Masterson

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "I'd really like for us not to be strangers,” he says in a gravelly voice that I could very well become addicted to. "Did my five things work?"

  "Four things–" I correct him. "And no they didn't work. I've met you twice, you've told me four random things about yourself, but you forgot the most important."

  "What's that?"

  "Your name. Remember I don't eat with strangers or talk to strangers." I grin.

  "Well what will you do with strangers?" he asks with a glint in his hard, obsidian eyes.

  "Nothing,” I say as if it's the hardest thing I've ever admitted to in my life.

  "I'd like to change your mind about that Elizabeth."

  "I don't think so." But I want him so badly, that my mouth is practically salivating.

  I start to notice several pairs of eyes on us as we dance, but don't think much of it, because the stranger's lips are directly above my ear now causing me to block out any further distractions.

  "This stranger is seriously considering bending you over one of these round tables in front of all the rest of these people, and giving you the privilege of calling me whatever name you choose, while I make you come hard with my fingers, then my tongue, then my cock."

  What. The. Frack.

  I wasn't expecting him to say anything remotely close to that, and so my legs almost buckle from underneath me from the images that he's so eloquently described in fantastically dirty detail. He deserves a slap for that, but before I can pretend that I'm insulted by his overtly sexual comments, we're suddenly interrupted by the hilarious aunt I was chatting with earlier. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or annoyed by her interruption.

  "I see you two have already reconnected,” she says with a small dubious grin on her face.

  "Reconnected?" I ask unclear by what she means.

  "Juliette!" she calls across the room. "Come here honey. I believe you have some introductions to make."

  The stranger stops dancing and pulls away from me when he sees Juliette approach.

  I miss the warmth of his body already.

  "Oh, I see you're finally here," Juliette says to him. Wait, my aunt knows Mr. Badass?

  "Hey,” he says while giving her a hug and a brief kiss on the side of her face.

  "Hi yourself, stranger. Did you two actually recognize each other?"

  "Why would we?" he asks looking back over at me.

  A sick feeling grows in the pit of my belly.

  "Oh well, I guess you wouldn’t,” she chuckles. "You've only seen each other once when you were kids, so let me do the honors. Elizabeth, this is Roman Masterson–my stepson. Roman, this is your cousin Elizabeth. My brother Patrick's daughter."

  I swallow what feels like the largest lump of dry cotton down my throat. I didn't recognize the face, but I definitely remember the name.

  "You're Roman!" I didn't mean to say that as loudly as I did, but I'm completely mortified.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment in utter embarrassment at what almost transpired between the two of us. When my eyes rise to meet Roman's, I can't help but wonder what he's thinking right now, but I can't read him. Not until he speaks to me in a tone that makes my hackles rise.

  "Nice to see you again little sunflower," he says in an almost delighted tone.

  And I'm pretty sure that I just threw up a little in my mouth.

  12

  Roman

  I AM TRYING TO SPEND AS little time at my father's house as humanly possible. This is the second week in a row that I've made sure to stay busy either working, drinking, or fucking random women. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this going, not when I promised Joseph that I'd handle whatever trouble my little cousin was in. Of course I assured him of all of this way before I spotted her in the middle of the Club Lotus dance floor. Completely before I fantasized about claiming all of her orgasms for the next year. Totally before I propositioned her at my father's birthday party. Absolutely before I learned that she is my fucking cousin.

  I've thought about running by the house a million times. Even though I don't live there anymore, I still have a room there. Juliette insisted on it and didn't care what Joseph had to say about it. And even though we have an office on South Broad, Joseph likes to handle a lot of his business out of their home. He's old school. He likes to fax versus email, the phone over texting, and he absolutely prefers talking in person above all of that. I think it's because he likes to look you in the eyes and see if you're lying or not. So he's always asking me to swing by the house to talk to me about this or pick up that. I should have been by the house a million times by now.

  But I can't do it.

