Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3) (3 page)

"For a while, I thought just sending your mother money every month was me doing what I was supposed to do. Actually I thought I was doing what most of the neighborhood losers I grew up with weren't bothering to do. Taking care of mine. But once I really grew up and recognized that it takes more than a few dollars every month to be a father, to really take care of my responsibilities, I finally understood that I was doing you and myself an injustice.
 

"After that realization, there was no turning back for me. So when you called that day for my help, and asked me to come bring you some money, I knew that was a sign. I became determined to give you the life you deserved. A better life than I ever had growing up. The best schools. A nice house. A career. And I've done that. I'm still doing that. Now it's up to you to decide what you are going to do with all that I've given you."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say by telling me that long saga of my bastard beginnings," I say with an edge to my voice.

Joseph sighs. "Why are you looking for clients, Roman? You certainly don't need the money. I've made sure of that."

I think about that question. It's the first time I ever really gave it any serious consideration. Why am I busting my ass trying to find new clients when I don't need the money? When I could live off the interest of the money I have in the bank.

"Well for starters, there isn't just me to consider. There's Camden, Cutter and Jade. They're all counting on me."

"Jade and the boys can manage the club, or you can split Mendez with them, or maybe they should go on their own and do something else. So what's the
real
reason you're holding on? Dig deep."

I consider everything Joseph is asking. Instead of thinking of a snarky comeback, I decide to try and be honest with him. To be honest with myself.
 

"No one wants to just get up everyday and do absolutely nothing, Joseph. Not people like me. I need to keep busy. I need to work."
 

"You already work. Dig deeper," he demands.

"I want more challenging work. I want clients. More like Mendez, or better yet, even more fucked up ones. I don't want to just manage a club and babysit a baseball player. I'm better when I have a problem to solve."

"Good answer, but I think it's more than that. You just haven't accepted the truth yet."

I tell this bastard the truth, my truth, and it still isn't good enough for him. It never is.

"Are you listening to me, old man? I need clients. That's all there is. There is no other truth."

"All right then, if that's all there is, then go get yourself some clients."

"What the hell do you think we've been discussing here? I could get them if you'd stop throwing up roadblocks everywhere. No one will work with me. You've led them to believe that all I am is muscle, and that you were the brains. They don't think I can handle the jobs. That I'm not polished enough."

"And I wonder why they think that?"

"Are you blaming me for some of the carnage I've left behind for the sake of the family business? Because let's not forget that I was doing most of it under your orders. Your command. You wanted shit to get fixed, and sometimes that meant that things got messy. That's the world we live in. The life we chose. And you taught me everything I know."

"You're right, but clients don't want to know about the threats, the violence, or the fear that it takes to make their problems go away. They want to pretend that they've hired someone who can just magically make shit disappear for them, and leave no mess behind to remind them of what they've truly asked for."

"So you're saying the reason I have no clients is because I'm messy?"

"All I'm saying is that I am not purposely stopping you from getting any clients. I don't have to, nor do I have any interest in doing so. I was just hoping you wouldn't want that life any longer. I hoped that you'd take my gift of the club and Mendez and go live your life. A peaceful one. I can see I may have miscalculated your need for a crisis."

I made Elizabeth a promise and I've kept it by being here, but I've humbled myself as much as I possibly can today.
 

That's it.
 

I'm done.
 

I can see that this meeting has been a complete waste of my time just like I knew it would be. This is some sort of
pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, son
teaching moment for him. As if I'm some sort of spoiled trust fund baby. He fails to recognize the major part I played in the success of his, no scratch that,
our
business. Without me there'd be nothing getting the fuck fixed. There'd be no business.

He has no stomach for the dirty work anymore, and he hasn't for a long ass time. He thinks you can just throw money at any problem and get it taken care of, but you can't. Some people don't respond to money, regardless of the amount, especially when they think they can get more. Some people just need an old fashioned boot up their ass.

"All right then. Please thank Juliette again for the lunch." I take a final bite of my sandwich. "It's been illuminating speaking with you as usual, Joseph."

"I assure you that I'm doing nothing to prevent you from acquiring clients, Roman. They're just not ready to hire you. You'll have to figure that out on your own. If I do it for you, no one will respect you. Plus, it's not totally dried up for you out there. I've heard you've been getting a couple of clients."

"Not good ones."

"Do they pay?"

"That's not the only factor to consider and you know that. I have to be particular about what types of jobs I take. What work they want me to do. I've achieved a certain level of cache. I have standards."

"Oh so barn burners are too beneath you?" The old man asks.
 

Barn burners is what we call an arson job. Arson jobs can be a huge headache if you don't get it right, and they can get you serious time if you get caught. Those are not jobs that men at my level should even be entertaining. They're way too risky, and there's not enough profit.
 

"See that's the difference between you and me. I started out in this business here." Joseph holds his hand palm down at his hip.
 

"I took on shitty ass clients and built my business to here." He raises his palm up next to his waist.
 

"Important men started hearing about the work I was putting in on the streets, and I started getting hired for bigger jobs. Better clients. Ones that paid with a check, and not with cash washed through a strip club. I was quiet, I was efficient, and at the time I was cheap. And then ... I rose my business to here." He raises his palm to the side of his forehead.
 

