by Gephart, T
“You’re leaving?” My eyes bulged wide in disbelief.
Roman was cocky but never irresponsible. Not with work anyway. So, while he might be confident on what tomorrow’s decision was going to be, he wouldn’t risk being underprepared. Would he? Unless this was some ploy to make me underprepared so Jana would have no choice but to choose him.
“Sure am. So, you can come with me and get that drink, or not.” He waited, resting his arm on the back of the chair. “Your way, my way—tomorrow’s outcome isn’t being changed by anything we do tonight.”
He was right about that.
Chances were Jana had already made her choice, but there was something about tonight that made me unsettled.
Roman had never asked me out for a drink.
Never.
We’d been out together at a bar after work, but there were always other people around. Other associates, work people, it had never been the two of us. He didn’t need any more friends, remember? So, while the invitation was unexpected and an obvious diversion, I couldn’t deny I was curious.
Roman in the wild was something I’d never seen before. It wasn’t something that was easy to turn down either.
That’s why the idea was tempting, so I could get some secret insight like he seemed to have on everyone else. Something that could potentially be useful further down the line. Information was good. Practical. Wanting to say yes had nothing to do with the fact he was an attractive, smart man who would never ask a woman like me on a real date.
It wasn’t that I was being self-critical. I knew I was smart, and while I wasn’t a candidate for Sport’s Illustrated, I wasn’t hideous either. But Roman had a very definite type. The women he was interested in were always beautiful, and while I could probably qualify for this on a good day, I came up lacking on his other criteria.
Like big breasted.
Nope, even on a good day I was average, and I was totally okay with that. Big boobs were more trouble than they were worth from what I’d seen, and I was fine with my adequate bust size.
But most importantly, almost every woman I’d seen Roman with had been tall. Towering super models who gave gravity a run for its money—with the aforementioned big boobs surely throwing their balance off. Even in heels, height was a stretch for me. Unless I was in a room full of preschoolers, and then it might be a possibility. But in the world of Roman Pierce, I one hundred percent did not fit the definition of anyone he would date.
Which was why I had to go.
Because that made sense.
“I’ll go.” I stood up, throwing caution and clearly common sense to the wind as I agreed to go get a drink with him. “Let me just get these files back together.”
“Leave the files.” He put his hand down on the mess of papers, any effort to clean them up stopped by his massive palm. “Get your stuff and let’s get out of here.”
“O-kay.” I didn’t bother to argue, leaving everything where it was. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I moved out of the boardroom to my office at the end of the hall. He might have ignored my question about the phone call, but who or whatever it was had definitely got under his skin. Grabbing my purse, I shut my office door behind me and walked back toward the boardroom to find him waiting out in the hall.
“We’ll take my car.” He didn’t ask, more dictated what we were going to do.
“Mine is parked downstairs too.” I stopped short of telling him that riding in the car together was not going to happen. Not when I had no idea what was going through his mind. “Just tell me which bar you want to go to, and I’ll meet you there. Then I can just drive home.”
He looked at me for a second, almost like he was going to argue. “Heart and Vine.”
“Okay, I just want to get something else before I leave, I’ll see you down there.”
I was lying of course; I just needed an excuse to stall. It would be too awkward to ride the elevator with him, walk to our cars and then drive to the bar. Not sure why exactly, but it felt weird and considering the whole scenario felt strange, I wasn’t going to add any more.
“Fine.” Again he didn’t argue. “See you there.”
And with a nod he left.
Well, the evening just took a turn for the unexpected; my only hope was that it was a good thing.
I WAS SURPRISED TO FIND a vacant parking spot when I got to the bar. Even though it was a weeknight, like most bars in L.A., Heart and Vine was packed.
I felt slightly overdressed wearing a pencil skirt and jacket, so as I slipped out of the car seat, I pulled off my jacket and unbuttoned my blouse a little. Not enough to be sexy, just so I didn’t look like I was in there to serve anyone a subpoena.
