Loving Leo (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 3) (12 page)

He sat back and re-placed his hand on her stomach.  “That’s different. It’s not the baby’s fault it’s about to be born into the weirdest family alive.  The baby didn’t choose this life.”  Gary took a deep breath, sensing the shift, eyes falling to her stomach.  “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

“You just want an excuse to go into the kitchen with naked Sarah.”

“God forbid I worry about whether my nephew is hungry or thirsty.”

“
Niece
.”

“Hard pass.  Nephew.”

“Why are you Romanovskys so obsessed with boys?”

“Boys are better?”

“Your
niece
and I are not hungry or thirsty. However, I will lie and say that we are so you can go join your favorite red headed lass in the kitchen.”

Gary sighed.  “Did you make it to your dress fitting the other day?”

Zoey’s eyes lit up.  “Why, yes.  What a great
man of honor
you are.  Thank you for asking.  Yes, I did make it to the fitting, and it’s official!”

Gary waited.  When nothing came, he held his hands out.  “What’s official?”

“Never buy a slinky wedding gown when you’re twelve weeks pregnant, and expect it to look the same when you’re sixteen weeks pregnant.  It’s official that I’m an idiot for falling in love with a wedding dress that is going to broadcast my pregnancy like flashing lights in Vegas.”

“Why not postpone the wedding until you’ve had the baby?”

“Don’t let Val hear you say that.  He’s already pressing me to push
up
the wedding date.  He’s been talking about eloping.  At first I thought he was joking, but…” She waited for Gary’s eyes to meet hers.  “I don’t think he is.”

Gary watched her for a long while, but didn’t respond.

“Why is he in such a hurry?” Zoey asked.

Leo came breezing into the room wearing tapered dark-wash jeans, rolled at the ankle, a fitted long-sleeved heather-gray shirt, and pointed heather-gray suede shoes.  His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, showing his tattoos.  He came to a stop in the middle of the room and held out his arms.

“Yep.”  Zoey jumped from the couch and made her way over to Leo, unbuttoning a few more buttons at the neckline of his shirt.  “Simple.  Effective.”  She brushed her hands along his collar.  “You are an alarmingly good-looking man, Leo.  It’s actually
alarming
.  You never have to do too much.”  She gripped his arms.  “Trust me on this.  Ashley will appreciate this look way more than a suit and tie.  And, you’ll be able to dance in this outfit.”  Zoey broke out into their signature dance move, one they’d made up in high school, eliciting a groan from Gary.

A smile breaking his face, Leo joined in, and a dance battle emerged as each of them busted their corniest moves.  Humming a beat, Leo twisted his body into a combo of the Harlem Shake, The Roach, and The Sprinkler, only stopping when Zoey hit him with The Robot and he was laughing too hard to continue.  He bent over at the waist, taking her wrists in his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

“You never could move like me,” Zoey teased, pushing him.  “Get outta here.  You can’t keep up, baby.  That’s the white boy in you.  You don’t know nothing ‘bout this, son!”

“You guys are lame,” Gary said, frowning from the couch.

Leo’s eyes shone, and he grinned when she went back to adjusting his shirt collar.

“I think I really might like this girl, sis,” Leo said.

Zoey smiled.  “I think you really like
all
the girls.”

“True.  But this one…”

“Is smart enough to give you a good chase,” Zoey finished.  “But eventually, she’s going to stop running.  They always do.  And then you’ll get bored.  The name Leo is so perfect for you, you’re like a leopard.  The second they run, you come alive.  But once you’ve got them under your claws, you’re over it.  Sure, you’ll still eat them alive, because they just taste so damn good, but you’ll be bored to death the whole time.”

“You have me all figured out.”  Breathing deep, he insisted, “This one’s different.”

“Sure.  Until the next one runs by.”  Zoey patted his shoulders.  “A
Leo
never changes its spots.”

***

“What’s going on with you lately?” Roman asked, later that night, as he and Angie walked arm in arm down the hallway of his apartment building.  He didn’t miss the way her eyes darted around, how fast she was moving—almost pulling him—to make it to his door, or the death grip she had on his arm.  “I’m serious.  Took me an hour to convince you to leave the house, and you haven’t stopped looking over your shoulder for one second.  What’s happening?”

Angie’s eyes raced around the hallway.  “I just thought someone was behind us.  That’s all.”

“It’s a private building, Mama,” he soothed.  “You know people have to move mountains just to get past our doorman.”

“Who’s eighty-five years old.”  She clawed her nails into his arm.  “Can we please just hurry?”

“What are you afraid of, Angie?  I’m serious.”

She opened her mouth to answer, and then clapped it shut.

“What aren’t you saying?” he asked.

She tugged his arm once more, speeding toward the door.