  Why? Because when I'm near Elizabeth I have this unexplainable craving to touch her. Now that I've held her in my arms once, I can't help but want to hold her again. Preferably in a horizontal position. It's pretty pathetic how I regress into a horny thirteen-year-old boy when I think about Elizabeth. I haven't seen her since the night of Joseph's party, but my dick has been brick hard fantasizing about her every single fucking day since.

  Totally wound up last night from all my pent up frustration, I couldn't sleep and found myself thinking about her. Imagining if I stayed over the house and pulled Elizabeth into my old bedroom. I'd sit her on the edge of my bed dressed in only a thong and a pair of heels by my special request. I don't even know if she wears thongs, but hey it's my fantasy. She'd spread her legs on my command, and then I'd get on my knees, slide her thong over slowly and lick her clit expertly and thoroughly until she cried for release.

  Fuck.

  I don't even want to say out loud to myself how fucked up this is, because blood or no blood, Elizabeth is family. She is Juliette's niece, and I respect Juliette. She's been nothing but good to me ever since I was a kid, which means I need to treat her niece like a cousin; not like my next piece of ass.

  The old man is no fool either. If I keep avoiding the house for too much longer he's going to know something is up. He's paid well to know shit before other people do. To sense shit. If he really starts paying any serious attention to my behavior around Elizabeth or rather my inability to be around Elizabeth, he will immediately see right through me, and he won't like it. The only thing keeping the nosy bastard off my case is the fact that he's preoccupied with the Mendez job. A baseball steroids case. It pays a shit load of money if we can get to any potential witnesses, and pay them to say exactly what we want them to say during his hearing with Major League Baseball. Joseph hasn't asked for my help on it yet, which is fine by me. I've got my hands full with a million other things.

  In my lame effort to avoid all things Elizabeth this week, I slept with a bank manager named Louise. What a head case. She's been full blown phone stalking me for the last twenty-four hours, and I have no one to blame but myself. I have always forgotten the last woman with the next, but this time the shit isn't working. Instead all I've created for myself is a huge headache. So rather than getting some meaningless head tonight from another possible crazy woman, I've decided to drink myself senseless with the fun snatcher–Camden. Getting trashed with someone more miserable than me is a lot simpler than trolling for pussy.

  "Pass me an egg roll."

  "Take all of them. I don't want to eat anymore of this shit,” I gripe.

  "Are you on your period? You are acting like a real bitch."

  "And you aren't?"

  Camden has been my friend for over ten years. We met our junior year of high school when we got into a fight in gym class over a girl named Samantha Minta. Pretty smile and a fat ass but not worth the weeks detention we both received for fighting on school property. We've been cool ever since.

  "I have to keep an eye on my cousin, and I don't feel like it,” I lamely explain.

  "That's why you're so pissy? Fuck it, I'll do it. Is she hot?"

  Just the question alone made me want to kick Camden straight in the teeth. It wasn't his fault though. I haven't told him anything about Elizabeth. He has no idea that I'm lusting after my own damn
cousin, but there's no way in hell that I'd tell him. I mean if he told me something like that, I'd probably beat his ass just because.

  "Drop it, Cam."

  "Why? Is she a wildebeest?"

  "You've been watching National Geographic again?" I smirk.

  "What's wrong with her, asshole?"

  "Nothing's wrong with her."

  "Protective are we?"

  "Not really," I try to say nonchalantly. "I just don't want you trying to fuck her. She's family."

  "Why don't you just send Jade over there then? Make her take her out or something."

  "It's more complicated then taking her out. She's in some sort of trouble. Joseph wants me to handle it."

  "Well that's even easier then. It's a babysitting job with a purpose."

  By purpose, I bet he doesn't mean me plotting and planning on how many ways I'm going to make Elizabeth call out my name in agonizing bliss.

  "Yeah I guess,” I mutter.

  Camden squirts a little duck sauce on his egg roll and takes a bite.

  "So what does Joseph plan on doing with the club?"

