a fake smile.
“Fine. I’ll, uh, have my people talk to your—to Carlos,” he said.
She nodded and turned to leave.
“Good chat. Yeah. Thanks. See ya,” he called after her.
Monday evening, Gerri’s car arrived at Teterboro a few minutes before the jet was scheduled to take off. Her driver took care of her luggage while she climbed up the steps to the plane. She walked over to the seat she usually took—captain’s chair on the left side, overlooking the wing—and froze.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, seeing Roman sitting in the back area.
“Uh, the conference?”
“But Carlos—”
“What, you forgot to tell him you never want to see my fucking face again, so he stupidly booked two colleagues on the same flight to the same conference? What an idiot.”
“Roman, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you,” she said. She was wearing lounge pants and her Ugg boots, a loose cashmere turtleneck, and an oversized cardigan sweater. Her hair was curly, piled in a bun on the top of her head. Although he’d seen her looking far less put together than that, she felt a certain vulnerability being dressed down in his presence for a work trip.
“Do you want me to leave? Be honest.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”
They didn’t speak for the next two hours. Roman was listening to something on his phone, while Gerri wore a silk eye mask and tried to get a few hours’ sleep.
In Chicago, they were both staying at the same hotel. It made sense, given that this particular Hyatt was attached to the convention center where the conference took place. They checked in, and while Roman headed to the hotel bar, Gerri went upstairs, directly to her room.
The next morning, they were both exiting their rooms at the same time and nearly bumped into each other in the hall.
“Can I ask you a stupid question?” Roman said.
“Go on.”
“What’s ‘M&A’ mean?”
“Mergers and Acquisitions. Have you not—nevermind. We have to go check in. They usually have programs or something where you can find more information.”
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly.
“What’s your problem?” she asked as they walked into the conference room. “You’re acting as if someone died.” Two registration tables were setup on the left, and along the right there were tables with coffee and pastries.
“I dunno why the fuck I’m here.”
“I thought you talked to your father.”
“I tried. He told me you’d explain.” Roman shrugged and collected his folder and lanyard. “All you told me was something about not being mopey.”
“You’re being awfully mopey right now, Roman.”
“Hey, fuck you.”
Gerri looked up at him over the rim of her glasses.
“Sorry.”
She collected her packet and went to the other side to grab a coffee. She saw a few people she knew and sat with them. Roman sat at a table on the other side, all by himself. If she wasn’t still feeling so angry and hurt, she would have felt sorry for him.
Roman again sat by himself for the two morning panels. At lunch, he was at a table with others, but only because there weren’t enough extra seats for there to be empty tables. The afternoon session was the same.
During the break, she returned to her room to check her emails, and she must have gotten carried away because she almost missed the keynote address. She snuck in the room just as it was starting. Nearly every seat was filled. As she scanned the room, she saw an empty seat in the last row, next to Roman.
“May I?” she whispered, pointing to the seat where his sport coat was folded over.
He nodded and smiled. “I saved it for you.”
“Thanks.”
It was weird, trying to act normal with him. But this is what she had to do now, wasn’t it? This was mess. This was what she tried to avoid, what she failed to avoid, what she had to deal with if she wanted to keep her job.
After the speech—and to be honest, she wasn’t paying all that much attention as she was too distracted by Roman’s fidgeting—there was a dinner served in the ballroom at the hotel. Waystar’s table included the General Counsel and Chief Compliance Officer of PGM, the Deputy General Counsel for the Washington Post, the Executive Vice President and General Counsel of Discovery networks, and the Chief Legal Officer of NBCUniversal. In a way, she was almost relieved to have Roman at the table. Everyone was far more interested in talking to a Roy about Waystar than her. And Roman was doing exactly what Logan wanted: networking. And Roman was certainly entertaining enough.
They had a few drinks in the hotel lounge after dinner, and while some from the group wanted to head to another bar down the street, Gerri opted to stay in. To her surprise, Roman did, too.
“You could have gone,” she said as they walked to the elevator.
“I was kinda hoping maybe we could talk.”
She sighed. “I was planning a hot shower for my shoulders and upper back.”
He frowned. “My hands are available, in a purely professional capacity. Masseur extraordinaire, at your service,” he offered.
Her shoulders were so tight, she actually considered his offer. Again, it was nothing they hadn’t done before. And now, as long as they both understood the boundaries… She turned to look at him. “Before I take you up on that, what did you want to talk about?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Everything. Nothing.”
She thought about it. She’d had a few glasses of wine, she desperately needed the massage, and if they were going to have that conversation, a hotel room in Chicago with no one else around was probably the best opportunity they’d ever get.
“Give me twenty minutes to shower, then you can come by.”
He smiled and nodded, pulling out the keycard for his own room. “See ya.”
Gerri knew this was dangerous. She still loved him, still wanted him. But she was also still very angry with him. And hurt.
