Cousins: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 1) (15 page)

"What are you doing here Louise? We discussed this."

"I never agreed to anything. I'm not some whore you met off the street Roman. I deserve better than this."

"You deserve exactly what you got. Total honesty. I don't do seconds. What don't you understand about that?"

"Who is she then?"

She points directly at me.

"Someone you shouldn't have fucked with."

Tears start to swell in the woman's eyes, and I'm starting to feel a bit embarrassed for her. What's worse is she looks over at me and catches me seeing her tear up, which is probably making everything a hundred times worse for her.

"YOU ARE A FUCKING WASTE OF MY BREATH ROMAN MASTERSON!"

I was right.
 

The woman begins crying hysterically and literally foaming at the mouth. She's totally irate and out of control. Not like her heart has been broken, but more like she's had it up to here with men doing her dirty. Of course if she hadn't tossed a bottle of water in my face, I might have more sympathy for her.
 

If Roman has this effect on a woman after one night, I think I should be relieved that I totally dodged a bullet. I most certainly would rather be his cousin. Okay, maybe not, but you know what I mean.

He walks away and doesn't say anything else to the woman, which is a relief, because in another minute I think she would have pulled a gun on him or something. After jumping back in the car and nodding a good bye to Tyson, he turns to me as we pull off, his body shaking with laughter.

"You're wet."

"You think this is funny?!" I screech.

Then I break into laughter too, and now we are both in hysterics. I couldn't help it. My shirt was sopping wet, because he wouldn't give that poor woman seconds. This day was turning out to be a super funny adventure.
 

"I'm sorry about that. Her bank is literally two blocks away."

"Her bank?"

"She manages the federal credit union down the block."

"That crazy woman is a bank manager?"

"I only deal with classy women baby." He jokes.

"Obviously."
 

He laughs again, and I have to admit that I'm starting to love watching Roman laugh. He doesn't do it a lot, but when he does it's completely addicting. His eyes crinkle at the corners, his mouth turns up on one side, and I get to see that amazing dimple again.

"So you don't do seconds?" I ask with curiosity.
 

"Not really."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"It means that I don't like to sleep with a woman more than once. They get too attached. You just saw it with your own eyes."

"You slept with her once? Really?" I ask incredulously.

"Yep. Imagine how'd she stalk my ass if I gave it to her again."

I roll my eyes.

"You're such a pig Masterson."

He laughs heartily.

***

WE HAD A LITTLE TIME TO KILL BEFORE we needed to change clothes for the club, so Roman made the decision to drive me around parts of the city that I'd never seen. During college I'd spent most of my time in my one little corner of the world. On campus and very close by. I hadn't ventured out to other parts of the city. There was no need to in my opinion.
 

We drove by what he explained was his former elementary school in a run down part of town that looked like it was probably a nice neighborhood once upon a time. You could tell there were a few families on various blocks still trying to maintain their homes but with limited funds. Roof shingles were askew, paint was peeling, and the concrete steps needed a redo, but the grass was also freshly cut and fresh red geraniums were planted in pots in the front of many of the houses.
 

When Roman points to the building where he learned the alphabet and his times tables, I'm shocked. There isn't enough landscaping in the world to make his elementary school look inviting. It looks like a massive stone and brick prison. I can't imagine any child entering that building everyday and feeling optimistic about life. I feel like seeing it explains his rough edges and quick temper.

"That's big." I comment not wanting to say what I really feel.

"Too big. There were a lot of kids that didn't get along, because this wasn't really their neighborhood. They were being bused in from other parts of the city. I only lived two blocks from here."

"What was wrong with that?"

"Big class sizes. No individual attention. Lots of fighting."

"So where'd your mom meet Joseph?" I ask curiously.

"Joseph's from the neighborhood too. In fact he went to this same school when he was a kid."

Really? I'm surprised and now I'm wondering where on earth my uncles met Joseph.

"Oh."

"My parents knew each other from the neighborhood when they hooked up. It wasn't a romance. It was him getting his shit off a couple of times, and for my mom it was about having a baby before her biological clock blew up. She knew him, she trusted him, and for the most part she was right to trust him. He did more than most of the babies’ daddies from the neighborhood. He always sent money every month and a gift at Christmas."

Roman says the last part with some bite to his voice. I guess that must have been all Joseph managed to do for most of his life. Send money.

"You didn't see him much growing up I take it?" I ask already knowing the answer.

"He would come around once in a while, but my mother has a lot of issues. Ones that Joseph didn't have a lot of patience for. That's why I eventually ended up living with him."

"Do you talk to your mother much now?"

"No." I think I see a flash of pain in his eyes.

"Oh."

"I suppose your parents were very hands on out in the 'burbs."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"There's no need to be ashamed of it Elizabeth. It's cool that your parents gave a shit. "

"Are you angry with your mom or Joseph?"

"No." He says again shortly. He obviously doesn't want to talk about this, so I leave it alone.

I notice a large sign that is advertising a palm reading for ten dollars, and I beg Roman to stop. I considered getting a reading online once, but I’d rather have a live in-person experience.
 

"Roman stop there."

"For what?"

"I want a reading."

"A reading? You do know that these people are frauds right?"

"No, I most certainly do not know that. The Long Island Psychic is real."

"Are you kidding me right now magna cum laude?"

"Summa cum laude."

"My bad, but that makes it even worse. You've got to be kidding about this reading."

"No I'm not kidding. I want to get a reading."

"Palm readings are the ultimate hustle. You're just itching to spend that money in your pocket aren't you?"

He parks the car.

"You're getting out too?" I ask.

"Uh ... yes. Someone needs to make sure that you don't spend all your damn money in there."

"Will the car be okay?" I whisper.

"Why are you whispering?" He laughs at me. "You watch too many movies. The car will be fine. Let's go."