A quick adjustment of my hair, pulling it out of the ponytail and letting it fall loose, I de-corporate-fied myself. Well, as I much as I could using the side mirror of my car and working with what I had. It wasn’t that I was trying to impress him either, but the effort made me feel less self-conscious.
So without giving it any more thought, I locked my car and made my way inside.
The venue was unremarkable. Lots of polished wood with a long bar at the back and small round tables cluttering the edges of the room, allowing drinkers to talk and sit. The ambiance was more old school, lacking the shine of a new, hip and happening place, which was surprising for some reason. In the few occasions we’d shared a drink—outside of our late night desk drinking—he’d seemed to favor more higher brow establishments while this was more 90’s flannel Nirvana.
It was easy to spot Roman when I walked in. He was sitting at the bar with a beer in front of him while a bunch of women giggled nervously at his side.
Cue my lack of surprise.
He didn’t look interested in the conversation, his eyes floating across the room until they met mine. Then he said something to his lady friends and their giggling stopped, watching me as I walked over.
“Ladies, it seems my friend has arrived. It’s been nice talking to you.” He gave them a sexy smile that made one of them moan but they didn’t linger, dispersing like a pack of roaches after the light had been turned on.
I wondered if that was what it was like for him whenever he went out? Buzzards circling a carcass, just wanting to make their move. I’d accused him of being a horse’s ass on more than one occasion so I could totally see it, the thought making me smile as he watched me intently.
“I thought we were having scotch.” I nodded to the beer, taking the newly vacated stool beside him. “You promised me you weren’t cheap.”
“I’m not.” He took the bottle into his hands and lifted it off the bar. “The beer was just my starter, I’ll have a scotch with dinner.”
“Dinner?”
Whoa. Dinner? I had already established—at least in my own mind—that this wasn’t a date. It was a drink. Now we were at the bar and he’d changed the parameters by introducing food, which made it more date-like. I wasn’t sure if the new development was welcomed or not. I didn’t like surprises, especially from people I didn’t quite trust.
“I’m sure it didn’t escape your attention that we didn’t eat.” He brought the bottle of beer to his lips and took a slow mouthful. “Drinking without food consumption would be irresponsible, especially since both of us are driving. Given your size and weight.” His eyes traveled up and down my body. “It wouldn’t take a lot to put you over the legal limit. And considering you turned down my offer to drive you, I doubt you are going to let me do that later when you are at risk for a DUI. So, dinner. They’re holding a table for us, let’s go.” He took another mouthful and moved off the barstool waiting for me to do the same.
“You constantly talk like you’re trying to secure a verdict, you know that.” I rolled my eyes, my time sitting at the bar short lived as I joined him on my feet.
He placed his hand on the small of my back as he prompted me to walk. “People usually just do what I say the first time. And I could say the same for you. You’re argumentative.”
“Occupational hazard,” I declared proudly as I moved in the direction he indicated.
There was an odd sense of awareness as we walked through the crowd. Like there were eyes on us, watching our every move. Almost as if they were wondering what we were doing together, something I still hadn’t worked out. Or maybe it was because Roman looked like he could be someone famous and they were trying to guess which celebrity he was. I could have saved them the time, while the man was gorgeous, being an asshole didn’t qualify you for stardom. Unless he was leading a double life and shot catalogues for Hugo Boss in his spare time. It would explain all the fancy suits. Maybe I needed to hire a “guy” and do some investigating of my own.
“This is us.” His head tipped to the small round table with a reserved sign on it. There were menus already in place as he pulled out one of the two chairs and waited for me to sit down.
“Wow, you have all the moves don’t you?” I shook my head as I took my seat. “Please tell me I’m not taking poor Carla’s place. I’m not in the mood for showy confrontations with any of your girlfriends.”
