a/n: this fic was inspired by one of my favorite movies of all time pretty woman starring julia roberts and richard gere and also beyonce`'s remix of 'crazy in love' that was used in the 50 shades of gray trailer. neither of those two things belong to me just like nikki bella and roman reigns don't belong to me.

~*~don't you dare fall in love without me~*~

pairing: roman reigns/nikki bella

summary: "baby, i'm gonna be so good to you, you'll never let me go," the smooth pitch of her voice was all sass and seduction, but he didn't get attached to anyone or anything. until her. {roman reigns/nikki bella, pretty woman au}

rating: m

~*~chapter one~*~

Nikki's stomach churned violently as she went through the robotic motions of swiping her signature fire engine red lipstick across her plump lips. She swore she could still feel Heyman's slimy, pudgy fingers sliding down the slope of her neck, his creepy beady eyes dark with lust.

Bile rose in her throat that was quickly tightening like a vice.

"Either way, Miss Bella," There was Heyman's voice in her ear. "I will be seeing the money you owe me for renting the lovely abode you share with Miss Lynn. There's the easy way; getting on your knees here and now or the hard way, trolling Sunset Boulevard and hoping some desperate loser tosses you $500 for a ride."

The urge to pull her hair out by the roots ran strong through her veins, but that wouldn't solve her problems. No one – not even the freakiest of the freaky – would pay to fuck a bald hooker.

"Damn it!" She cursed, flinging the tube of lipstick onto the grungy tile of the apartment's – lovely abode her ass! - bathroom floor.

Just then her phone – an iPhone three and hopelessly out of date, but the one luxury she could afford – began to buzz along to Beyonce`'s "Naughty Girl," which was Cameron's ring tone and she sighed heavily. Sliding her thumb across the green 'connect' button, her anger and frustration cooled immediately when her friend's distressed tone reached her ears.

"Nikki, I am so sorry! I had the rent money for Heyman in my hands and I was halfway inside the building when..." A shaky breath came through the phone and then a hiccup as Cameron's normally chipper tone broke down in to sobs. "Vinnie... He just showed up and pinned me against the wall and he started talking about how the money I was going to give Heyman was his money, that I wouldn't have earned a penny of it without him and he... He..." Now there was only sobbing and Nikki could see the other girl's slender frame shaking violently as her mascara ran down the apples of her caramel cheeks, and once again bile was coating her tongue.

"Stop it," Her voice was warm and tender. "I'm not mad, Cammie, I swear. I can take care of that asshole Heyman and get us the money we need. Just calm down and then get here as soon as you can..."

"You shouldn't have to take care of Heyman! Or get us the money! It's my fault, we're late with the rent! If I had just listened to you when you told me Vinnie was bad news, none of this would have happened. I can turn on the charm, too, Nik. Lemme go at Heyman. I'll have him eating out of the palm of my hand in two seconds."

"No way, am I letting you do that! Heyman's the skeeziest of the skeezes. If you do this for him once, he'll have you on your knees every five seconds cause he has you by the tits. No way, girlie, I got this. Like I said, calm down and then get back here as soon as you can. There's one more pack of Ramen left with your name on it. And Cammie," Her voice wasn't warm and tender any more, it was deadly calm. "You leave Vinnie to me. I'm gonna make sure he never puts his hands on you again."

Hanging up, Nikki picked up the discarded tube of lipstick and returned to looking in the bathroom mirror. She ran her fingers through her luminous chocolate curls, briefly admiring the way they tumbled down her shoulders while thanking God the electricity was still on so she could curl her normally straight locks.

Turning from side to side, she grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting the shirt she wore down the center into a v-neck, exposing more of her ample breasts.

Then she grabbed her bag, briefly checking to make sure everything she needed was inside, and made her way toward Sunset Boulevard.

Roman knew he should've listened to Matt. At least this one time. But he never listened before, so why start now? As the car continued to sputter and stall down Sunset Boulevard, he cursed under his breath while one of his fists pounded at the steering wheel, as if that would solve the sputtering and the stalling.

He could have grabbed the Maserati, his personal favorite from the garage. But noooooooo... There was Daddy's pride and joy, the classic 1965 gun metal grey Lamborghini, just sitting there – shiny and gorgeous – begging to be driven, and really how hard was driving a stick shift, anyway?

He graduated at the top of his class at Harvard Business school and was Magna Cum Laude at Georgia Tech before that. He could drive a fucking car. Driving a car was not rocket science.

Briefly, he eyed, his cell phone laying across the passenger seat, but that only made him pound the steering wheel harder while his other hand tightened around the leather. Calling Matt would only lead to his cocky "i told you so baby brother," which would lead to a lecture from their father and the youngest of the four Reigns children was not in the mood for a lecture.

