She began making her way to her desk, but realized she wasn’t finished. “And it’s not even like you’re a dumb hot guy. You have the god damn nerve to be smart, too.”
“I’m not so smart.” He shrugged.
“Oh please. You think I don’t know that you were Val’s right hand man at Novsky? You think I don’t know why he’s suffering so much without you? You were the brains of that whole operation.”
“That’s not true, at all.”
“Where did you go to school?”
He hesitated. “Harvard Business.”
She turned away from him without another word. “So irritating. Of course you went to Harvard.”
“Yeah, well where did you go? Huh? Some excessively liberal state school that pushed their Environmental Science program, and served tofu in the cafeteria?”
She smacked her lips as she climbed all over stacks of boxes and files to get to her desk. “For your information, I never finished college.”
“Oh, okay.” He bit his lip, trying to hide his smile, but it snuck out from the corner. “That’s better, then.”
She threw him a smile of her own as she plopped down at her desk.
“Irritating,” she mumbled, more quietly this time, as she started up her computer. “For your information, I knew that college would be a waste of money. I have everything I need right here.” She held her arms out grandly, presenting her office in much the same way a queen would present her castle and jewels.
He looked over both shoulders, apparently searching for anything that wasn’t covered in a film of dirt and dust, then back to her. He pointed at the floor. “I’m sorry, are you referring to this office? The one with no sign, and bullet holes casing the door?”
She almost threw her keyboard at him. “Don’t come up in my space being all judge-y, Mr. I-went-to-Harvard.”
“Why are you so mad at Harvard? Who hurt you?” Still unable to wipe the smirk from his face as he stole her words, he nodded his head toward the door. “You need a sign.”
“You’re a fixer. That’s the Harvard in you. I don’t need a sign. This is not my first rodeo okay, my friend? I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you, Angie Colt?” He took a step closer. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
The question was a weighted one, and she knew he was no longer talking about some sign on her door. The truth was, outside of her work, she really didn’t have any idea what the hell she was doing. He’d gotten a taste of just how little in his bedroom a few nights before, when he’d made her cum with a few cleverly timed flicks of his thick fingers.
Her eyes fell to his hand when she felt him looking at her in much the same way she’d been at him, with heat growing in his eyes.
“I don’t need a sign,” she finally croaked, eyes still on that big hand and those long, thick fingers, imagining just how many more tricks they might’ve have had up their sleeve. Snapping herself back to reality, she met his eyes once more. “The kind of business I do isn’t flashy. My clients wouldn’t want it that way. For some reason, people prefer their private investigators to be a little… slimy. Too much polish makes them distrustful. They want slime, so that’s what I give them. Plus, it’s all I can afford, so it works out.” She ruffled her curls softly. “What are you doing here?”
He took his time watching her move, naked appreciation lightening his eyes. “I’m not very accustomed to a woman… sneaking out on me in the middle of the night. In fact…” He swirled his fingers in a circular motion. “It’s usually the other way around…”
Angie ran a hand down the back of her neck, pretending to be entranced by something on her computer screen. She could feel her cheeks growing hot, however, betraying her cool demeanor. She watched Roman look around her office, again, which could only be described as shoe-box-small.
It was really small, even for New York. Her raggedy oak desk took up half the room all on it’s own. It was piled high with scattered folders and files. Two chairs—each a different style and color than the other—faced it. At the far end of the room was a row of beat up filing cabinets. She could see him judging every inch of her space before his eyes landed squarely on her, and softened.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. He was making her blush, and it was mortifying.
“Why did you leave the other night?” he asked, the small frown in his eyes proving that hers wasn’t the only body in the room betraying her emotions.
“I don’t know,” she lied.
He made his way to a gold placard on the back of her door. It was hanging down by one screw. With his pointer finger, he pushed the engraved plaque upright.
“Tread lightly in your search for the truth,” he read. “Or you just might find it.”
“It’s my motto, but I would never be arrogant enough to put it on a placard. Zoey had it made for me back in high school. I still haven’t figured out if it was a genuine gift, or if she was mocking me.”
He gave her a look. “If I know Zoey—and I definitely do… It’s the latter.”
Angie pointed to the placard. “I don’t think a day went by in high school where those words didn’t come out of my mouth at least once. It’s a miracle Zoey didn’t murder me. She must have been so sick of hearing it.” When he focused his gaze back on her, she realized she was rambling. “It’s what I tell all of my clients before I take on any of their cases. Tread lightly in your search for the truth...” she said, dramatically. “Lots of people come to me looking for the truth, but very few people are prepared when they actually find it.” Her eyes fell to his hands, and she was instantly imaging them doing filthy things, once more.
The familiar tug of ecstasy began to boil to life inside of her, the one reserved especially for him, so she said something, anything, to distract herself.
“Do you think you’re prepared, Roman? To find your biological father?”