Considering we’d made plans less than an hour ago, I found the reserved table suspicious. But it would make sense if he had a standing date that it would be easy to “sub” me in.
How very convenient for him.
Asshole.
“You sure you want to know the answer to that?” He looked amused as he took his seat opposite me.
“Sure, why not.” I shrugged, almost positive I knew the answer. It wasn’t that my feelings were hurt, I was just surprised he was so transparent.
“I don’t take Carla anywhere. I fuck Carla, and then I leave,” he said with almost no emotion.
I smiled, refusing to be embarrassed when he didn’t seem to be. “Well, I guess that’s efficient.”
“What about you?” His eyes seared me as he looked at me from across the table.
My skin tingled at the intimate suggestion. “I’m sure she’s a nice girl, but not interested in fucking Carla.”
He laughed, seeming to be amused by the answer as he shook his head. “I meant, are we going to have any showy confrontations after yesterday’s failed date? How many times has he texted you?”
Gulp.
I hated that he knew things. Things he had no business knowing. And maybe Gavin had sent me a few texts, but they were only friendly how-are-you-doing messages. Just being friendly and decent, not because he wanted anything from me. Not that Roman would know anything about that.
“You guys ready to order?”
I was saved from answering the question by a pretty waitress. Her smile was on Roman as she moved the pencil to her lips and bit the end in what I assumed was flirting. Seriously, was no one immune?
“Two eighteen-year-old Macallans, neat.” He ignored Miss Flirty Pencil-in-my-lips as he ordered our drinks without asking, his eyes turning over the menu before adding. “And a Philly cheesesteak with fries.”
“Ummm.” Panic fluttered across poor Miss Flirty’s face as she leaned in. “I’m not sure we have Macallan.” She seemed to take it personal, like she was disappointed at not being able to get Roman what he wanted.
“You do.” He blinded her with his effortless smile, the poor girl not standing a chance. Even if they didn’t have it behind the bar, there wasn’t a doubt she’d probably commit armed robbery just to get it for him. “I’ve had it here before.”
“Oh, okay.” She smiled, not bothering to write it down and committing his order to memory like she’d been given the Ten Commandments by Moses himself. “And for you?” Her smile less bright and cheery as she directed her attention to me, my existence no doubt putting a damper on her fantasy.
“I’ll have the chicken club,” I responded after a quick scan of the food on offer. It was standard bar food but since sitting down I was feeling hungry. “Thank you.” I grinned as I handed her back my menu.
“No problem.” Her voice was laced with faux sweetness as she turned back to Roman. “Anything else before I go?”
I rolled my eyes, wondering if the showy confrontation wasn’t going to come in the form of our waitress. No wonder he didn’t go on “dates.” Especially if this was what it was like every time he went out.
“No, thank you.” He gave her a tight smile signaling she was free to go, her ass swaying like she was going to dislocate a hip as she walked away from the table.
“So, your date.” Roman slid straight back into the conversation, the break not enough apparently to shift his focus. “How did he take it?”
“He was fine, completely understanding,” I answered, knowing there was no point dodging the question. Roman clearly wasn’t going to let it go and hopefully now we could drop it and move on. Besides, there was no need to lie. Gavin had been great about the whole thing.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure. And was he understanding when you told him you weren’t interested?”
I swallowed, wondering if as part of his investigations if he hadn’t tapped my phone. “Tell me, Roman.” I refused to give into him anymore than I had already. “If I’m not here as a Carla proxy, who were you intending to meet here tonight? Unless you managed to call and get a table between the time I left you at the office and here.”
“Actually, that’s exactly what happened,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “I called from the car. I know the owner of the bar, he’s a friend of my brother and owed me a favor.”
“You have a brother?” I leaned in closer, my eyes widening in surprise.
It was the first personal bit of information he’d ever shared. And while the fact he had a sibling wasn’t shocking in itself, part of me had believed he had been abandoned at birth and raised by a pack of coyotes or something.