Roman sighed as they came to the door, fingering through his keys.  She wasn’t going to tell him what had her acting so paranoid, and he wouldn’t push her.  She still didn’t know that he’d stolen Val’s mug shot from her Zoey file.  He wouldn’t press her to tell him her secrets when he was harboring plenty of his own.

Angie danced from one foot to the other.  “Hurry, hurry…”

The more she danced, the angrier he got.  He knew it was Victor King that had left her in this state, and he hated that his own secrets wouldn’t allow him to talk to her about it.  It took everything he had not to admit to her, right then, that he knew everything, and that she could talk to him.  He couldn’t.  Was it because he didn’t trust her?  How could he love a woman as much as he loved Angie, and not trust her?  His thoughts made the keys tremble in his hold, causing him to miss the lock.

Her fingers dug into his arm.  “Open the
damn
door.”

Worried she would draw blood, Roman pushed open the door of his apartment and let her scamper in before him.  He followed her in, staying close enough to smell her shampoo, wanting her to know he was right behind her.  That he always would be.

When she stopped dead in her tracks in his foyer, Roman was too close to catch himself before he collided into her, taking her arms in his hands when his weight almost sent her tumbling to the floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, steadying her before coming up next to her. The steel door of his apartment slammed shut behind them just as he caught sight of her horrified face.   “I’m serious, Angie.  What is wrong?  Talk to me.” 
Please just tell me your truth so I can tell you mine,
his mind and heart screamed.

Still looking forward with eyes wide as saucers, unable to meet his gaze, Angie clapped a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle a horrified scream.  She turned her face into Roman’s chest.

He cradled the back of her head, frowning as his eyes flew to his living room.

His gaze zoomed to the staircase in the corner, face falling when he caught sight of a body hanging from the railing.

Red welts had formed at the man’s neck where a wire had been wrapped several times, digging in to his pale skin.  His head hung lifelessly as his body swung back and forth, making the foam seeping out of his mouth drip down to the concrete floor on the first level.

For a moment, Roman was frozen.

The sound of Angie sobbing stunned him back to the present.

Taking her arm in a furious grip, his heartbeat went into overdrive as he pulled her crying body with him to the kitchen island.  He swept a blade from the knife block, the largest blade, before dragging her with him to the stairwell.

It wasn’t until they made it to the stairs that Angie found her footing.  When they came closer to the body that was rocking left and right, she clutched Roman’s sweater in a death grip.  They raced up the loft stairs two at a time, and she kept a hold of him as they staggered onto the second story.  Roman went to his knees where the wire had been tied to the railing, and Angie did too, her sobs intensifying when Roman cut the wire and the body thudded to the first floor.

The sound resonated in her ears.

“Is he dea…? Is he…?” Pain poured down Angie’s cheeks and ripped through her heart, rendering her unable to speak.  The horror coursing through her made her bones feel sticky and motionless.

Roman stood and moved toward the stairs.

Too terrified to be more than a foot away from him, Angie clawed at his sweater and pounded down the stairs after him.

They both froze at the bottom of the staircase, wide eyes riveted to the heap on the floor, neither wanting to move any closer.

The body had landed facedown. They inched toward it, bit by bit, and when they were a few feet away, Roman fell to his knees.

Angie bent down behind him, chunks of his sweater still trapped in her fists.

Taking a deep breath, Roman took hold of the man’s shoulder and turned his body with a quick, trembling flick of his hand, as if he was on fire.

The body rolled, and Roman and Angie both stumbled backward, now clutching
each other. 
The head bobbed toward them and came to a rest, unblinking gray eyes burning a hole through both of them.

Emotion stained Roman’s face, replacing the stoic shock that had been there before, when he realized he was looking into the bloodshot eyes of his biological father, Knox Jefferson.

Leo took Jessica’s hand as they followed the hostess to their table at Pariah
.
  Red candles sat on each table and lined the walls, providing the only illumination in the dim restaurant.  The hostess stopped at a round booth in the corner.

Leo looked back at Jessica.  As always, she was so busy taking in her surroundings that she didn’t even notice his gaze until he squeezed her hand.

She looked at him and smiled.

He knew a forced smile when he saw it, and the sight made him even hungrier to get her into bed, where he knew he had the tools to put a
genuine
smile on her face, not that fake shit she’d been giving him since the moment they’d met.

He let Jessica climb into the booth first, eyes falling to her breasts the moment she turned her head, and then down her long frame, not stopping their voyage until they landed on her red toes, peeking out from her patent-leather heels.  His pants tightened, and his gaze reset, reversed, and moved back up her body until his eyes were on hers again.

She was looking right back at him, an eyebrow raised from where she’d already scooted to the middle of the booth.

He cursed under his breath.  It was the millionth time this woman had caught him ogling her body.  He had a feeling she hated that about him and, for whatever reason, was biting that sweet tongue.

