is on the wall that both this budding relationship and my ownership of my gym will end awfully. I’m in a funk I don’t know that I’ll ever get out of. She tried to smile. “It was okay.”
Roman’s brows slanted down. “What’s the truth, Aphrodite? Because that’s not it.”
She tensed. “Let it go. Please.” The last thing Allie wanted to do was rip herself open for him. She didn’t do that for anyone. She was the strong one. The one who got through things that would break other people and came out the other side swinging with everything she had. It couldn’t be clearer that this dinner was the end. Roman wanted things she couldn’t give him—and she wasn’t talking about her gym and the shelter. He wanted parts of her.
No way.
She gritted her teeth and resolved to get to the end of this date so she could secure Roman’s promise to leave her business the hell alone. Then she’d walk. Better to end things here and now instead of letting them drag on and enact any one of the horrible scenarios she’d tortured herself with earlier.
The waitress appeared to take their drink order, and Allie was pathetically grateful for the distraction. She ordered a white wine and Roman had whiskey. Then the woman was gone and there was nothing to stand between them. She took a steadying breath. “I’m ready for your pitch.”
ROMAN STARED AT Allie across the table from him, feeling like he was on a boat headed for a storm, watching the receding shore of paradise and knowing he’d never see it again. Regardless of what she’d told him when she’d agreed to this date, it was clear she’d already made up her mind about both his proposal and him. It made him want to shake her, to force her to see that good things were within reach if she’d just lower the barriers the slightest bit.
If she’d let him in.
He sat back. Might as well get this over with, because he could already see that she wouldn’t let him get anywhere near anything personal until they’d both fulfilled their part of the bargain connected to her beloved gym. “I don’t have to tell you about the stats of women who feel harassed in their gyms, let alone their daily lives. With Transcend you’ve created a unique hook that my investor thinks will go over well as a small franchise. Something exclusive to a handful of big cities at first—LA, San Antonio, Seattle, Atlanta, Chicago. Boutique gyms are in right now, but this has the potential to last longer than the fad does, especially if there’s some kind of health plan and smoothie bar that goes hand in hand with it.”
“That’s not what Transcend is about.”
“That’s exactly what Transcend is about. You are a bastion of safety for women. They flock to that gym because it’s one of the few places they can let their guard down a little. You are the reason they feel safe, and the little community you’ve created.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. “Don’t women outside this city deserve that feeling, too?”
She met his gaze directly. “There are other women-only gyms out there. Mine is far from unique.”
“But yours is the only one connected with a shelter for battered women.” This was it. He’d lose her or have her based on this last part. “My investor is interested in continuing and expanding the work you do with the shelter.” The hope in her eyes killed him, so he spoke quickly. “With the caveat that you sign over the nonprofit entirely.”
“What?”
No use pussyfooting around it. “It’s not your passion. The brainchild was all yours, but the delivery has been lackluster at best. You help those women, and that is your passion, combined with the gym. But a successful nonprofit requires shmoozing and networking, and that’s a full-time job—a job it couldn’t be clearer you are not interested in. You haven’t done much with it up to this point.”
“That’s not fair. I—”
He held up a hand. “That wasn’t a criticism. You’re running two full-time businesses by yourself. It’s natural that things have fallen through the cracks as a result. My point—my investor’s point—is that if you delegate and hand off a few things, the whole operation could expand and run smoother as a result.”
Allie sat back, the golden tone of her skin going pale with worry. “Even if I was interested in signing away everything I’ve worked for, what guarantee would I have that this investor of yours wouldn’t turn around and do exactly the opposite of what they’re proposing now?”
“It’s something that could be stipulated in the contract.” He found himself holding his breath while she seemed to think it over.
But she shook her head. “No. I can’t risk it. Those women depend on me to keep them safe, and I don’t know a single damn thing about this investor of yours. I’ve seen how flimsy paperwork can be when it comes to protection—might often makes right, and your investor has all of it.”
She was technically right—even with the protections written into the contract, there were limits to what Allie could demand—but Roman knew this investor and he knew that the offer was legit. He wouldn’t have fielded it otherwise. “Trust me. I wouldn’t have brought this to you, especially after the last week, if I didn’t think it would honor what’s important to you.”
“You keep saying that—to trust you. You haven’t done a single thing to earn this level of trust.”
And fuck, that stung. He’d shared things with her last week that he didn’t talk about with anyone. Even though Allie was still guarded, he’d thought she’d shared shit with him, too. He wasn’t a sappy romantic, but that meant something.
Or at least, he’d thought it had.
Roman forced the tension from his shoulders. “I have only your best—”
“No.”
He waited for some kind of explanation, something he could work with, some sign that she wasn’t just shutting him out without explanation. None came. With a slow sinking in his stomach, he sat back. “And if I ask you on another date—if I want this to go somewhere—am I going to get the same answer?”
Allie fiddled with her fork and then set it aside. “I’m sorry, Roman, but I just don’t see how this could possibly work out. We’re too different.”
A nice pat explanation—and it was bullshit. “How are we supposed to give this a shot if you won’t talk to me? If you never talk to me. You came to dinner tonight with your responses already planned out. It didn’t matter what I said, because you were always going to tell me no to investing in the gym, and no to us dating.”
She flinched. “I’m saying no to your investor because I don’t trust their intentions. And there is no us. I had a wonderful time with you on West Island, but that wasn’t reality. This?” She motioned between them. “This is reality. You in your expensive suit and me in my secondhand dress. I do whatever I can to help people, and you hurt them for your job. We’re just too different.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Frustration grabbed him by the throat. She was determined to see the worst in his choice of career, no matter what evidence he provided to the contrary. It didn’t matter if
