THREE - JAMESON
“When’s this guy going to be here?” It’d been less than an entire business day since Ivan had somehow convinced me that it was a good idea to let him bring in outside help, and by some miracle, he’d have him here by this afternoon, provided the guy was still alive.
Ivan’s ability to produce help this fast and the confidence he had in this random man gave me an uneasy feeling.
I snuck a glance at him. He sat in his usual spot whenever he was in my office—an antique, emerald-green leather chair with tarnished brass studs and hand-carved wood accents on the armrests.
He had his legs crossed, casually resting one over the other, and was probably playing Mario Kart on his phone.
All I could do was pace back and forth across the floor behind my desk, burning a trail in the carpet.
“Relax,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “He’s here.”
“He’s here?” I stopped short. “Already?” Already.
I didn’t know why I was so surprised that Ivan had delivered on his promise.
After our conversation this morning, Ivan stepped out of my office to call the guy, and within ten minutes, he assured me this guy would be here before dinner tonight. “Where is he?”
“Jesus Christ, you need to relax.” He stood up and pocketed his phone. “He’s in the lobby. You want me to bring him up here, or you wanna come down and meet him?”
“Um, just put him in the Diamond Suite. I’ll meet y’all over there in a few. I’ve got a few things I need to check on first.”
He gave me a look like he knew I was full of shit. I didn’t have anything to do but pull myself together.
“Sure. I’ll text you when he’s settled.”
“Thanks. Stick Jordan at the door, would you?”
“Roger that.”
Ivan made his exit. As soon as the door closed, I flung my laptop open and pulled up the security camera feed. I clicked through the different views until I found the one I was looking for.
A few minutes passed, and Ivan eventually appeared on the screen. I watched as he greeted our guest. He approached him like an old friend, and I suppose he was to some degree if Ivan trusted him enough to ask him for help. He scanned him up and down before giving him a pat on the shoulder.
I zoomed in to get a better look, but the guy had his back to the camera. I stared him down from behind as they walked toward the hotel towers.
Nice ass should have been the last thing that came to mind, but the man was built like a beast. He towered over Ivan by at least a half a foot, and judging by his broad shoulders, bulky upper arms that were hugged deliciously tight by the sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his narrow waist cinched by a leather belt, I could only assume he worked out regularly.
Because no man walked around naturally looking that good.
He must’ve ridden in on a bike. He had a matte-black motorcycle helmet in his grip, hanging at his side.
I switched between camera views as Ivan led him across the main casino floor past the card tables, through the dining area, and over to the elevator lobby near the nickel and penny slot machines. Security gave them a nod as they walked through the corridor.
The two stood side by side, chitchatting like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while. When the elevator finally arrived, I caught a better view of our guest’s face.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
“No fucking way,” I cursed out loud to myself as recognition hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest. His face might’ve been masked by a week’s worth of facial hair, but I knew that jawline from anyone. “That son of a bitch.”
I was going to kill Ivan…and then his friend.
Every image, every pushed-down memory I’d ever had of him burned into my brain, every second from the day we met until the day he’d disappeared from my life when I needed him the most, and every single intimate fucking moment in between resurfaced in a split second of a flash of a profile view.
“Two can play this game,” I mumbled. I pulled up the workers’ contract with the NDA, made a few quick changes, then printed the documents out. Envelope in hand, I stormed out of my office, slamming the door shut, blowing right past Jordan.
He pushed himself off the wall. “Everything okay, ma’am?”
“Peachy.”
He kept up with me as I opted to take the stairs, trying not to slip and fall on my ass in the process.
I made my way across the casino floor faster than I ever had.
Considering I was wearing heels, I was impressed with my ability to move at such speed and not sprain my ankle or faceplant the floor.
Jordan stood silently beside me as I jammed my override key into the lock, taking us straight to the penthouse floor of the hotel tower.
When we came to a stop, I stepped off first and continued my trek to the guest suite. Just as I raised my hand to knock, the door opened. Ivan was on his way out, both he and his friend laughing. They didn’t have a fucking clue I was even here.
“Are you two done having fun yet?” I asked Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber. I shot a look back at Jordan. “You can go now. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, then left.