Gears pushing and grinding against each other made Nikki cringe. She was making her way down Sunset Boulevard, swaying her hips just so, when she saw it... A classic 1960s Lambo, gun metal grey, sputtering and stalling in a most pathetic fashion.

Her stomach dropped to her feet, the car had Sugar Daddy written all over it, and that meant it was time for her to turn on the charm. To arch her back so the girls were on full display. Lean in at the right angle so her lips – plump and red – were right in their line of sight. Get herself breathless and her tone husky. Reach out to run her fingers up and down their arm and then seal the deal.

Cause she was not going without electricity for the third time in four months. Fuck that shit.

As it drove – well, more like churned, honestly – past her, she fought the bile coating her tongue as the window rolled down and slowly {forcefully}, her lips curled sweetly, "Hey, baby," She crooned, sex coating every letter. "You look like you could use some help."

He wasn't the usual type and in another universe, she would have swooned because holy fuck this guy was gorgeous! He had chiseled features, beautiful grey eyes that were a contrast to caramel skin, a neatly trimmed goatee and criminally plush lips.

For once, licking her lips wasn't for show.

And then her stomach dropped as his deep baritone fell off those lips, "Yeah, I was looking for the Beverly Hilton."

Fuck.

Swallowing thickly and without showing any hint of the disappointment that was rolling through her veins, she gave him a real smile and said, "Just keep going down Sunset, then hang a right on Beverly Hills and just stay straight, you can't miss it."

Plush lips quirked slightly while he nodded, "Thank you," and then his large hand gripped the stick shift and instead of roaring to life like the well-oiled machine all Lambos were known for being, there it went sputtering again.

It was too painful for her not to say something. Also, she was never one to hold her tongue, so why should she start now?

"Ugh, seriously," Nikki bit out, rolling her eyes. "You are never gonna make it to The Hilton like that. You'll stall out, like, half way there; if you're lucky enough to even make it that far."

Roman knew she was right, but he wasn't going to let her know that. Arching a pointed brow, he gave her a hard stare as he challenged, "And you can do better?"

A triumphant smirk curled at plump red lips. A cocky tone with a smooth edge poured from those lips, "Move over, pretty boy. Let me show you how it's done."

He couldn't stop the chuckle from rumbling inside his chest. And for the first time, grey eyes left twinkling chocolate to roam over ample curves. Spilling from the v-neck of a tight-fitting t-shirt were generous breasts which lead the way to shapely hips and a stretch of thick but toned thighs that were just barely visible do to vinyl knee high boots that nearly disappeared underneath an indecently short leather skirt.

"Of course," A purr left those lips, drenched in lust as suddenly he felt his chin being lifted so they were eye to eye as she leaned in further. "It's gonna cost ya."

Grey eyes rolled as he scoffed, "Cost me?"

As if she were insulted, her spine stiffened, only pushing those generous breasts further into his line of vision. "What do you think I'm doing out here? Looking for pretty boys in their flashy toys that they can't handle to help? Please. Stay stranded and then beg your rich Daddy or Mommy to send out one of their limos to rescue you. See if I care."

Backing away, his arm shot out and gripped the slender curve of her wrist before she could stomp off. "Wait..." Defeat was evident in that baritone as broad shoulders slumped. If he didn't make it to The Hilton in one piece, he'd never hear the end of it. And the last thing he wanted to deal with was a gloating Matt.

"How much?" He got out through gritted teeth and in an instant she was beaming.

"Looks like you're not just a pretty face! As for how much..." She tapped a manicured finger to her chin, pondering. "250 sounds reasonable to me."

"250?" He scoffed, shaking his head.

"Make it an even three and you've got yourself a deal."

"No thanks. I'll take my chances."

"Asshole." She spat as she turned on her heel to stomp away, not that he heard as he couldn't hear anything beyond the car grinding its gears.

He sighed heavily as he found himself turning over his shoulder to where she had stopped mid-stomp. She was practically glowing as she smirked, and he knew it was time to admit defeat.

"Looks like I just made three hundred dollars, doesn't it, pretty boy?"

"I guess you did, didn't you?"

"I knew you'd see things my way."

Roman felt his strong brows burrowing down as he watched her slide into the driver's seat with ease. With a quick flick of her slender wrist, she had the mirror adjusted to her liking and smoothly pulled away from the curb. She reached out to turn on the radio, elegant fingers drumming on the steering wheel as she sung along to Beyonce` as if the car was hers and not his father's pride and joy.

"You were right; you can do better."