  "I don't know. I just know he's tasked me with the job of whipping the motherfucker back into shape, after we planned its self destruction so perfectly."

  "That's what we do,” Camden says somewhat sarcastically. "We've done it a hundred times. We did it with that club on Second Street and we're going to have to do it with The Lotus. What else is new. I just wish I knew what he wants with a couple of local night spots. He probably will make triple what those clubs would make in a year just by handling the Mendez job. It makes no sense."

  I can hear the doubt in Camden's voice. I'm not judging. He's probably right to question Joseph's motives. I just need to know where my friend's head is at. I don't need any Joseph/Camden shit blowing up in my face.

  "What the hell is your real problem with the old man? What aren't you telling me?"

  "Nothing man. Just talking out loud,” he brushes the topic off. "So this cousin of yours. She's over twenty-one right?"

  "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Juliette mentioned that she was twenty-three."

  I'm such a fucking joke right now. Juliette didn't tell me shit, because she didn't have to. I already know my cousin's age and just about every other thing that's on public record for one Miss Elizabeth Hill from Penn-Washington, Pa. She's never had a parking ticket, she has zero student loans, but she's up to her eyeballs in credit card debt. She has a few social media accounts that she isn't really active on unless she's talking about college debt or some gibberish. She also has a rather large medical bill on record, seeing as though she was hospitalized recently for a head concussion and minor lacerations. An incident I won't tell Joseph anything about until I know more.

  "So what's she doing living with them?"

  "I'm assuming it has something to do with the trouble she's in idiot. Did you not hear anything I said? All I know is she lost her apartment or something. She used to live over by the art museum. It's my job to find out why."

  "You want me to run a check?"

  At Masterson & Associates, I am the muscle, Cutter is the schmoozer, and Camden is the techie. He spent a lot of our youth breaking into computer systems for fun, and now he gets paid by Joseph to do it. Usually to gain leverage over someone. He might be able to find out everything I need to know about Elizabeth with a few simple strokes of the keyboard, but where's the fun in that?

  "Uh-uh, I got it."

  "You never answered my original question, and hand me the bottle." He points to the bottle of Jack Daniels I brought over.

  "What question?"

  "Is. She. Hot?"

  "You can't fuck her, Camden!" Or I'll have to kill your ass.

  "That's not what I asked." Camden laughs heartily. "But since you brought it up, let me meet her. I'll find out everything you need to know."

  "Hell no,” I say through gritted teeth.

  "Why? I'm a gentleman. I'm way better than you have ever been to a woman."

  Unfortunately, he's right.

  "You're a miserable asshole. Hell. No."

  "Eh, I'll meet her at the club. When are you bringing her? You gotta keep an eye on her right? You'll have to bring her to the club at some point."

  "Camden–" I'm barely holding it together. "You sound like your horny brother right now."

  "I'm doing you a favor," he says sarcastically.

  He's right about one thing though. I can't run from this forever. It's time to man up. I pour myself a shot and make the tough decision.

  "I'll go check on her and bring her to the club tomorrow, but I just want you and Cutter to be friendly to her. Put her at ease. Otherwise she's hands off. Don't let me have to tell you again."

  "All I want to know is, Is. She. Hot?"

  Fuck yes.

  "She's my cousin asshole. I haven't even thought about it."

  13

  Elizabeth

  A BRISK KNOCK AT THE DOOR abruptly wakes me to a sunlight drenched room, and a laptop still in my bed that's about to conk out on less than five percent battery power. I fell asleep working in bed again.

  I've actually been doing this for the last few days. Staying up because the freelance coders I'm able to afford all live in India, and we're on two completely opposite time zones. The only way we can chat live to troubleshoot is if I stay up, so that's what I do. Of course this is driving Juliette completely insane. She doesn't understand what I do and why I need to stay up half the night to do it, and even if she did, all she cares about is feeding me.

  "Come in,” I say completely hiding under my covers. I know it can only be her, but I look like death warmed over and my morning breath is lethal. I wouldn't want to kill her with it.

