Claiming Roman

by Trevion Burns

  Angie trusted her gut, and something was wrong.

  It killed her that she didn’t know what.

  As she approached the door of her office, still frowning, she nodded hello to the Pakistani father and son in the mini-market next door. They gave an obligatory wave back. Not the warmest people by a long shot, but they let her rent the space at a bargain, so she showed respect regardless.

  The small smile lingered on her face as she moved her gaze to the door of her office, steeling herself in preparation for the daily battle it took to get the heavy son of a bitch open.

  But the sight before her stopped her in her tracks.

  Gleaming at her from the middle of her raggedy door was a massive, sterling silver placard that gleamed against the morning sun.

  Approaching her door with a look of disbelief, she ran her fingers delicately over the words that were engraved across the silver plaque in bold script.

  COLT INVESTIGATIONS

  Tread lightly…

  Angie brought a trembling hand up to her mouth and, for the first time since the night before, laughed heartily as she took in the lustrous sign.

  It was beautiful, attention stealing, completely out of place in her broke down Harlem neighborhood—hell, completely out of place in her world.

  It screamed Roman Romanovsky.

  With a smile plastered to her face, she took her phone out of her bag and dialed his number.

  He answered on the first ring.

  “Is it too flashy? I know you hate flash.”

  Angie’s body instantly surrendered to the white-hot chaos that always exploded inside her whenever she heard his voice. She yearned for the sound like a cat in heat. The deep bass of it traveled through the phone and all the way down into her skinny jeans, fluttering against her pounding center with the cool ease it always did. Her clit throbbed just knowing he was on the other end of that line. She usually only disappeared into the disgusting thoughts he inspired in her mind when he was in the same room with her. Now it was happening over the phone.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, surprised when embarrassing tears stung her eyes. She was really about to cry, over a sign.

  “Hopefully it won’t drive away too many of your clients. The ones who prefer slime over shine.” His laugh was shy, soft… smooth in a way that few had the honor of hearing.

  And there it was, again. Just like that. Her breathing spiked. Her panties were drenched. Her biggest problems suddenly seemed insignificant. No man had ever made her body do the things it did for him. She wondered if he knew. He must have.

  “You didn’t have to do this.”

  A long pause came from his end. “I was a real asshole the other day. I overreacted.”

  “Do you always say you’re sorry with shiny gifts?”

  “Only when I’m too proud to say the actual words.”

  She laughed.

  “Can you meet me for lunch?”

  “Not right now.”

  “I’m still on time out?”

  “I have a lot of work to get done. I’m very close to finding your father.”

  “Are you now?”

  “Very close. I just have to follow up on a few more--”

  “Tonight then.”

  Angie froze in the middle of unlocking her office door. “What?”

  “Meet me tonight. At Kaleidoscope.”

  She frowned in amusement as she pushed open the door to her office, surprised when it didn’t give her any trouble for once.

  “Kaleidoscope? Isn’t that a--”

  “Gay bar, yes.” He waited. “I’ll be there around 9.”

  “I’ll see if I can make it.” Angie knew damn well she would be there, any excuse to be around him, but she managed to play it cool.

  “I hope you do.”

  ***

  Henry leaned into Roman from where they sat side-by-side at the bar. Kaleidoscope was a massive nightclub, one of the largest in the city, but managed to stay filled to the hilt with wall-to-wall people every night. People from all walks of life, women, men, black, white and purple all grinded to the relentless pounding of 80s music as heavy smoke floated relentlessly, dissolved only by the multicolored strobe lights that seemed to be in the dancing hands of every patron in the building. One of Cher’s classic hits blasted through the room without relent, with enough power to feel like it was coming from every possible direction.

  “Okay,” Henry said into Roman’s ear. “Nine o’clock, the bear with the tats.”