“I have a few.” His lack of a committed response intriguing me even more.
“A few.” It was my turn to pursue the hardline, my pulse spiking as I delved deeper. “Like two or three? Or are you talking a reality show size numbers? Wait.” I held my hands up, wondering if he hadn’t been brought up in a weird cult, which would totally explain his prickly behavior. “We are talking blood relations, right? Brother isn’t some code for something else, is it?”
“You think I’m in some sort of gang, Harper?” He looked amused, saying nothing to disprove any of my theories.
“Honestly, it seems unlikely.” Unless the gang was a white-collar syndicate and then it made all kind of sense. “But if you were, you aren’t going to admit it to me, are you?” I’d be obligated to report his illegal activities to the bar and turn him in.
“No, I wouldn’t.” His lips edged into a sexy smile. “But if it makes you feel better, we share DNA.”
The waitress returned, showing how talented she was carrying a tray of our food while maintaining her hip-swing. She’d also applied a fresh coat of shimmery lip gloss, her tongue sliding across her sparkling pink lips as she placed Roman’s plate in front of him.
To his credit, he didn’t look up, her performance going unnoticed as she delivered my food and our drinks. She slinked back away without the acknowledgment she’d obviously been after.
“So, where do you fit in the band of brothers?” He might have been coy about giving me specifics, but I wasn’t done with my interrogation yet.
“Second oldest.” He again gave me as little as possible.
“Ah, which means there’s at least four of you.” I nodded, his brow rising at my deduction “See, if there were less than three, you’d have a specific birth order. Oldest, middle or youngest. When there are four or more, then unless you are the oldest, or youngest—which you aren’t—the middle category becomes redundant. So, there’s at least four of you.” My reasoning was solid, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, I knew I was right.
“There are five,” he conceded, looking impressed that I’d been close.
“Holy shit,” I choked out, the idea of five versions of Roman roaming the Earth, terrifying. “Five? Five of you?”
He waved dismissively, picking up his Philly cheesesteak and bringing it to his mouth. “Relax, my brothers are nothing like me.”
“Are they nicer?” It slipped out, my mind still reeling he was one of five boys. He hadn’t mentioned any sisters, but he hadn’t ruled them out either. Maybe I’d nixed the cult idea too soon.
“They like to think so.” He laughed, yet to take a bite of the sandwich in his hands. “Can we eat yet, or do you want to continue with the cross examination?”
“Sorry, I’m just . . .” Shocked, surprised, utterly confused how he could have at least four—we still didn’t have a final number—siblings and I’d assumed he’d been an only child. “Glad you felt you could share that with me.”
Roman was a vault, so any information he shared was intentional. Why he’d chosen tonight to let down his guard, I still wasn’t sure, but I’d hoped it was because even though we weren’t friends, he respected me.
“I have a sister,” I offered, feeling he’d earned the mutual exchange. “Morgan is older by three years, she’s a nurse,” I added, giving him a lot more than he’d given me.
Not that I cared, most people I worked with knew about the sister I shared an apartment with, some had even met her. Roman had been the only one who hadn’t seemed the slightest bit interested in my personal life.
“I know. She works at Ronald Reagan UCLA.” He lowered his sandwich, my mouth dropping open before he added, “I saw her uniform when she came in last month.”
I nodded, not needing to tell him because he probably already knew. “Yes, she works in the E.R.”
“Good to know.” He winked. “If the gang ever needs medical attention, I know who to call.”
We were in unchartered territory.
Regular conversation.
Being pleasant.
I had been sitting with him for almost an hour and hadn’t contemplated a random act of violence since before we left the office. I hadn’t insulted him in a while either, and I didn’t want to.
It was almost as if he was human.
Maybe this was the turning point, and he’d finally, for whatever reason, let me in. And while I loved our mental sparing, it would be nice to have a real partnership. Someone who would have my back rather than someone who wanted to drive a knife into it.