"An ex had a talent for hot wiring cars so I've driven a Lambo before." Nonchalant as if she was telling him the sky was blue as she swerved expertly around a corner and then slid easily into the valet area of the hotel just a few minutes later.

"Here we are." With a heart-stopping grin and then a valet was opening the door for her first and then for him.

"Thank you," Genuine as he reached into his wallet but she waived him off. "Don't sweat it. Consider it a freebie for being so fucking pretty, I might be getting jelly. Later."

There was this innate sexiness about her. If the definition of bombshell came with a picture, she would be plastered right next to the word. Those curves that could only be marked dangerous were playing with his rational that was the only explanation for what he was about to do. That and the reward of seeing the view from the back as she stepped out of the car, her round ass on full display in that obscenely short leather skirt.

He swallowed as he felt heat surge in his veins.

"At least let me buy you a drink."

Nikki was the one swallowing now. She knew she should've just accepted the three hundred and walked away. But she went and got soft and gave him a freebie, and for what? Being so fucking pretty it should be illegal? Cause damn! Of course, in reality, he was so much more than fucking pretty. It was more like heart-stopping i think my ovaries just exploded resuscitate me sexy.

Yum, she thought, on the verge of actually fanning herself as she stole a glance at him once more.

Her tongue slipped from her lips as she took in the impressiveness of his frame. Even underneath the tailored shirt that was tucked into slacks, she could tell his body did not quit. All that was there was muscle. Muscle bulging everywhere. Especially his arms which rippled with it as they lazily crossed over a thick chest.

And then there were his eyes, which were grey. With warm silver swirling around the irises. And, ugh, his mouth... so criminal in its plushness and framed perfectly by the expertly trimmed goatee.

Her thighs clenched and she couldn't blame them.

Just like she couldn't blame herself for following him inside. Even though she would skin Cameron alive if she followed some random inside a hotel without the promise of a payment in Andrew Jacksons or Benjamins up front.

For the first time, ever, probably Nikki Bella found herself feeling self-conscious. She had never been inside the Beverly Hilton before. A swanky hotel filled with celebrities and the uber rich wasn't exactly a place clients frequented. She was so out of place in her low-cut t-shirt with her faux leather skirt and vinyl boots.

She felt her stomach churn and she wanted to run as fast as she could. She could feel the stares of the women in their Jimmy Choos and their Dolce dresses with their Chanel bags. Their noses were in the air and she knew what they were thinking. It was practically written on her forehead.

Whore.

And then there were the lecherous stares of their husbands. Roaming over her every inch. Licking their chops like a lion stalking a gazelle.

She didn't know which made her feel more sick to her stomach.

"And I thought this was a classy establishment," She heard one of the stuck up ice queens say, nose in the air while her husband who was right next to her, couldn't tear his eyes away from her boobs. "Apparently the new ownership will let just anything in. First Kim Kardashian and now street hussies."

She felt the urge to rear back and slap that Betty Draper wannabe, instead she felt a warm hand – large and strong – spanning the entire length of her back and tilting her head upwards grey eyes were staring back at her. Her stomach flip flopped in a way it hadn't since Dean's gritty tone first said her name, but quickly she willed the feeling away.

Feelings like a stomach flip flopping and a heart beating too fast only got you in trouble. And she didn't need trouble. She needed money.

"Give your best regards to your mother and your sisters. Tell them we hope to see them at this years Women in Business conference. And to your father and brother, we say our golf courses are always open. They just have to name their tee time. Please enjoy your stay at the Beverly Hilton, Mr. Reigns."

"Mr. Reigns, huh?" There went the charm, so easily slipping into the skin of the seductress as she twisted, so they were face to face, reaching out with a slim hand to toy with the top buttons of his shirt.

"My Pops and my older brother Matty are Mr. Reigns." He shook his head, stepping into the elevator as it dinged and without question, she followed. "I'm just Roman. Not that anybody listens when I tell them to cool out with that Mr. Reigns junk."

"You only like it when the ladies call you, Mr. Reigns, I bet." Bold and lusty as perfect brows waggled up and down.

It was like being wrapped in velvet as his laughter rumbled low from that thick chest. Goosebumps sprung all over her skin. Yet she was instantly warmed as his grey eyes stared deeply into hers, as if they penetrated her skin, seeing everything underneath. A shudder whipped through her.

And there went that panty melting baritone, "What about you? You've got a name, too. Something pretty to go with your face."

Oh... There go her thighs clenching again. She wanted to say Nicole, something she hadn't been called since she was a little girl, it's like she was desperate to say it. Like there was this need, a hunger inside of her for him to say her name.

But, "Nikki," slipped from her lips and as the elevator dinged, signaling the reach of their destination, plush lips curved and then, in that deep baritone that oozed sex, "There ain't a better view of the city than from this terrace. You'll love it, Nikki."