After her shower, she put on her pajama pants, a soft cotton camisole, and her button-down pajama top, which she left unbuttoned. If he followed through on his offer to massage her shoulders, it would be easier this way.
He knocked on the door, and she quickly let him in. He brought a bottle of scotch, a Lagavulin 16 year, which he knew was her favorite. The hotel room certainly didn’t come stocked with that. She grabbed two glasses from the wet bar and put two ice cubes in his glass.
She exhaled slowly after taking that first taste. It’d been a while since she indulged, mostly because it reminded her of him. “I appreciate you remembering this,” she said, holding her glass up to him.
“Yeah, of course. It’s growing on me, too.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks, both deep in thought.
“So, did that shower help your back? Still want these?” He held out his hands and wiggled his fingers.
“You seriously wouldn’t mind?”
“Not a bit. C’mon, turn around,” he said.
Gerri turned to face the arm of the couch and leaned forward, resting her head on her arms. Roman moved closer and gently smoothed his fingers over her upper back.
“Ok if I pull this down?”
She nodded, and he pushed her pajama top down. When his hands reached a particularly tight spot, she groaned audibly.
“Did that hurt?”
“It’s okay. That’s where it’s sore.”
He kept massaging her shoulders, neck, and upper back for what felt like hours. She could tell his hands were getting tired, but she couldn’t bring herself to put an end to it. This was what she craved the past few weeks, and now, here… Finally, she sat upright and rolled her neck, shaking his hands off her shoulder. She took another sip of her drink and sighed. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“You wanted to talk?”
“I’d like to try and apologize, if you’ll let me?”
Gerri brought her glass up to her lips and nodded.
“Okay, so I want to start by saying I recognize that I was wrong, that I hurt you, that I broke your trust, that I probably embarrassed you, and that I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Fuck, I’m not expecting that at all. But I do owe you an apology—and maybe an explanation.”
“Explanation? It seemed pretty obvious to me.”
“She’s been obsessed with me since she figured out you and I were together. Whenever you were out of town, she’d like offer to assist me. I blew it off. I remember how relieved you were when you realized she was actually a competent legal secretary, too.”
“Go on.”
“She literally threw herself at my feet and I was like, ‘whoa! what the fuck are you doing!?’ and she just stayed there and like unbuttoned her blouse.”
Gerri drained the rest of her glass. She hadn’t realized Yvonne’s blouse was unbuttoned, too.
“And then you walked in. That’s it,” he said.
“So you never told her to stop? That you weren’t interested? That you were already in a relationship?”
“I was really fucking caught off guard!” He stood and grabbed the bottle, pouring them each more scotch. “Of course I wasn’t interested! And I would have immediately told her to get the fuck away from me if you hadn’t showed up. And then I would have called Melanie whats-her-face in HR and then let you know that I had to get rid of the assistant you liked.” He sighed and sat next to her. “So, I know I fucked up. I know I could have handled it differently. I didn’t help the situation by getting defensive and the way I reacted.”
“I appreciate that, Roman. Some unexpected maturity from you.”
He twisted his lips. “Is that a dig?”
Gerri smirked. “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I deserve that. I know you probably haven’t been paying attention, but I’ve been pretty fucking miserable since then. You were—you are—the best thing in my life, the only thing I look forward to. And then you were gone, like that.”
Gerri fought the urge to admit she felt similarly.
“It fucking sucks. And then I still see you at work, looking fucking gorgeous like this and being a boss and shit. Okay,” he said. “I know you don’t want to hear this. How have you been? If you don’t mind me asking, that is?”
She studied him carefully. Some people wore their hearts on their sleeve, but Roman, his was written all over his face. She could tell he was being genuine, showing genuine care and concern, and again, there was that maturity. A self-awareness he didn’t often reveal. “It’s been—different. Hard. Lonely. A lot of anger.”
“I deserve that.”
“Why Yvonne?”
“You tell me. She was your assistant, and she like didn’t even know who I was until you somehow told her—”
“Oh, so this is my fault, Rome? I take back what I said about your maturity.”
“Come on. Nothing happened. Would it have been any different if you walked in on Ken’s assistant, Jess, on her knees, or Tom’s assistant, whatever-his-name-is?”
“Micah.”
“Yeah. Would it have changed things?”
She thought about that. He had a very good point. The only reason she was more upset about Yvonne was that it created some additional mess for her. She’d lost Gerri’s trust, and Gerri had to replace her. At least if it was Jess or Micah, she’d have been able to avoid interactions much more cleanly. “I guess it wouldn’t really have mattered.”
“Can I say one more thing? You’re going to think it’s an excuse, and I know it’s not, but it might help you be a tiny bit of a fraction less mad at me.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“While you were gone this last time, she was flirting with me and I just walked away, but later, Frank and Karl were making fun of me and saying that I was ignoring her advances only because my fucking dick doesn’t work.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Ask either of them.”
