Roman (The Clutch Series Book 1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

  After ten minutes and no bellhop, I contemplate climbing over the edge of the balcony and Spidermaning my way down to the front desk, but death isn’t high on my priority list right now. No, now I want to find and kill the person who did this to me.

  “I give up.” I pull my jacket over my face and blindly head toward my door, hitting my head when I don’t stop in time. In the hall, the air is somewhat better, but not enough to stop the reaction. Inside the elevator, my reflection scares me. My face is red, eyes are puffy, and my nose is enlarged from the constant rubbing I’m doing. “I don’t know who hates me so much to do this!” I cry out, adding more insult to injury.

  When I reach the bottom floor, I stalk toward the concierge, pointing to my face. “This! Do you see this face? What does it say when you pull up my suite? I’m pretty sure it’s in bold letters that Ms. Weston is allergic to flowers, and only plants should be allowed upstairs. So tell me why my apartment is full of flowers that make me look like this?”

  “Ahem.”

  I turn at the sound of a throat clearing to find Roman, the stalker vampire standing behind me with a bouquet of roses in his hands. They’re red and beautiful, and part of me wants to take them from him, but the other part, the angry part, steps forward and looks at him through my squinted watery eyes and reaches for the flowers. Roman hands them over with a smile.

  “I hate you!” I say as I bash him over the head repeatedly with the flowers. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

  In his defense, he stands there and takes the beating, never flinching. Somewhere behind me, the staff is chuckling, and they’re lucky there aren’t more flowers at my quick disposal because I’d beat them as well.

  11

  Roman

  As I wait in the lobby, I can’t help but be pleased with myself. I’ve not only showered her with gifts, but I’ve also paid attention. All the things I’m certain she likes. Suddenly, a blonde tornado flies out of the elevator yelling and throwing her hands in the air violently. When she catches my attention, she rushes at me like a Viking shield maiden. Her long locks swing violently behind her as she approaches, and when she grabs the flowers from my hand, I realize she is not happy, at all.

  As she batters me with the roses, I take the hits, completely unsure of what they’re for. When the area is sufficiently strewn with rose petals, and she’s no longer thrashing the stems at me, she stops, huffing and wheezing before me.

  “Why would you do this to me?” she demands as tears and snot run down her face.

  “I thought it would make you happy,” I reply calmly, grabbing a handkerchief from my pocket. A habit I picked up many years ago, I almost always had one with me, even though I rarely needed it.

  She slams the tattered stems on a nearby counter and takes the handkerchief from me, wiping her eyes and nose. “You thought poisoning me was something I would like? What the hell is wrong with you, Roman?”

  Realizing now my research wasn’t nearly as thorough as I’d thought, I make a note to think about human ailments in the future. Who would have thought that a room full of beautiful flowers would do this to her? Certainly not me. “Fiona, I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you,” I plead, attempting to take her hand.

  She snatches her hand back quickly. “I think I’ve had just about enough of you.” She turns to the nearby staff, all staring at her now. “Please send someone up to remove the flowers from my suite. Send them over to the church on Second Avenue.”

  “I had no idea they would have this… effect on you. I am truly sorry that my gesture took a turn. Please, let me do something.” I do feel like an ass now, and I’m really not sure how to fix this other than to take her someplace where there are no flowers so she can recover from the episode. Allergies aren’t something I’ve ever dealt with in my lifetime; I can’t recall a time where a woman didn’t adore receiving them.

  “Roman.” She sneezes into my handkerchief. “Roman, I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing. I already told you that I can’t help you. My father isn’t going to sign your papers. So, buying me a bunch of gifts, even if the flowers I am deathly allergic to were well-meaning, doesn’t change anything. I think you should just go.”

  The thing is, her tone doesn’t suggest I should go. Her puffy swollen eyes, now bluer than the Greek Isles, are saying something completely different. They’re asking me to give her a reason I should stay. I fondle the jewelry box in my pocket that contains the ankh necklace I purchased earlier. It’s clear that now isn’t the right time to give it to her. That one I’ll wait on. It deserves the perfect moment, and this surely isn’t it.