"And I fought like hell to keep it at this level. But the problem with you is that you think that you're already here, when you're really here." He moves his hand back down to his hip.
 

"You've been living off of my reputation and my success, but you still have dues that must be paid if you want to rise to the level that I'm at. I didn't want that for you, but if that's the life you're seeking, you need to recognize where you fall in the food chain."

I've heard enough, so I stand up and put on my jacket. He's never respected me, the Kings, or what we've done to help make him the success that he thinks he is. I'm ready to get out of here. I'm going to fuck Elizabeth good and hard for making me agree to this waste of an hour.

"Wait," he says in a tone of voice that sounds almost regretful.

I finish putting on my jacket. "What?"

"The thing you said about bringing brother and sister together."

"What about it?"

"Do you think you can do it?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what happened between you and her family that made them hate you so much?"

"Nothing in particular. Loving Juliette."

"Well they're seriously taking out that shit on me. Elizabeth's father made it quite clear. Their bigger issue with me isn't necessarily that I'm related to their daughter by marriage, but that I'm
your
son. They dislike me, but they despise you."

"You may be right about that."

"Plus I don't really give a rats ass if brother and sister never talk again. It doesn't affect me either way."

"See that's another area where we differ. It makes me question the depth and sincerity of your so-called feelings for your cousin. All I see are advantages to making sure brother and sister reunite. The main one being that it will make my wife happy, and I would move heaven and earth to make Juliette happy. You obviously wouldn't do the same for Elizabeth. You need to ask yourself if she's what you really want, or more importantly if you've even earned the right to have her."
 

I hate the old man sometimes. He's an asshole. Especially because he has the unique ability to make me second-guess myself and call me on my shit like no other. All this lunch has managed to do is piss me the fuck off. Elizabeth is definitely going to have to give me a repeat performance tonight to help me heal myself of all of the fucking passive aggressive jabs he's taken at me today.

I start walking towards the front door. I want to get the hell out of here in the worst way. He didn't really have to bother telling me
again
how my existence wasn't planned or wanted. That has always been crystal clear. Yet there's something about hearing it from his own lips, though, that makes me resent him just a tad bit more than I already did before I walked in this house.
 

We were never ultra close, but there were times when Joseph gave me glimpses of what a good father should look like. He took me to buy my first car. He introduced me to boating. He actually attended a couple of parent-teacher nights. He brought me into the
family
business. It's the knowledge of him doing these things, things he didn't have to do, that have always been at war with the man who left me without a second glance in the care of my crazy ass mother. The man who took years to get it
sort of
right. The man who basically just told me to my face that I don't deserve Elizabeth. That I'm not worthy.

Am I?

CHAPTER THREE

ROMAN

This is the second best feeling in the world.

My knuckles connecting with the jaw of a complete prick.

His face twisting and contorting from the impact.
 

Blood splattering across the sleeves of my hoodie and the concrete.
 

My heartbeat steady.
 

My breathing calculated.
 

Damn, I missed this. This kind of control. This absolute power. It's as close to an orgasmic experience as I can feel. Not to mention that I'm doing the world a public service by kicking this dirtbag's ass. Everyone out here has been talking about him under their breath but not doing one single thing about it. Somebody out here had to step up to the plate.
 

Today it's me.

I'm not sure how many days it's been since I've been on a run. I've lost track, which isn't a good thing, so today was hard. Real hard. My run didn't feel good like it usually does. The endorphins never kicked in. The shit felt like work.

That was until I spotted this dirty looking skateboarding kid in the middle of the park, who was tearing into his girl's ass about something. Probably something trivial. Something that didn't warrant the venom he was spewing. Annoying the fuck out of me and everyone within earshot, by getting louder and louder by the minute, and making the girl tear up in public.
 

The girl's a plump little thing with mousy brown hair and sad eyes. Wearing a dingy plaid shirt and ill-fitting jeans, the girl wasn't much to look at, but fuck if that mattered. She was somebody's daughter or perhaps someone's future mother. Hopefully never the mother of this devil's spawn. I literally watched this poor girl shrink by at least a foot from sheer humiliation today.
 

So while it is completely none of my business, I just couldn't let it stand. Like I said my run has been shitty, and so I'm already annoyed. I had to make it my business.

As their confrontation escalated, I casually finished stretching my hams and calves out, cracked my neck, and started to walk over to where the two of them were standing. Him yelling. Her shrinking. They were by the park's tallest white oak arguing, or should I say the prick was yelling while the girl cowered and took small steps back, farther and farther away from him. I can tell that he's done this before, and I'm guessing he's holding back because they're in public, because she's frightened but not surprised.

They both noticed me as I silently began to walk over towards them. The girl diverted her eyes quickly away as if she was embarrassed that I'd noticed the scene that he's making. The asshole tried to hide the fact that he's cracking the knuckles of his right fist behind his thigh. He knows everyone is watching, and he knows he's being out of line; so I guess he calls himself getting ready for a confrontation with me, but I'm ten steps ahead of his ignorant ass.

"What the hell do you–"

Before he can finish biting my head off, I make sure that my fist connects with the bottom of his chin with one quick but powerful upper cut, ensuring that he will bite down completely through his tongue when his jaw snaps shut. I hope the embarrassment and more importantly the pain will help him remember this day for a long ass time, because it hurts like a motherfucker.