He continued fingering her placard. “Your motto should be upright. Do you have tools? I could fix it for you.”
Angie threw him a look, aware that he was dodging her question. “Do I look like I have tools?”
He chortled.
“I’m going to start calling you Mr. Fixit. Such a fixer. Don’t worry about my placard. Let’s focus on you.”
She sat up tall when he suddenly moved across the room, his long legs getting him to her desk in seconds. He ran his fingers over the top of the wood as he moved, until he was looming over her, casting a shadow as he leaned against the desk next to her, his blue eyes boring down into hers.
“I’ll bring you some,” he said.
Angie looked up from where she was shuffling through some papers, pretending that she wasn’t currently imagining his face between her legs. “Hm? Bring what?”
“Tools. Next time I’m around...”
Her heart soared and screamed all at once. Roman Romanovsky was planning on being around. Around her. She was suddenly aware that this was impossible. It was impossible for her to do a professional job for a man that was having this succinct an impact on her.
“Why did you leave the other night?”
She was surprised when he asked her, again. It was really bothering him that she’d snuck out without saying goodbye. She had half a mind to be flattered, and found herself wondering how a woman who was seasoned in the ways of men this beautiful would react to his probing. Would she tell him the truth? Be coy? Somewhat evasive?
Angie wished she knew how to be evasive, but it was difficult when he was looking at her the way he was right then. She couldn’t hold back, not even if she wanted to, and the word coy had never been in her vocabulary.
So she told the truth. A truth that had her crashing back down to planet earth with a quickness. Seeing him unexpectedly that morning had brought her entire body to life, making her forget about the million and one distractions that always made a habit of swirling around in her head, including the troubling footage she’d seen just days before. He had the power to bring all the madness in her hea
d to a complete halt, even if only for a few flirtatious moments, but now she was back--thinking, dissecting, analyzing all the little balls of information floating around in her head.
Then, just like that, the image of Marcus and Pansy’s lifeless bodies flying popped into her head, and it occurred to her just how correct her motto was. Most people weren’t ready to know the truth.
Herself included.
“I left because I got a lead in Zoey’s case. You were still asleep when it came through.”
“You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve driven you.”
“It was a secure location. I had to go alone.” Jessica was barely tolerating her now. If Angie had brought Roman to their covert meeting spot in Jersey, it would have spelled the end of their professional relationship forever, and she couldn’t afford to lose Jessica. Even if she didn’t feel the same way, Angie didn’t just consider Jessica an invaluable business liaison, but also a friend. Sure, it was a very combative, perhaps slightly one-sided friendship, but a friendship never-the-less. One Angie wasn’t willing to put on the line.
“So you got on the subway in the dead of night, to get to some clandestine location… probably in the middle of nowhere? That doesn’t sound dangerous, at all.”
“Calm down, Fixit. I’m still alive, am I not?”
“Are you aware that you’re 5 feet tall? Hundred pounds?” He frowned down at her. “I mean… are you?”
“My height has nothing to do with my brain or my will, okay? People underestimate me all the time because of my size, which is what makes it my greatest strength.”
Roman’s eyebrows shot up. He even leaned away from her slightly, not having been prepared for that kind of conviction.
“If you knew half of the things I’ve done over the course of my career, you’d know that a ride on the subway comes dead last on my list of things to worry about.”
“You are all fired up,” Roman teased, a smile touching his lips. “It’s hot.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled.
“You really don’t know you’re five feet tall, do you? There’s a lioness lingering in there somewhere.” He tugged playfully at her t-shirt.
“Sorry if I got defensive. It’s just… This case means everything to me, and it was a pretty huge lead. I couldn’t wait.”
“What happened to tread lightly in your search for the truth?”
She looked up at him. “I don’t know how to tread lightly when it comes to my best friend. Which is probably why I still haven’t solved this case. Why I managed to make such a ridiculous oversight for ten years. I’m too involved. I’m way too emotionally involved in it’s outcome.”
“Why don’t you hire a fresh eye? Some outside help?”
“I told you.” She squinted. “I don’t play well with others.”
“Not in my experience.”
She exhaled. “Roman…”
His smile slowly subdued. “I had a good time with you the other night.”
Her stomach rolled. “Me too.” If he kept smiling at her like that, they were bound to finish what they’d started the other night, right there on her desk.
“It was interesting to watch you let go like that.” His eyes fell to her hand, and he brushed his knuckle down the back of it, slowly.
“I’m great at letting go.”
Still stroking her hand, his eyes jumped back to hers, laced with laughter. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve certainly never seen it. Not until the other night, anyway.” He laughed as her eyebrows knit together. “You’re proving my point right now. It’s like you’re here, but at the same time, you’re not. It’s almost like you don’t know how to turn this off…” He tapped her temple softly. “Not for one second.”
“Drew used to say that to me all the time. Maybe he was right about me all along.”
“Yeah, well, Drew’s a fucking asshole.”