  "Get up, Duchess."

  I jump damn near out of my skin when I hear the deep familiar voice, and squeeze my legs tightly together when I peep my head from under the covers and notice Roman leaning against the inside of the door frame with his arms crossed in front of him, dressed in only a pair of black basketball shorts, and dripping in sweat. I can literally see every ridge and hard sleek muscle in his forearms, biceps, chest, and torso. He must have zero body fat and the capability of lifting a Mack Truck. No wonder he oozes confidence and arrogance. How could he be anything but egotistical when he sees that every frackin' day in the mirror.

  "I'm tired," I complain with the covers over my mouth.

  "I bet," he snickers. "I heard that you've been working yourself to death up here."

  "Did Juliette put you up to this? Why are you here?" Where have you been?

  "Not happy to see me?"

  Hell yes.

  "Ugh." I pull the covers back completely over my head.

  "Listen, Duchess. I'm not one for elephants in the room. So I'm just going to say it. I buried you in the backyard when we were kids. It was a shitty thing to do, but in my defense I was only ten. Let's move on."

  That's the elephant in the room he wants to talk about? How about the fact that he was about two seconds away from making me come right on the dance floor of a family party? Or the fact that I've been thinking about him nonstop since we met. I'm lusting after my own cousin! So what we're not biologically related. It's still yucky. I can hear my mother now. Out of all the thousands of men in that city, you have to decide that you want to spread your legs for your cousin Elizabeth? God you're such a disappointment. Then she'd make the sign of the cross and pray for my eternal soul.

  "Don't make me pull those covers off,” he warns refusing to leave. "Get out of bed, nerd."

  "Who are you calling–"

  He whips the covers clear off of me, and I am immediately exposed and freezing. Juliette still has the central air running, and I'm only wearing a very thin neon yellow tank top and a pair of pink and white polka dot panties. My stretched out, worn out pair of panties. The ones you wear when you're almost completely out of clean panties.

  Crap.

  I have no doubt Roman is used to slick, worldly women who only wear la
ce thongs and push up bras and look like Victoria Secret models, the way I've seen women slobber over him. I'm sure I'm giving him a country mouse eyeful.

  "Shit,” I hear him mutter under his breath. "Where are your pajamas, Duchess?"

  "This is what I sleep in genius. Get out!" All I can do is fuss at him to save face. I'm more angry at myself than anything he's said or done. Hell, I'm angry that I haven't washed clothes yet. I do own better looking underwear than this.

  He runs his hand back and forth over the top of his head and exhales roughly.

  "We're going out. Be ready in fifteen minutes. I'm not playing."

  "I don't have time to play with you,” I say back.

  "Good. We're in agreement then."

  "That's not what I–"

  He closes the door sharply behind him, which makes the whole house rattle a little, and I throw my hands in the air in utter frustration.

  "ASSHOLE!"

  Not too long after, I hear a soft knock at the door and imagine he's about to tell me what he thinks about me calling him names.

  "Oh so you're knocking now?!"

  "Elizabeth? It's me sweetie."

  Oh God. It's Juliette. I pull the covers up to my chin so that she doesn't know that Roman just saw me practically nude, as well as to save her from my rancid breath. Where the heck is my pack of gum?

  "Oops, Auntie."

  She enters the room gingerly like she's frightened that I'm going to throw a bottle at her head.

  "Is it safe?"

  "Ha ha. I thought you were Roman again."

  "He's just being a good cousin honey. I know that I said that you wouldn't see him much around here, but he's just trying to get you out of the house for a while."

  "So you put him up to this?"

  "His father did." She holds her hands up like she's under arrest. "It wasn't me. I know how dedicated you are to your work."

  Even though he's eerily quiet, Joseph has been nothing but super sweet to me since I've been here, and I can tell the way he is with Juliette, that he is possessive and protective by nature. Of course he would want someone to look out for me. He probably feels responsible for me since I'm currently living under his roof, but I just can't. Not with Roman.