When I looked back at Ivan and Roman Motherfucking Stone, the blood drained from his face, confirming every single one of my suspicions. My sudden presence processed in their pea brains—he and Ivan both looked like they’d just seen a ghost and shit their pants in response.
“Funny how fast the laughter ceases when I’m around.”
Ivan cleared his throat. “Ja—Jameson, you remember—”
“How could I possibly forget?” I cut in with a forced smile, looking up at Roman as he towered behind Ivan.
Roman folded his bulky, muscle-clad arms across his chest. Stop gawking. A distraction like him was the last thing I needed at the moment.
He looked anywhere but at me and mumbled what sounded something like “Jesus fucking Christ” under his breath.
“Surprised to see me?” I asked Roman.
As I waited for him to respond, I narrowed my eyes and gave Ivan a death stare.
He knew he’d fucked up. Hell, I had fucked up by not listening to my gut and digging deeper and asking him more about his connections.
Instead, I’d put what little faith I had left in anyone and given him full control over this situation.
“Listen, James. I told you to trust me. So just hear me out, okay?”
“I did trust you. I did hear out, and this is what you bring me?” I pointed to Roman. “A dead guy? You both owe me a really big fucking explanation. Big!”
“Shit,” Ivan mumbled as he scrubbed his hands down his face. What? Didn’t think that far ahead? “He’s not—he’s not dead.”
“No shit, Sherlock…not yet.”
“Nobody said he was dead,” Ivan affirmed.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I told Ivan. Then, I glared at Roman. “Well, where the hell have you been?”
I hadn’t spoken to or seen Roman in almost a year.
None of us had, not that I knew of. All I knew was that he was here one day, gone the next.
Anyone who knew anything about his whereabouts had remained tight-lipped about him ever since.
I tried calling him and sent him text after text.
I got nothing. We all assumed he was dead.
That was just how things worked around here.
When people fell off, it wasn’t because they’d decided to up and quit for a different job somewhere else.
It was because they’d been gotten rid of.
I never expected him to be one of those people.
Now here he was, standing less than four feet in front of me like he’d never left in the first place.
“It’s complicated,” Ivan responded with an apprehensive tone.
“Good thing I didn’t ask you. Where. Have. You. Been?” I demanded.
I knew the risks of the job and the risks that came with being with a man like Roman.
It wasn’t uncommon for men like him to be here one day, gone the next.
He’d been with us for a lot of years. Our business needed him more than not.
He’d become an asset. I’d never expected him to be one of them, and apparently, he hadn’t.
Roman’s chest rose, and his nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. “Like Ivan said, it’s complicated.”
“Then somebody start fucking explaining. I don’t have all goddamned day.”
Roman cleared his throat. “Ivan asked for my help. That’s what I’m here to do.”
I poked Ivan in the chest with the corner of the manila envelope. “My life is on the line. I trusted you to bring someone in to protect me, and this is who you call?”
“Wait, wait, wait a damned minute,” Roman cut in as he stepped forward. He tapped Ivan on the shoulder as Ivan stood between us, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re paying me to protect her? You told me you needed my help.”
“I do need your help,” Ivan said, holding up his arms toward me as he slipped his way out of the war zone and stood off to the side, leaving nothing but air and opportunity between me and Roman. “With her.”
Tears stung behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not ever again. I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never shed one single tear over another goddamned man. “You know what? Fuck the both of you.”
“No way, Ivan,” Roman stated, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not babysitting James. Find someone else.”
“Listen, James, I swear I’ll explain,” Ivan had the balls to pipe up.
“Then you’d better fucking start because if this is who you expect to protect me, you both had best be on you’re A game, or I’ll make sure neither of you lives to see your next birthday.” I looked up at Roman. “Yours isn’t too far off.”
“You don’t get a choi—” Ivan started.
I cut in. “What’s wrong with me? Not what you expected?”
Our gazes met. It was the first time we’d locked eyes in what felt like a lifetime. A very, very small shred of me wanted to break down, throw myself into his arms and have a long, overdue cry. I wanted to tell him about all the shit I’d been through, how badly I’d missed him, how much I missed us.
Thankfully, anger took over, outweighing my vulnerability.