He held her eyes and slid into the booth, moving in close.  She let him.  Confusion seized him.  He couldn’t tell if she loved him, or
hated
him.  It seemed like she was sitting on an undecided pendulum, constantly swinging back and forth, and it was keeping him on his toes like Holyfield.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“I’m great.  Excited.”

She wasn’t great, or excited.

He knew it.  He could see it.  She was a good actress, but he knew an excited woman when one was sitting next to him.  He could
smell
it, but he couldn’t smell it on her.

Her indifference was like a fist to the nose. How was this girl throwing invisible punches?  Why were they landing?  Why didn’t she
like
him?

A busser dropped two glasses of water.  The server was there soon after to take their drink orders, and then they were alone once more.

“Finally have you to myself.”  He crossed his leg at the ankle and turned his body so he could face her.

She turned, too, crossing her legs toward him.

His eyes fell, riveted when the hem of her dress rose above her knee.  He reached out and ran his knuckle along her knee and up to the rapidly rising hem of her dress, his heart pounding the whole time.  He waited for that fist to the nose, cheering inwardly when she didn’t just allow him to touch her, but scooted in closer.  His stomach went warm.

The waitress came by and dropped their drinks.  A Manhattan for Leo and a pink martini he’d ordered for her.  They both lifted their drinks and took a sip, eyes widening at the same time.

“Do you like it?” he asked, setting his drink down.

“It’s delicious,” she said.  “I’m glad I let you order for me.”

He licked his lips, watching her manicured nails run the stem of her martini glass, wishing to God it was his dick.  “Not too sweet, not too bitter.  Right in between.  Just like you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“If you could see inside my head…”

She perked up, already in the middle of her third sip. “So…” she said, setting the glass down.  “I’ve never asked you what you do at Novsky.  I know Val is the CEO, Gary is Marketing VP, and Roman is…”

“CFO.  The wind under Novsky’s wings.”

“You guys must’ve been hurting without him.”

Leo met her eyes, frowning.  “How did you even know he left?”  He watched her eyes drop, the way they often did when she was thinking up an answer.  She did that a lot, especially when he pushed her on why she knew so much about him and his family.  Some part of him hoped she
was
some secret fan, some Romanovsky family stalker who was only pretending to be nonchalant.  It would make it much easier to get between her legs.

“Someone must have told me,” she said.  “Why did he go missing?”

He looked to his drink.  “He’s been saddled with some heavy stuff.  Stuff he didn’t ask for, and doesn’t deserve.” If she were any other employee, now would be when Leo started choosing his words more carefully, but he couldn’t do that with her.  “When Rome is distressed, he goes rogue.  He doesn’t want to talk about it.  He just wants to disappear until whatever is bothering him goes away.  Even when we were kids, if he was pissed at our parents, he could disappear for weeks at a time.”

“Where would he go?”

“All kinds of places.  He’s always been loved.   If he lost everything tomorrow, all his money, all his properties, every member of his family, he would still have plenty of soft places to land.”

“And if you lost everything tomorrow?  Money, properties, family?  Would you have a soft place to land?”

Leo smiled, thinking of the women who constantly roamed his apartment, slithered all over him, and worshiped the ground he walked on. He thought about how quickly those women would disappear if everything went away tomorrow—the money, the parties, and the drugs.

His eyes met hers.  “Maybe you can be my soft place.”

“We’re ten minutes into our first date, and you’ve already deemed me your potential soft place?”

He pushed his knuckle under the hem of her dress.  “Maybe you already are.”

She nodded around her martini glass as she took another sip.

“I would always have my family,” he said.  “If I lost everything.  They’ve seen the ugliest parts of me, from every angle, and they’re still around.  That’s all I need.”

She pretended to choke on her martini, looking to him with wide eyes as she set it down. “I’m sorry, the ugliest parts of you?  Do you even have
one
ugly part? Where?  Where is it?”

He laughed when she began searching the booth.  She lifted his arm as if he had an “ugly part” hidden under there.  She even went so far as to peek under the hem of his shirt, getting just enough of a glimpse of his abs to send a blush rushing to her cheeks.  He watched her pull away.  His stomach had left an impression, one so strong it made her stop her playful exploration.  He beamed with pride, thanking God for his decision to do an extra round of crunches at the gym that morning.

She took another sip of her drink, sneaking a look at him from the corner of her eye.

“I have lots of ugly parts,” he said.

She leaned one shoulder into the booth as she faced him.  “We all do.  Don’t beat yourself up.  I have ugly parts coming out of my ugly parts.”

Against every inch of his will, his eyes travelled her.  She definitely
did
not
have an ugly part.

“A more untrue statement has never been spoken, Miss Ashley Williams.”

This time, when he moved his knuckle along the hem of her dress, her eyes fell to watch.

When her gaze rose back to his, he held it, waiting for her to call him out.