  Roman grinned softly into his rocks glass, where one last swallow of bourbon swirled. The topless bartender couldn’t have been a day over eighteen, and was watching Roman like an eager vulture, ready for the moment he finished that last swallow so he could eagerly refill it, and hit on Roman for the millionth time that night. Roman was used to it. With a gay best friend, he’d learned very early in life that the words ‘I’m not gay’ did nothing to dissuade a gay male that wanted him. If anything, it only encouraged them more.

  Swirling the glass under his fingers, he followed Henry’s hungry eyes in the nine o’clock direction, and caught sight of the “tattooed bear” that his best friend had spotted. He looked back to Henry, finishing off the last of his bourbon. Sure enough, the baby bartender was right there, refilling his glass while watching Roman with suggestive eyes.

  Roman nodded towards the bear. “You definitely have a type,” he said to Henry.

  “You know I like them old. And jiggly.”

  “He looks like somebody’s father.”

  “I know right.” Henry bit his pointer finger between his teeth.

  Roman hissed out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink when his friend nudged him from the side.

  “Will you help me out?” Henry begged. “You know I would do it for you.”

  “And when have you ever helped me land a woman?”

  Henry scoffed. “It’s not my fault that you’re outrageously picky, with ridiculous standards. The fifth avenue snobs that make your dick hard would never look twice at a twink like me.”

  “Don’t try to guilt me with that fake ass ‘I have low self esteem’ spiel. We both know you’re in love with yourself.”

  Henry flipped a piece of hair that wasn’t there. “I am fabulous, aren’t I?” he breathed, before sobering up. “Just one last time, Rome. Please!”

  “You know how much I hate this.”

  “Look here, not all of us are blessed with the face and body of an angel, Romanovsky. It’s not like it hurts you any. I’m just asking you to lure the guy over with your stupid, perfect face, and then I can win him over with my sparkling personality. Come on, one last time. For me.” Henry batted his lashes at Roman.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. Only if you swear to never bat your eyes at me like that again.”

  Henry took his arm with a squeal. “That’s why I love your ass,” he beamed.

  With a deep sigh, Roman looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with the tattooed bear that had caught Henry’s attention. Neither of them was surprised to see the bear looking back, eyes traveling Roman’s body as he swayed to the music with his hands over his head. Roman caught his gaze, and held it. The bear rose his eyebrows and nodded with a smile. Roman raised a single eyebrow back.

  And, just like that, the tattooed bear began making his way through the crowd, nearly toppling club goers over in his haste to get to Roman.

  Roman turned back to his drink, unmoved, taking another sip.

  “Every. Time.” Henry shook his head in dismay. “Seriously. What is it like to be so worshipped, without having to do a god damn thing to earn it?”

  Roman smirked at Henry as the bear came up behind him.

  “Hi there, handsome.”

  Roman swirled in the bar seat, feigning surprise. “Hi,” he beamed, raising his eyebrows, as if he had no idea why this strange bear had made his way over.

  “Cliff.” The bear offered his hand.

  Roman took it. “Roman.”

  “I noticed yo
u noticing me…” Cliff licked his lips a little too suggestively. “Roman.”

  “Oh.” Roman feigned surprise. “I’m very sorry.” He looked to Henry, and they shared the eyes of two people who’d been running the same scam together for years, before turning back to Cliff. “Sorry, man, but I’m not gay.” Roman motioned to his chest as he said the words. He didn’t miss the way Cliff’s eyes lit up even more, excited for the added challenge of bagging the straight boy, but he motioned behind him before the bear got any ideas. “But my friend Henry here… gay. Really gay, actually. Gay as the sky is blue. And single.”

  Cliff’s eyes went over Roman’s shoulder and landed on Henry.

  Moment of truth. Roman and Henry had run this game a million times, and one of two things always happened. Either the guy looked at Henry, and deemed him fuckable… or they didn’t.

  Tonight, thankfully, it was the former.

  Roman watched the stars in Henry’s eyes as Cliff made his way over, happy to go back to his bourbon as the two quickly got into a rousing discussion about Love and Hip Hop Atlanta.