Angie shifted in her seat as her body continued to respond to him against her will. Self control be damned, Roman was clearly at the wheel when it came to her body, her pounding heart, her trembling knees, the blood gushing through her veins and straight to her center. There was a reason she’d been such a lousy lay for so many years. It was because she’d yet to find a man that made her feel the way Roman was making her feel right then. Like she wanted to put product in her hair, throw on some mascara, and iron her clothes. Three things she hadn’t been bothered to do all day.
Some part of her had the succinct feeling that Roman Romanovsky knew exactly what he was doing to her at the moment--hell, what he’d been doing to her for the last ten years. And he was enjoying it far too much.
She almost split the pen in her hand. “Drew might be an asshole, but he wasn’t totally wrong about me.”
“Not possible.”
“What’s not possible?”
“It’s not possible that he’s right.”
“He wouldn’t be the first to say something like that to me. I’m just… not a sexual person.”
“Angie… I saw you the other night.” He waited for her eyes to meet his. “I saw you.”
When had she stopped breathing? She wasn’t sure, but when it finally came down to breathe or die, Angie finally inhaled sharply.
“He’s dead wrong.” His voice had gone strong, almost angry. “I see you. And I’d like to keep… seeing you. Preferably without you sneaking out on me the next morning.”
A ringtone suddenly filled the quiet air, startling them both.
Roman exhaled while placing his hand over his pocket, muffling the sound.
She motioned to his pocket where the phone continued to ring. “Are you going to answer that?”
“Nope.”
She cut her eyes at the change in his tone.
So he explained it. “It’s my mother. Or my father. One of my brothers. Don’t really want to hear from any of them,” he said, watching her face change. “They’re going to leave a five minute message cussing me out, and I’m not in the mood for that right now. This is a good day.” His eyes fell to their hands, which were both gripping her desk, perhaps more tightly than necessary, side by side. “I’d like to keep it that way.”
Angie leaned forward on her desk and frowned into the distance, head swirling.
“Stop thinking so much,” he said.
She looked back up at him. “Roman… what you’re asking me to do, finding your real father? That’s a huge thing. An emotional thing. You’re going to need people.”
“I’m fine.”
The ringing finally stopped, and she couldn’t hold back. “I don’t feel like you’re prepared for what could happen. Say I find your biological father…” She paused. “And I will find him… Say I find him, and he doesn’t react to you in a positive way? What if he says or does something to hurt you?”
His eyes shifted, and he moved his hand away from hers, running his palms down the front of his pants before allowing his head to fall. “Is this my tread lightly speech?”
Angie tilted her head to the side, then went on softly. “You should have seen the look on Val’s face when he heard I was working with you. He looked about ready to cry. I understand why you’re angry at your parents, but your brothers, too? Why allow yourself to suffer without them, when they’re just as stunned by all of this as you are? They can help you through this, Roman.” Angie held her hands out in front of her when he didn’t respond. “How about this? I want you to think about how you imagined the interaction going when you see your biological father for the first time. Think about the scenario that you’ve concocted in your head, and then reverse it completely. Imagine the worst case scenario… and what that’ll do to you on an emotional level.” She could see his face changing. “You need people.”
His eyes finally met hers.
She knew she was playing on thin ice. As much as he tried to deny it, his brothers were his biggest weakness. It was all over him. Why he was so eager to deny it was beyond her.
“I don’t
need anyone,” he said.
Angie sat back in her chair, licking her lips. At this point, if he were anyone else, she would have shown Roman the door. Told him to find someone else to look for his father. He wasn’t ready.
People like him came to her all the time. People who’d become obsessed, who’d alienated everyone in their life, people on the verge of complete emotional collapse. No man was an island, and the ones who convinced themselves they were always crashed the hardest.
She now understood why he was so bothered that she’d left him in the middle of the night. He needed a body, any body, to fill the void his family had left in his heart. The fact that she’d disappeared without so much as a goodbye strummed at some piece of him that was still raw, some part of him he wasn’t ready to explore.
Her eyes went to him, but she bit her tongue. People in his state weren’t ready to know the truth, because while the truth certainly had the power to heal, it also had the power to destroy. It was a gamble Angie didn’t like to take.
Roman finally stood from the desk. “I still haven’t paid you.”
She watched him stand, noting that his entire demeanor had changed. His voice was harder, posture straightened, eyes cold as ice.
His eyes went hard as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He couldn’t even look at her as he fingered through it. “Do you take credit?”
Angie stood, as well, shaking her head. “We already discussed this. You’re my best friend’s brother. I won’t charge you.”
His eyes went to her parted lips, but didn’t rise to meet her own. Just like that, his gaze was back on the wallet. “You don’t even have a sign on your door. This place is a dump. You need this money.” This time, he did look at her, eyes vacant as he trapped a black card between his fingers, holding it up in the air between them.
Claiming Roman Page 8
