TWENTY - JAMESON
I used to lie awake in bed at night, fantasizing about having that small-town, warm and fuzzy feeling kind of romance in my life—the one where Prince Charming trots gracefully into my wretched kingdom on a white horse to sweep me off my feet, and then we would ride off into the sunset together to live out our happily ever after. A real Hallmark movie—what a joke!
Not anymore.
Not even close.
My nights were spent falling asleep with murder mysteries or true crime documentaries playing in the background on my bedroom TV.
Second to that, my time was spent plotting revenge against my dad’s killer.
I hardly classified either of those as romantic.
I guess maybe to the right person, it could be.
When I wasn’t dreaming about 101 ways to seek revenge on my enemy, I was in charge of running morally gray operations out of a small-time casino on the banks of the outskirts of Memphis. Some inheritance.
I scoffed at the thought.
Life hadn’t always been like this. At one point, in my mind, I would’ve been well on my way to a crime-free lifestyle.
One where I was saving people, not taking them away—a life filled with peace of mind, knowing I’d made a difference in this world.
I never wanted to be the one coordinating the movement of drugs and guns or stolen artwork or always having to watch my back, wondering who was on my team, who needed to be taken out, and knowing the difference between the two.
That had always been my dad’s life until he’d so graciously handed it down to me.
Instead, I’d been put in a position to give up on my dreams, albeit unrealistic as they were, in exchange for getting my hands on the piece of shit who took everything from me with a promise to fuck his world up when I did.
Would it bring my dad back? No. But would it make me feel a hell of a lot better?
Absolutely. After all my dad had ever done for me, I at least owed him that much.
I thought I’d had it all figured out…and then he came back.
I shouldn’t want him. Not even a little bit, not even at all.
But I did, more than ever.
That truth was a tough pill to swallow. An even harder concept to grasp was Roman didn’t want me. There were times when I’d thought he did, but when I gave him every opportunity to have me, he pushed me aside. I’d already told myself a thousand times this is the last time, yet I still caved.
Every. Fucking. Time.
He did not.
Rolling over with a pounding head, I grabbed my phone off my nightstand.
Panic set in at the date on my lock screen.
Less than twenty-four hours now until the gala.
That was it, and I couldn’t feel less ready in my life.
I could potentially be counting down the hours until my demise, all of the way down to the very last minute.
After a few calming breaths, it was back to business.
I checked my email, glanced over my calendar and to-do list, then caught up on a few overnight texts—making sure I didn’t send any drunk texts to anyone that I might regret.
Nope.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted…sort of. Not sending any illicit texts to Roman didn’t negate the fact that I’d tried to seduce him, again, and had failed miserably.
I checked in with Ivan to see how Chris was doing, see if he’d taken the day off or if he’d decided to brave the elements and come into work today.
Before physically dragging myself out of bed, I reviewed the camera footage outside my door. “You have got to be kidding me,” I huffed out loud.
This was getting ridiculous. I kicked the covers off, threw on the wine-stained T-shirt I’d had on the night before, and trudged to the kitchen. If I was going to face this day and Roman, I needed a cup of coffee ASAP.
My phone buzzed with a new text.
Ivan: Haven’t seen him since yesterday. Office door is closed.
Me: He okay? Anything broken?
Please say no, please say no.
Ivan: Not far as I know. His face and eyes are swollen, black and blue. He’ll live.
That was reassuring, though I was sure he did look like shit.
Me: Thanks. See you soon.
Once I felt like I had enough caffeine in my bloodstream to tackle the next few hours, I cleaned up the shattered shot glass that I’d thrown across the room at Roman as he left me high and dry last night—again—and headed to the shower.
Getting ready for the day, I slipped on a royal blue low-cut silk blouse with my favorite black lacy push-up bra.
Something a tad bit on the sexy side, still a little bit business.
After pulling on a pair of high-waisted black trousers and tucking my phone into place in the inside pocket, I slid my feet into my favorite shiny black heels with the red bottoms. I dried and styled my hair, gave it a final fluff with my fingers, pinning it back, and swiped on some red lipstick to match the bottom of my shoes.
Then, I gave myself a few strategic spritzes of Baccarat Rouge 540 to seal the deal.
On my way out, I made a quick pit stop for a second cup of coffee. One of us is going to need it.
As I exited my penthouse, fresh coffee in tow, I stepped over Roman.
He’d slept on the floor, curled up in front of my doorway.
It was a good thing the only people who had access to this floor were us and staff members.
I’d hate to explain to a paying guest why it looked like a homeless man was sleeping in the hallway.
I nudged him on the shoulder with my toe. He slowly stirred awake with a grunt. “You have an entire suite, Roman, and a very comfortable bed. Get off the floor.”
“Good morning to you, too,” he groaned as he sat up, scrubbing his hands down his face.
I scoffed. “There’s nothing good about this morning. I have a hangover from hell, I’m out of Tylenol, and I walk out to find you sleeping on the floor outside of my door.”
He stretched his arms over his head as he stood up.
The hem of the bottom of his untucked T-shirt rose just slightly, showing off a sliver of his smooth, tanned skin and a hint of a happy trail.
It’s too early for this, James. Did you already forget what happened last night…
and every other fucking time before because he won’t cave in to you? Hmm?
“Not the worst place I’ve ever had to sleep. I could have been in the bed next to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good thing you didn’t have to sleep in either of those places. You’re the one who chose the hallway. Here.” I handed him the cup of coffee I’d just made. “Coffee with a splash of milk, no sugar.”
“Thank you.” He took a sip. The slightest hint of a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Aw, you remember how I like my coffee?”
“Lucky guess.” I wasn’t about to tell him I’d never forgotten. “Consider it an apology for last night. I was out of line.”
“Apology accepted. You sure you don’t need it?”
“Do I look like I do?”
“Eh.”
“I’ve been worse. I’ll just grab another cup downstairs.”
“Sounds good. What’s on the agenda today?”
I eyed him up and down. “For starters, you look like you need a shower more than I did this morning. Why don’t you go do that, then meet me in my office. We’ll figure it out from there.”
“Sometimes I think you’re just trying to get rid of me.”
“If I wanted to get rid of you, I could.” Which was true. If he’d said that three days ago, my answer would have been different. Because three days ago, I wanted to get rid of him. “I’m just used to working solo.”
“You know I don’t like you being alone.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Okay, I’m not supposed to leave you alone. Better?”
“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Would it make you feel any better if I get someone from security to meet me there and stay with me?”
“Very much so.”
I pulled out my cell and dialed up the surveillance office. Jordan answered. “Hey, Jordan. Can you meet me at my office in five? Roman’s got some things he needs to handle this morning. Thank you.” I ended the call. “Better?” I mocked him.
“Much.” He brushed by me, the hair on his arm tickling against mine as he passed, his gaze locked on me the entire time. “See you soon. Stay out of trouble.” He disappeared into his own suite and closed the door.
As soon as the door shut, I closed my eyes for a brief moment, thinking back to just a few hours ago. I was so embarrassed about my behavior. It would take more than one moment of weakness or lapse in judgment on his part to succumb to me.
He was right about one thing: he didn’t ask me to go down on him. I did that on my own…and I didn’t regret it. Not one bit. Hell, despite my own frustrations, I might just be dumb enough to consider doing it again if the opportunity presented itself.