  Against all his better judgment, Roman found himself looking over his shoulder once more, towards the door of the bar.

  He’d always been great at playing it cool. The exchange with Cliff was proof of that.

  But staring at that door, waiting for Angie Colt to come through it, made him feel the farthest thing from cool.

  He was anxious. Damn near thirsty. Hungry for her in the same way most of the men in that bar seemed hungry for him. In a way he never had been for any woman.

  He hoped she’d come, because tonight he planned to finish what they’d started in his bedroom the week before.

  He was going to prove to Angie Colt just how wrong that asshole Drew had been about her. Prove that he could make her cum, again and again.

  A thousand times if she’d let him.

  She just had to show up.

  Then, just like that, there she was.

  He caught sight of her, at the entrance, just as she was taking off her all-winter coat to reveal a fitted black tank top, skinny jeans, and pointy-toed heels. It was easily the most dressed up he’d ever seen Angie Colt.

  And it was more than he could bear.

  His nerves forced his eyes away from the door when she turned in his direction, and he pretended to be entranced by his drink.

  Henry watched his friend with a suspicious squint of his eye. Roman was never one to feign calm, cool, collectedness. That was something he usually accomplished naturally.

  Now he was doing everything he could to look down at his drink, over at the bartender, at the dirt under his nails, anything but the one thing he was actually dying to look at.

  It wasn’t until Angie Colt pressed her elbows into the bar next to Roman, sighing dramatically, that Roman finally allowed himself to look at her, and acknowledge her presence.

  Keeping an arm slung tightly around the bear’s shoulders, Henry leaned over the bar, catching Angie’s eyes with a very ‘bitch I underestimated you’ twinkle in his eye. She’d done the impossible. She’d snatched the calm, the cool, and the collected straight out of Roman’s hands, and didn’t appear to have any plans on giving them back.

  “Well hello, little lamb,” Henry called.

  Angie went to greet Henry, as well, but Roman spoke before she could.

  “Oh, this one’s no lamb.” Roman eyed her. “Don’t let the height fool you. This ones a lion.”

  “Lioness,” she corrected, taking a seat at the bar next to Roman.

  “I guess,” Henry said, with a roll of his eye.

  Angie caught the playful wink he threw at her before he turned his full attention back to his heavily tattooed new friend.

  “Who’s that?” Angie whispered to Roman as she eyed Cliff. “And why’s he looking at me like he wants to rip my eyeballs out, and hang them in his freezer?”

  “He wants me. I told him I was straight. I guess he’s still not over it.”

  “You must have led him on.”

  “Never.”

  “Such a tease.”

  “Maybe.” He grinned. “I would never tease you though.” His hooded eyes hit hers.

  “The hell you wouldn’t. Yeah, I was drunk last week, but even heavily inebriated... I know a tease when I’m in bed with one.”

  “Trust me, I stopped myself, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do. Staying in control with you that night was… challenging. Beyond comprehension.”

  Angie couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across her face. “But you did.”

  “Barely,” he said. “I won’t let you get that drunk tonight.”

  Her mouth fell. “Just what do you think is going to happen tonight?”

  “You tell me.”

  Angie cut her eye at him, catching his shy smile before she moved her gaze over to the tattooed man. He watched her with curious eyes. Yep. Definitely jealousy. Jealousy, laced with a hint of confusion over how a girl like her had managed to bag a guy like Roman. It was a question Angie had barely managed to answer her damn self, so she couldn’t blame him for being curious.

  “Take off your coat, get comfortable.” Roman said, attempting to flag down the bartender that had been on top of him all night. The bartender tossed his head with a humph, and Roman’s friendly wave was all but ignored. Roman hissed. It seemed having Angie next to him was going to make it ten times harder to get a drink. Gay men were certainly a jealous breed. He turned his attention back to her. “I’m glad you came.”