She didn’t.  “And what’s your role at Novsky?”

Leo swirled his drink on the table with his free hand, keeping his knuckle on her, itching to take that thick thigh under his hand completely, squeeze it and move higher, until it was slipping along the lips of her heat.

He didn’t know why, but he knew she was wet.

“Chief Risk Officer,” he answered.

“What does that entail?”

“A lot of criminally boring things that make me want to kill myself daily.”

“Elaborate?”

His eyes fell to her lips, along each ear, down her cheeks, anywhere they could get.

Her eyes did the same to him.

“I refuse to put you to sleep talking about my boring job.”

She poked her bottom lip out.  “Please?”

He pictured that protruding lip dragging along the underside of his dick, and he was powerless.  “As CRO, my job is to make sure Novsky wins.”

“You call that boring?  That’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Thank you so much.”

She laughed.

His face grew serious.  That one had been real.  That laugh.  It was gorgeous on her.  Rare.

“So.”  Her smile slowly fell.  “Your job is to make sure Novsky wins.  What does that mean?”

“It means I hate to lose.”

“I already know that about you.  You’re nothing if not persistent.”

“Only if I’m after something worth my persistence. Novsky is my family’s company, and I would die to protect it.”

“What are you protecting it from?”

“Shareholders.  Competitors.  Itself.”

“Who’s Novsky’s biggest competitor?”

“I’m sure you’ve read the paper.”

“On his way out of your office the other day, I ran into Reggie King,” she said, confirming that she definitely
had
been reading the paper.  “He said that soon, Novsky will be his.”

“Val would die first.”

“Seems like you would, too.”

“I would.  Yeah.”  Leo shook his head at the thought of Reggie.  “Son of a bitch,” he grumbled.  “We always had his back, and this is how he treats us.”

She straightened.  “Had his back?”

Leo wondered if he should continue, then realized he had no idea how to hold back from her. “He used to spend every weekend at our house, some weekdays too. He used to cry, hysterically cry, when he had to go home.”

Her lips fell open.  “Your family was friends with the Kings?”

“Gary and Reggie were thick as thieves.  Dumb and dumber,” Leo laughed.  “You couldn’t tear them apart for nothing.  And whenever Reggie walked through our door with a busted lip, a swollen eye, or a broken jaw, Ma was always right there kissing his wounds and patching him up.”

“Broken jaw?”

“His father is not a very patient man.”

Her eyebrows lifted.  “How is it possible that child services never came for him?  The police?”

“Victor King
is
the police.”

“Wow. Poor Reggie.”

“No, not poor Reggie,” Leo said.  “Fuck Reggie.  He doesn’t know the true meaning of loyalty.”

“I think it’s human for Reggie to be loyal to his father, to want his love, even if it seems insane to everyone else.”

“After everything we did for him though?  Nothing.  Nothing in return.”

“Do you only give kindness in hope of a return?”

“We shouldn’t have to
ask
for a return.  It should just be.  That’s what loyalty is.  But instead of returning, Reggie sets out to destroy us.  To take from us.  And when he takes from us, he takes from our
mother, our father, our
family, people who would’ve never dreamed of hurting him the same way.  Fuck him.  I mean it...”

“I don’t think you do.  Your heart is too pure.”

Her words made it so, because his heart went to mush.  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

“Never.  I stay on my toes with you.”

“I guess I understand you feeling protective over a company you built with your own hands.”

“I didn’t build Novsky,” Leo said.  “Val did.  He just snatched all of us up on his way to the top.  My only job is to stop it from crashing into a brick wall it doesn’t know is there.”

“Why try to stop it?  Don’t you have to risk crashing if you’re ever going to succeed?”

“I take risks all the time.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He shifted. “You really go all the way in, don’t you?  Usually, on a first date, the questions are more along the lines of… dogs or cats?
Friends
or
Frasier
? Bacon or sausage? You’re digging deep.”

“Dogs,
Friends,
and sausage, obviously.”

“Girl.  Cats,
Frasier,
bacon.”

“Cats?” She beamed.  “Bacon?  This will never work.”

He laughed.

“Who cares about that crap,” she said.  “I want the dirt.  I want the guts.  So tell me what kind of risks you take, Leo, because I’m not convinced you actually do.”

“I’m taking a risk sitting here with you right now.”

She shifted again.

“I took the risk of asking you out, didn’t I?” he asked. The truth was, Ashley Williams was the biggest risk he’d taken in a long time, because he didn’t know how to read her.  Even at that moment, sitting so close to her he could count her eyelashes, with his hand on her thigh, he still felt off-balance.  Like he was one wrong word away from losing her forever.

“I’d hardly call myself a risk,” she said.

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’m a complete wreck around you.”  His voice lowered.  “I don’t think you have any idea how terrifying you are.”