She shrugged. “You’re right. It’s not an excuse, but it does make me a tiny bit less angry at you. Why do you always feel the need to prove yourself to them? We both know what they were saying was factually inaccurate, I could have told them that.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t want anyone to know about us, so I couldn’t exactly tell them about how many times my dick worked perfectly fine for you!”
She squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn’t thought about that, about how the boundaries she imposed would impact him. No one would believe Roman was in a happy relationship unless they saw it with their own eyes. Gerri, on the other hand, was able to freely talk about the mystery man she was seeing who she would never let anyone at work meet. “You’re right. I’m sorry that I never considered that until now.”
“Ger?”
“Hmm?”
“I miss you, a whole fucking lot.”
“Rome, don’t do this to me.”
“Maybe we can try, just tonight? Sleeping together—nothing more, nothing less. No one will ever know, and if it’s not right, we can go back to the way things were yesterday.”
She was tempted to accept his offer, but she didn’t trust herself. This was a four-day conference. “No.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is that a ‘maybe’ I’m hearing?”
“You should probably go now,” Gerri said.
He agreed, and as he was leaving, he turned around to look at her. “For what it’s worth, you’re looking more beautiful than ever, Ger.”
“Thank you. Night, Rome.”
“Night, Ger.”
The next morning when Gerri woke, her bed felt cold. She reached for her phone and sent a quick message to Rome: i miss you.
About ninety seconds later, there was a knock at her door and she had to chuckle. She got up to open the door for him, but was surprised to find the hotel manager and a Chicago police officer there.
“May I help you?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Kellman, but there’s been an incident in another guest room in this area, and the officials are requiring we clear the rooms. We’ve entirely comped your stay and have moved you up to a suite,” the manager said, handing her a new keycard with the room number written on the envelope.
“Ma’am,” the officer said, “we need the area clear in the next twenty minutes. Will that be a problem?”
“No, no,” she said, taking the key. “Wait, what room?”
“I’m sorry, we cannot share that at this time.”
Gerri saw someone walk down the hallway wearing a jacket that said “Coroner” on the back, and her heart plummeted. She quickly closed the door and changed into her clothes for the day while she tried calling Rome’s phone.
“Damnit! Pickup, you asshole!” she muttered as she threw her things into her suitcase haphazardly. She couldn’t remember what room number Roman was staying in, but she tried to ignore that sinking feeling in her gut.
Once she had her things somewhat packed, she did another scan of the room, then went down the hall to the elevator to be taken to her new room. Still, she called and texted Roman, but received no answer.
In her new suite, she finished getting ready and headed down to the ballroom for the first panel of the day. She still hadn’t heard from Roman. It was bothering her so much, she asked Carlos to find out his new room number. Although, when Carlos reported back that the hotel said, “we do not have that information,” Gerri began to panic.
She called Shiv and Ken, but they hadn’t heard from Roman. She called Karolina, Frank, Karl, Logan, and even Caroline, but no one had heard from him. She called and texted during the panels, and after the last panel of the morning, she skipped the luncheon and networking event and snuck off for the lobby to call a friend of hers who worked for the FBI’s Chicago office.
“Jen, can you help me out with something? I need to know if the person who died in the Hyatt this morning was… Roman Roy.”
“Gerri, you know I’m in the antitrust division, right? I have nothing to do with homicide or anything like that.”
“Please—you have to know someone on CPD or the DA’s office. My colleague was here with me, and now we cannot track him down. He’s not answering his phone. No one knows where he’s at. We were relocated at the hotel because it happened on our floor. The Coroner was involved, but I don’t know if it was natural or suspicious or what. Please, I’m begging you.”
“Okay, give me fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you. I owe you, Jen.”
Gerri tried texting him a few more times, but he didn’t answer or even read her messages. She stared at the phone, until finally, Jen called her back.
“Yes?” she answered.
“It wasn’t him.”
“Oh thank god,” she sighed.
“I can’t share anything else, but I know who it was and it was definitely not the son of your employer, whose life you seem awfully concerned about.”
She cringed at that description, however accurate. “Well, as you said, he is the son of my employer and in line for CEO of the company that I am responsible for.” She sighed. “Jen, I’m sorry. It’s been a chaotic morning. Thank you for looking into that. I really appreciate it.” At least she knew it was likely he was still alive somewhere.
She called him over and over and over again. “Fucking answer your phone!” she muttered.
“Why the fuck aren’t you at the networking thingy?” Roman asked, sitting next to her.
She turned and threw her arms around him, knocking his coffee from his hand in the process. “Where the fuck have you been?!”
“Whoa, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?!”
She pulled back and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. “You fucking asshole,” she said, pounding gently on his chest.