An olive-skinned woman who doesn't appear to be too much older than me, dressed in a long orange and gold maxi dress with spaghetti straps greets us at the door.

"Welcome. Would you like a reading?"

"Yes I would."

"Who's first?" She gives Roman an approving once over from head to toe. Even the palm reader wants in his pants. It never stops.

"I'm just watching." He gives me an I told you so look, but I'm not swayed. I'm still a believer. The fact that she wants in his pants doesn't make her a fraud. It just makes her human.

"Ok then. Have a seat at the round table behind that curtain miss."

I give Roman a wink and make my way behind the curtain. The room is not exactly what I envisioned a palm reader's place to look like. I imagined lots of colorful, flowing drapery, candles and incense burning when in actuality it had more of a low key, calming energy. Pictures of sunrises and waterfalls on the walls. Natural wood shelving with tarot cards, candles and other trinkets for sale. An indoor waterfall sits in the corner of the room with a large wooden bowl at the base of it filled with cash, and some sort of recording of a Native American flute is playing through a speaker hanging in the corner. It's very relaxing and spa like.

"May I have your hands please?"

The woman holds my hands, palm side up and rubs her thumbs back and forth across the center of my palms. It tickles, but I try to hold still, because she is as serious as a heart attack about it.

"Something big is in the works for you. Something you've been working towards a long time."

Ding! Ding! Ding! I'm sold already.

"Yes," is all I reply. Remembering not to give details. I want to know what she sees, not what I want her to see.

"It's going to happen soon and it's going to happen fast, and there will be decisions you are going to need to make in order for it to work out long term."

"Okay."

"He will be one of those decisions."

"Who?"

"The man outside."

"Are you sure?"
 

What does Roman have to do with my business? This is where she's starting to lose me, because I think she assumes that he's my boyfriend or something. An obvious mistake to make, but a mistake nonetheless.

She lifts her head from my palms and looks directly into my eyes.

"I am sure."

"What about my love life?" I wonder if she sees anything about Ethan.

She pauses for a moment as she holds my hands, then looks at me curiously.

"He will be the love of your life."

"Who?"

"The man outside."

I almost laugh.

"Not likely." I mutter under my breath.

"But be careful. Because the passion between you two may consume you."

I tune much of what she says out after that. I've been successfully rattled. I don't think the reader is a complete fraud, because I feel (or at least hope) she was spot on about my business, but her comments about Roman have thrown me off kilter.
 

She instructs me to leave my offering, instead of a payment, in the bowl at the base of the waterfall. Then she recommends that I purchase a homemade candle to burn for further reflection. I've got the money in my pocket, so I say what the hell and purchase a vanilla and lavender soy candle for twenty bucks.

Roman stands as I exit the room, and he looks relieved that it's over.
 

"How was it?"

"Interesting."

"How much did you spend?"

"Thirty dollars."

"For a ten dollar reading?"

He throws a friendly hook arm around my neck as we walk to the car, and it feels so frackin' good. I pray that my attraction towards him doesn't grow any stronger than it already is, but I think I already know the answer to that.

"Did the hustler tell you something life shattering behind the curtain?" He asks smugly.

It's complicated.

Chapter Sixteen

Roman

"We need to talk."

Those are four words most men dread hearing from a woman, but for me there is nothing worse than when those four words come out of my father's mouth.
 

Why?
 

Because I know that whatever follows those words is never going to be a good thing for me.

"About?" As if I don't already know.

"Elizabeth."

Shit.

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth

OVER AN HOUR LATER AFTER our day together, a very shower damp Roman is standing in the doorway of my bedroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, holding my favorite hot pink bra and black lace panties in his hands. I'm terribly embarrassed because I don't make a habit of allowing men to touch my lingerie, but because I've been slacking on doing laundry, I had to hand wash a few things in the bathroom sink.
 

Of course my traitorous eyes are magnetically drawn to Roman's bare sculpted pecs, lean torso, and his well-defined abs, but his lack of boundaries infuriates me enough to snap out of it. I'm freshly showered and sitting up in bed in only a long t-shirt and panties with my laptop on my lap. He needs to stop dropping by my room whenever he feels like it, and he definitely needs to wear more damn clothes.

"Why don't your bra and panties match?"
 

I just need to breathe through his totally inappropriate question, as I try to divert my eyes away from what I imagine is under that towel.

One.

Two.

Three.
 

"Women's underwear is expensive," I explain. "I buy things on sale, so they don't always match." An honest answer, but delivered in a slightly patronizing tone. "Matching underwear is a frivolous expense for women who can afford it. Understand rich boy?"

"Your coke sniffing boyfriend couldn't buy you any matching underwear?"
 

That was a low blow.

"I'm sorry but what crawled up your ass in the last sixty minutes, and why are you even taking a shower here? Don't you have your own place, pervert?"

Roman flashes me a devilish smirk. One he must use that wobbles a woman's knees upon sight, because it was working wonders inside my panties. I rub my legs together under the sheets of my bed like a cricket in an effort to stop the buzz that is slowly building between them.

"I was using the bathroom in my father's house, and your skivvies were hanging on the shower rod for anyone to see and touch. It was almost as if you wanted someone to see them cousin."
 

Roman chucks my favorite bra and panties across the room and they land on top of my lampshade. I wonder if I let them stay there and sizzle a bit, if I could get him arrested for arson.
 

He's in a stinky mood.

"And there's definitely nothing perverted about touching your itty bitty bra and granny panties."

"You're such an ass sometimes."
 

"Not as big as the one you're lying on. Speaking of that. Why are you in the bed? You're supposed to be getting dressed. We're going out in thirty damn minutes. Leave the coding or whatever the hell it is you do alone for one night nerd."