NINE - ROMAN #2
He turned around and casually leaned back against the bar. “True. So how long are you here for?”
“I don’t know. Look, as much as I’d love to sit around and bullshit, I gotta—”
“Then I’ll just get to it. Keep your hands off of her,” he said in a half-assed attempt at a threatening tone. “Understand?”
The fuck? “No. I don’t.”
“I said keep your han—”
“I heard what you said. What I don’t know is what or who the fuck you’re talking about. But I don’t think either of us has time for this shit.”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Roman. I’m talking about Jameson. She was doing just fine until you showed up. You so much as touch a hair on her head, I’ll fucking kill you.”
I stalked toward his desk, leaning in as close to him as I possibly could without removing the physical object between us that kept me from beating his ass. He sunk backward in retreat, completely cornered.
“I assure you, the last thing I would ever do is hurt that woman. The only reason I’m here is to keep her alive because if you or anyone in this state even had a fraction of the balls or skills it took to protect her, I wouldn’t be here.
” His face flushed with red, and the grip on his glass tightened.
“And mark my words, Chris, if you so much as lay a finger on her, I will fucking kill you. That is a promise.”
Before he could respond, I shoved his desk forward into him in a fit of rage. He flinched. “That’s what I thought.”
I stormed out of his office, slamming the door shut behind me. I had no right to feel anything, not one single fucking emotion for Jameson. She wasn’t mine anymore. Turns out time and space did nothing but make me want her even more than I ever did.
At the moment, I wanted to knock Chris’s fucking teeth out and hand them back to him. But I had to keep my shit in check at the risk of her firing me. The last thing I wanted was to relinquish what little control I had over to one of these ass clowns.
This would not be an easy feat.
“Josephine,” I called out when I finally entered the kitchen. I wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or instinct that she had a knack for disappearing when the kitchen doors swung open. “It’s Roman.”
She popped out of the walk-in freezer, bringing a cloud of cold air with her. “You don’t need to announce yourself. I know who you are.”
“Hey, I just wanna make sure I don’t need to dodge any rogue tomatoes or bullets.”
She half shrugged. “Eh, it’s a 50/50 risk. What can I do for you? You hungry?” She pinched my side as she breezed by with a box of frozen something tucked underneath her arm. “You look like you could eat a few meals.”
I swatted her hand away. “I’ll have you know, I’ve worked hard to maintain this waistline. Unlike some men around here,” I said, referring to Ivan and his ever-growing belly.
She smirked. “Well, if nothing else, you’ll definitely need the energy if you’re gonna keep up with that one out there.” She tipped her head toward the casino floor.
“Who?”
“Miss James. That one’s a firecracker, you know.” She shook her head with the faintest grin tugging at her lips. “She ain’t the same, Romie. Hasn’t been since…” Her words trailed off.
My insides twisted. I knew exactly what or who she was referring to. I didn’t even want to imagine how much losing Elliott had changed Jameson; we’d barely scratched the surface.
“Yeah. I’ve noticed. Can’t say I blame her.”
“Anyways, here.” She reached into an industrial-sized, stainless-steel refrigerator, pulled out a cold plate, peeled off the plastic wrap, and handed it to me.
“Chicken salad on a bed of lettuce with sliced tomato and cucumber. Something tells me you’re not a fried chicken, okra, and mac ’n’ cheese kinda man anymore. ”
I smiled at her gesture. “You’d be correct. Though, I’m not sure if I’d turn that down from you.”
“Maybe for dinner. Now, get. Miss Jameson’s sitting out there in the main dining area eating alone. I just served her lunch. She could probably use some company,” she said with a wink.
“Yes, ma’am.”
That was all I needed for now—homemade food and a little reassurance.
If anyone in this place knew James better than anyone anymore, it would be Josephine.
Josephine had been a staple at Emerald Haze since probably before Jameson existed.
It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew more about ops than anyone else since probably ninety percent of business was conducted ten feet outside the kitchen walls.
I took lunch and headed out into the dining area.
It didn’t take long to find the woman of the week.
She was one of three people sitting at one of the four-top dining tables.
The other two people were an older couple well into their seventies, sitting on the opposite side of the dining area, enjoying what I had no doubt was a comped meal.
I walked up behind her, rounded the table, and took the seat across from her. “You know you shouldn’t be sitting out here alone, exposing yourself. You’re a sitting duck out here like this.”
“You left me alone. What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for your return?”
“That’s exactly what you should have done. Something tells me you’ve been doing this long before I came back.”
“Doing what?”
“Being stubborn, hardheaded, disobedient.”
She glanced up from her plate and smirked. “You’d be correct. As many people as I have watching this place, you’d think I’d least be able to sit where I want and eat in peace…well, I was.”
“No wonder Ivan pops Tums like candy.”
She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. He’s been doing that for years. Don’t let me stop you from living an ulcer-free life. I can take care of myself.”
“I have no doubt you have, and you can, but if you could get through this event on your own, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
I dug into my food just as a waitress approached, setting a glass of water down on the table in front of me.
“From Josephine,” she said with a half a smile. She scurried away before I could thank her.
“Maybe,” James said as she stabbed a piece of steak. She pointed it at my plate with her fork. “No barbeque or fried chicken?”
“Not if I want to stay in shape…and not a round one.”
“Hmm.” She smirked and took a bite of food into her mouth.
I watched as she slowly pulled the fork between her pink-tinted lips. That simple act stirred up memories that sent an old familiar sensation straight to my cock. Was she being intentional? Highly doubtful. Was she unintentionally sexy? Every fucking bit of it.
Get it together, fucker.
Picturing James on her knees with her mouth wrapped around my cock was the last thing I needed to be thinking about right now…or ever.
I topped off my glass with water and took a sip. “So, I ran into Chris.”
There. That should keep my mind from wandering somewhere it didn’t need to go. Figured it was a better topic than baseball.
Her head shot up, and she squared her shoulders. “Chris?” she asked with the slightest crack in her voice. “My GM?”