He said something about a terrace, but all she heard were the five letters that made up her nickname. She was dizzy with want, and fuck, she wouldn't be surprised if her panties were drenched when she finally left. She would've spontaneously combusted if he called her Nicole.

Nikki found that Roman wasn't wrong. She couldn't imagine a better view of LA than the one this terrace created. It was totally cheesy and she'd never do it, but she felt like spinning around and spreading her arms as she screamed, "I'm Queen of the world!" ala` Leonardo DiCaprio's Jack Dawson from Titanic.

The way her chocolate eyes gleamed, twinkling like amber gems, made his stomach twist. Underneath that vixen she portrayed so well was an almost childlike innocence. It only added to her irresistible aura.

Glasses of whiskey clinked and for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from imagining what was underneath the tight-fitting polyester of her t-shirt and the leather of her skirt. Her skin glowed – almond and sunkissed, a combination tanning salons would kill to be able to recreate – and with those wild curls tumbling around slim shoulders and red lips, plump and open, it would be like seeing the art his mother filled their various homes with come to life.

But better.

"Mr. Reigns..." Purring but teasing, shooting straight to his dick, and fuck... He turns away from the glittering city, nearly drowning in those chocolate amber gems and his dick only stiffens more as she asks, "Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Business," Smooth as ever cause he's not going to let her see what she can do to him. "Not that," Frustration slips into his tone as he pulls his hair out of the tie holding it in the tight bun at the nape of his neck. "Matty can't handle this," Fingers glide through the thickness of the black strands, fingers he won't admit he wishes were smooth and elegant with black lacquered nails. "But this business is major, so Pops wanted both of us here to close the deal."

Black velvet slithered through Nikki's mind as she watched Roman release his hair from the tie. She didn't imagine his hair being nearly as long as her own. Biting down on her lip, there was the urge rising inside to reach out and slip her fingers through the silky strands.

And then he said it, "You'd make this business more pleasurable."

Liquid heat poured at the apex of her thighs. Her panties were soaked and her thighs rubbed against each other wantonly.

Briefly, she remembered the feeling of his hand, warm and large spanning the entire width of her back and oh.. Yeah, those were totally her nipples getting hard against the lace of her bra. She could only imagine what those hands were capable of. How easily those arms – large and bulging with impressive muscles – could lift her to where her legs would wind perfectly around the thickness of his trim waist.

And what he could do with that mouth...

Quickly, she was snapped back to reality. She wasn't Baby fooling around with the hot dance instructor at the Catskills. Or Sandy looking for a romp with a Greaser.

She was... she swallowed thickly, remembering that ice queen bitch's words from the lobby, and tears stung at her eyes. Tears she hadn't felt since the very first night she got paid $25 for a handjob in the back alley on Skid Row. Her stomach twisted and tightened, but she wouldn't let the sickening feeling show.

Instead, she arched a perfectly shaped brow, "I bet I would. I know what you're getting out of this, Reigns, but what about me?"

Roman shook his head at her cocksure stance. Her arms folded under those generous breasts, pushing them up, as they nearly spilled forth from the v-neck of her t-shirt. Her hips were slanted just so, allowing for her hourglass shape – a shape women would shed blood to have for themselves, he knew – to be visible.

A smile played at his lips, "From tonight until next Sunday, all day and all night, everything's in it for you."

"If I say yes to letting you have me all to yourself for a week, it's gonna cost you, pretty boy."

"Cost me?" He stroked his goatee thoughtfully and Nikki thought scathingly, you fucking smooth bastard because all she imagined were those very fingers sinking past the neatly trimmed patch of hair to get to the very heart of her liquid heat and knowing exactly how to make her come harder than she ever had.

Girl, Cameron's tone was suddenly in her ear, Do not sell yourself short! You know what you worth! Get it!

"Six thousand," Came after some quick number crunching in her head.

"Four," There were his lips curling into a slow smirk and with him mirroring her stance, those arms – so big and with perfectly shaped muscles, bulging underneath silk fabric – she could only imagine how it felt to be staring at him in the board room.

Feeling insulted, her mouth fell open in offense, "Seven."

He didn't back down. "Five."

She had stepped to him, like she bet no one else had, going nearly nose to nose as she said, "Fifty five hundred."

"Deal."

Downing the rest of her whiskey, she sauntered past, sliding an elegant hand down the length of his chest, popping a few buttons along the way and he thought she had garnered a victory, so he told her, "I would've paid six."

Bright and airy giggles burst forth, as if champagne was being poured from those delectable lips. Turning on a chunky heel of her boots, she told him, tart as ever, "I would've stayed for four."