“What did I do this time?”
“Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your fucking phone?”
“After I left, I went out for a drink with the twinks from Yahoo! and then they wouldn’t let us back into our rooms when we got back. So we took our stuff and got a room at the St. Regis, where I must have left my phone.”
She sighed and put her head in her hands. “I was so fucking scared.”
“Why?!”
“Because someone died and I thought it was you!” she cried.
“Oh fuck, Ger, I’m sorry,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I’m here. I’m not dead. I’m just in a way better hotel.”
“I’m not even remotely ready for joking.”
“Do you wanna get out of here?”
She looked up at him. “How so?”
“Get your stuff, I’ll get another suite at the St. Regis.”
Gerri thought about that and couldn’t resist the sigh that escaped her lips.
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Come on.” He followed her upstairs to her new room, where she hadn’t even unpacked.
“I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“Ger, come on. You were losing your mind earlier when you thought I was dead. You don’t actually care about this conference. I’m sure you’ve handled more—and more complicated—M&A deals than any of these idiots.”
“That much is true.” She pressed her head against the closed door. “Yes, fine, take me away from here.”
He smiled and tapped on his phone a few times. “Car is ready downstairs.”
They went down to the lobby in silence, and when they reached the car, the driver loaded her things in the back while Roman held the door open for her.
“You’re coming, right?” she asked, panicked.
“Move over. You think I’ll send you away on your own after your little meltdown at being away from me for a few hours?”
“I need a drink, and then some sleep,” she admitted, leaning back against the headrest. “Worrying about you is fucking exhausting.”
He put his hand on her knee. “I’m not leaving you alone for another second if I have anything to say about it.”
“Good god.”
At the St. Regis, Roman led Gerri up to his suite, which was a large suite with two bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus a living room and dining room.
“Isn’t this better than the other place?” he asked.
Gerri was already at the minibar, pouring two bottles of gin into a glass and throwing it back. She took off her suit jacket and tossed it on the chair, then toed off her heels, untucked her blouse, and partly unzipped her skirt before climbing onto the bed and collapsing against the pillows.
Roman took a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the nightstand for her.
As he passed by, she whined and reached her arm out. “Aren’t you joining?”
“I wasn’t about to presume anything,” he said as he kicked off his shoes. “I mean, given that my attempt was rebuked last night.”
“Last night I didn’t think you were dead,” she said, turning to face him. “This is different.”
Roman joined her in bed and took her in his arms, as he’d done so many times before. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she snuggled against him. Eventually, he pulled back and gazed into her watery eyes. “Gerri, can I kiss you?” he asked.
“Is that necessary?” she asked.
“It’s not necessary, I just really fucking want to taste you. Your lips.”
She inhaled sharply.
“Come on, I almost died this morning,” he said, turning out his lip in a pout.
“Rome, I—”
He pulled her close, crushing his lips against hers.
Gerri’s hands reached up to stroke his face, his cheekbones, the outline of his jaw. “Rome, what are you doing to me?” she whined.
“Loving you—if you’ll let me,” he clarified.
“Yes,” she said, kissing him back. “Yes, I will.”
Some time later, they were sitting in bed, their clothes long discarded. Roman flicked through news channels on the television, while Gerri answered emails from her phone.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked.
“For?” she said, absentmindedly.
“Um, you know what for, Ger.” He switched the television off, and she turned to face him, looking over the rim of her glasses. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly remembering the reason she pushed him away in the first place.
“Yeah. I know it was fucked up, and I know I could have done better. I should have done better. Please believe me that I would never ever follow through on that.”
“I believe you, Rome. I never really thought—it was just, I was so happy to surprise you and to walk in on that. It’s an image I wish I never had to see.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I love you, Ger. You know that, right? I’ve never stopped.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I know. I never doubted that. I’m sorry, too, for not listening to you when you tried to explain, for putting you through this.”
“It wasn’t just me that went through this, and I sure don’t think I deserve your apology.” He stroked her cheek and her eyelids fluttered closed. “How about we kiss and make up?”
She nodded, meeting his lips and relishing in his taste. “I like that plan very much,” she said against his lips.
“Does this mean we’re off the hook for the rest of the conference?”
Gerri chuckled. “I almost forgot about that. But yeah, I think we’ve showed our faces enough.”
He nuzzled her neck and trailed kisses down her chest.
“Mmm, I think your face is also needed somewhere else—a little lower,” she added.
Rome chuckled against her stomach and trailed kisses farther down, causing her to whimper.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, gasping, “but I think this conference has been rather—ahhh—successful, no?”
“Yup, gotta tell Dad to send us to one of these every week,” he said.
She laughed and shook her head, stretching her arms out and gripping the bedsheets tightly in her fists. “A little more of this and I might just agree to anything you say.”
“Exactly how I like you,” he hummed.
/fin