Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Romeo
The clubhouse was quiet. I sat on the edge of my bed staring at the text thread with Fiona. She’d gotten the flowers. She loved them. And when she finally asked, I’d told her they were from me.
No taking it back now.
I’d spent weeks carefully dancing around what I wanted, letting her come closer without ever closing the space completely. Then I sent her flowers—for Valentine’s Day. Subtle. Real fucking subtle. I rubbed a hand over my face.
Maybe I’d pushed too hard. Maybe tomorrow she’d wake up, stare at that bouquet, and decide a thirty-one-year-old biker who remembered her favorite flowers after one conversation was more alarming than romantic.
My phone rang. I looked at the screen. Sugar. Of course. I answered and leaned back against the headboard. “It’s late, Cher.”
“Don’t ‘Cher’ me, Romeo.”
Her tone had me sitting up straighter. Sugar’s mama was my auntie Gail. Auntie Gail was one of three women in my life I didn’t play with. Sugar’s tone was suspiciously close to Auntie Gail’s.
“We need to talk.”
I waited, knowing damn well I wasn’t going to like where this was headed.
“About Fiona,” she added.
My jaw tightened. “What about her?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Rome. I know you sent those flowers. I know you’ve been texting her.” Sugar paused, and when she spoke again, every bit of humor had left her voice. “So I’m going to ask you once, and you better give me a straight answer. Are you playing with her?”
The question landed harder than I wanted it to. Not because Sugar had any reason to think better of me. She knew exactly who I’d been.
“No,” I said, my voice losing its usual humor. “I’m not.”
“Bullshit. You’re a player, Romeo. You always have been. You don’t do relationships. You don’t do commitment. So what the hell are you doing sending flowers to an eighteen-year-old girl who works for me?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” Her voice rose slightly through the phone. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re setting her up to get hurt. And if you hurt her, Romeo, I swear to God—”
“I won’t fucking hurt her,” I cut in.
“Why should I believe you?”
Because every answer I came up in my head with sounded insane, I gave her the truth instead.
“Because she’s mine.”
Silence filled the line. I stared toward the dark window and waited.
“What did you just say?” Sugar finally asked.
“You heard me.”
“Romeo...”
“She’s mine, Sugar.” I stood and paced toward the window. “I knew it the second I saw her. The second she walked into the ski resort with Josie.”
“Knew what?”
“That she’s the one.”
I looked out across the dark clubhouse lot. “The curse, Sugar—it’s real. And it’s her.”
Nothing but silence came through the phone. Then, quieter, Sugar asked, “The La Croix curse?”
“Yes.”
“Romeo, that’s—”
“I know how it sounds.”
Hell, I knew exactly how it sounded. Like I’d lost my damn mind.
“I didn’t really believe it either,” I continued, resting one hand against the window frame. “I thought it was family folklore. Something Mama told us because it made every questionable decision in this family sound romantic instead of insane.”
Sugar made a soft noise that might’ve been agreement.
“But then I saw Fiona.”
I didn’t know how to explain that moment without making it sound bigger than it had been. A woman I didn’t know walked through a doorway and looked at me with her silver eyes and my whole fucking world flipped upside down.
Then I heard her voice. Saw her smile and her heartbreak.
“I’m not playing with her,” I said, returning to the bed and sitting on the edge. “I’m courting her. The old-fashioned way. Because she’s young, and she’s been hurt, and she deserves better than some asshole who just wants to get in her pants.”
Sugar was quiet for several seconds. “You really believe it’s the curse?”
“I know it is.”
“Mama met Daddy when she was seventeen,” Sugar said slowly. “Ran away with him three months later. Granny nearly had a heart attack.”
“I remember.”
“And your mama married young.”
“I know.”
“Aunt Marabella too.”
“I know, Sugar.”
She sighed, and I could picture her shaking her head at me. “Why didn’t you think it would happen to you?”
I looked down at the floor. That question was harder.
“Because I’m not exactly built for happily ever after.”
Sugar went quiet again.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ve lived a life that doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for something pure.”
“And yet here you are.”
A humorless smile touched my mouth. “Here I am.”
“She’s eighteen, Romeo.”
“I know.”
“She’s in high school.”
“I know.”
“She’s got brothers who’ll kill you if you hurt her.”
“That too.”
I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on my thighs. “None of that changes what happened when I saw her. It doesn’t mean I get to rush her. Doesn’t mean I get to decide for her. But it doesn’t change what she is to me, either.”
Sugar was quiet for another moment. Then she asked, “What do you need from me?”
I blinked and straightened. “You believe me?”
“I’ve seen enough La Croix insanity in my life to know better than to dismiss it.”
That pulled a smile from me.
“But,” she continued before I could get too comfortable, “that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hurt her.”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, I’ll make sure every woman in the La Croix family knows what you did.”
My smile vanished. “That’s… excessive.”
“It’s effective.”
Unfortunately, she was right.
“So what do you need?” she asked again.
“Watch out for her. Be there if she needs something.” I hesitated before adding the part most likely to cause trouble, “And if Georgie starts asking too many questions...”
“I’ll run interference.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You better treat her right, Romeo. You better be the man she deserves.”
“I will.”
“She’s special.”
“I know.”
“No.” Sugar’s voice softened. “I don’t mean because of your curse. Fiona’s been through hell and somehow came out of it still kind. Still willing to trust people. Don’t take that from her.”
The words settled heavily on my chest. I knew Fiona had been adopted at fifteen; I didn’t know much about her past though.
“I won’t.”
“You better not.”
We said goodbye and ended the call. For a while, I just sat there with the phone in my hand. Sugar believed me. That should’ve made me feel better. Instead, her last warning stayed with me.
Still willing to trust people.
I’d been so focused on waiting for Fiona that I hadn’t spent much time questioning what waiting actually meant. It couldn’t just mean delaying everything I wanted until she gave in. That wasn’t patience. That was strategy. And Fiona deserved better than being maneuvered into anything.
The flowers weren’t supposed to be a trap. I wanted her to look at them and know somebody had listened. That was it. At least, it needed to be.
I opened our messages.
Me: How are the flowers holding up?
Her answer came almost immediately.
Ma Belle: Georgie says the flowers are suspicious
The image of Georgie glaring at the bouquet like it had personally offended him pulled a smile from me.
Me: Georgie sounds suspicious.
Ma Belle: He says no man sends flowers without wanting something.
My fingers stopped. Smart bastard.
Me: I do want something.
Ma Belle: I knew it
Me: I want you to smile when you look at them.
Her response took longer.
Ma Belle: That was smooth
Me: It was honest.
Ma Belle: Worse
I frowned at the screen.
Me: Why worse?
Ma Belle: Smooth lines are easier to ignore.
Well, damn. That might’ve been the most honest thing she’d ever said to me.
Me: Did you smile?
Ma Belle: Maybe
Me: Then I got what I wanted.
Ma Belle: You’re very pleased with yourself
Me: I made a beautiful girl smile from several states away.
Ma Belle: There it is
Me: What?
Ma Belle: The flirting
Me: You noticed.
Ma Belle: It’s hard not to
Me: Good.
I stared at that last exchange, the phone resting loosely in my hand. She’d noticed. More importantly, she hadn’t asked me to stop. That didn’t mean I got to decide where this went. It didn’t mean she was ready. But it meant she knew I wasn’t pretending this was nothing anymore.
That was enough for tonight. I set the phone on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard. The curse could tell me she was mine until the day I died. Fiona still had to choose me.
And if I wanted that choice to mean anything, I had to give her room to make it.