  “My curiosity got the better of me.” Angie laughed. “I’ve never been to a gay club before.”

  “An experience you’re not likely to forget.”

  “I’ve already had my tit grabbed, my ass slapped, and my cheek pinched. And that was just on the way from the door to the bar. Trust me, if I know anything by now, I know this is going to be an interesting night.”

  “That it is.”

  “Thank you for my new sign. I really love it.”

  He fought a smile. “I thought you didn’t need a sign.”

  “I hear ‘you’re welcome’ works, too.” She watched him blush. “Are you always this bad at accepting thank yous, Fixit?”

  His smile grew. “You’re welcome. Alright? It was the least I could do after the way I acted.”

  She waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Nah…” He watched the liquid in his drink slosh as he swirled his glass. “You were right. I’ve been punishing my brothers for no reason. Punishing them for something they didn’t do.”

  “It’s hard for you to be around them. I get it.” Angie shrugged. “I should have been more sensitive to what you’re dealing with. It was unprofessional of me to push you the way I did.”

  “You were right,” he said, again, his eyes going deeper. “And I needed to hear it. I don’t--I mean, I hope… I hope you won’t ever stop… being honest with me. Maybe I need that.”

  She studied him. “Maybe.” This time, it was her turn to crane her neck in search of the missing bartender.

  “So, you going to let me take you home tonight?” he asked.

  Her eyes shot back to his.

  “Finish what we started?” he offered.

  “Roman… we’re friends.”

  “Friends can enjoy each other.”

  “Not in the way I think you’re imagining.”

  “Why not?”

  Angie looked for the bartender once more, as if desperate for a drink. “Because it would get in the way of the real reason I decided to come here tonight.”

  “Oh yeah? And what’s that? What’s the real reason?”

  She looked back at him, pausing.

  “I found him, Roman.” Angie watched the smile on his lips disintegrate, before raising her eyes slowly to his. “I found your father.”

  7

  Ten minutes later, having left Cliff and Henry locked in a make-out session at Kaleidoscope, Roman held open the door to his loft. He smiled as Angie audibl
y groaned the moment she stepped inside the heated apartment.

  “God, it feels so good in here.” She hurried to the massive island in the middle of his kitchen, taking a seat in one of his barstools. She dropped her bag onto the black granite, noting how well it blended with the dark cherry cabinets, and unwrapped her scarf as Roman made his way into the kitchen. He circled the island, watching her from the opposite side.

  “You hungry?” he asked, shrugging off his black trench coat and throwing it down next to her bag.

  The action caused his scent to surround her, and Angie gave him a look while she pulled the files out of her bag. She was convinced this man was always completely aware of what he was doing to her. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  “Do you want to know his name?” she asked.

  Grateful that she knew him well enough to know he was dying to get to the point, Roman hurried over to the island, leaning against it.

  “Yes,” he said, staring at the files. His eyes rose to hers. “No,” he corrected, frowning softly. “Shit, I don’t know what the hell I want.”

  Angie went to respond, but was cut short when a loud beep rang through his apartment. His deep, slightly raspy voice rang into the air.

  “This is Roman. You know what to do.”

  It was his answering machine. “I didn’t hear a phone ring,” Angie said, frowning softly. “And who in god’s name has a physical answering machine anymore?”

  Roman was already turning away from her, pulling open the French doors of his stainless steel fridge. “I unplugged the phone a while ago. I guess I forgot to unplug the answering machine, too.” He came out of the fridge with two beers, setting one in front of her.

  Angie watched him open his bottle, then hers, with ease. “Why would you unplug your phone?” she asked, just as a female voice came withering out of the machine.

  “Roman… it’s Mom. Honey please, please call me. It’s been… it’s been nearly two months. My heart is shredded without you, honey. And I know that’s dramatic. You always say I’m too dramatic, but… I’m shredded… because I know you’re hurting. I hate that you’re hurting. I hate myself for that. Please, Roman. I’m so sorry.”