  “Fiona, let’s get some fresh air. You can’t go to your apartment while they’re cleaning it out, so how about a walk?”

  She gives me an apprehensive look, but finally nods and walks with me silently. Once we get outside into the fresh air, she takes a deep breath. She appears to be less affected by the allergens now, but before I have the opportunity to apologize again, she begins.

  “What were you thinking, Roman? Honestly? What’s with all the stuff? I don’t need any of it, and getting me things isn’t going to change the fact that I can’t help you.” She appears exasperated and heaves out a breath.

  “Honestly, I was just trying to win your affections.”

  “Win my affections? What on earth for?”

  “Because I like you, Fiona. Isn’t it obvious?”

  “What’s obvious, is that you did your research about me. Not enough obviously, or you wouldn’t have tried to kill me today. I may seem like some high society idiot, but I’m not! You can’t buy me, Roman, and you better not compel me either.” Her face is serious, which troubles me.

  I stop her, grabbing her arm and looking at her directly, so I’m sure I have her full attention. “Listen to me, Fiona,” I say sternly. “I did not try to kill you. In the beginning, yes, I was trying to get your help, and I may have resorted to looking into you a bit, but that isn’t why I sent you the gifts.” Crossing her arms and meeting my stare, she watches as my lips move.

  “Why did you get me all those gifts?”

  “As a sign of affection,” I admit. In retrospect, I can see that it was too much.

  “Affection?”

  “You said yourself that you’re not a stupid woman. Can you not tell when a man is interested in you?” I ask, a smirk forming.

  As she squints at me, I can see her lips beginning to form what looks like a smile. “This doesn’t make any sense, Roman.”

  “Why not? Because you wear a cross? All that means is that I’m not to compel you, and I respect your decision. However, it doesn’t mean I cannot desire you. It just means it has to be your choice. I’ve never tried to be anything I’m not with you. I would like for you to see the real me, Fiona.”

  Her hand raises to the cross she wears, and as she gently fondles it, I hope that she’s thinking about what I’ve said as her face flushes. I can hear her heartbeat picking up, and before she has a chance to run away, I decide to change the subject and show her I’m more than the research she has done on vampires. Just like she has shown me.

  “Come, I’d like to show you something.”

  “You’re not going to take me back to your lair are you?” she asks.

  “Not today. I have something else I’d like to show you,” I reply, ignoring her sarcasm completely.

  I hail us a cab and open the door for her to climb in the back before me. I can’t help but notice her perfect ass in front of me and fuck if I don’t want to take her back to my lair, as she calls it. A penthouse apartment of my own actually, but she can call it whatever the fuck she wants. I give the driver an address, as we take off toward the south end of the Strip.

  “Where are we going?” she asks softly.

  “I know you read my proposal, and I’d like to show you something.”

  “Roman, I already told you that I can’t help –”

  I interrupt her. “I’m not taking you there becau
se I think you can help me. I’m taking you there, so you’ll begin to understand that I’m a man with more to him than fangs. I have a heart. I am capable of empathy, of philanthropy… of love.” That last one leaves me trailing from my own sermon. I don’t love her, not yet, but something about her makes me think I could. That I will. It’s not something I can describe in particular detail; however, I’m certain she needs to see me as more than the folklore she’s been brainwashed to believe. She needs to see the real me.

  As we pull up to the brick building, I pay the driver and get out of the taxi, holding my hand for Fiona. To my surprise, and my pleasure, she takes it as she slides out onto the street, staring at the building before us.

  “Is this the foster home that you’re trying to fund?” she asks, still holding my hand.

  “It is. It’s actually sort of a halfway house for wayward foster children who haven’t found a good home or are difficult to place. Come on, I’ll show you around.” I pull at her hand, and she comes with me seeming to inspect the area.

  I am currently supplementing the funding of the home and covering the costs that taxpayer dollars do not take care of, along with some additional funds for improvements and activities for the kids. It needs more work, and with my plan and the casino funding, this home would work like a well funded private school and sanctuary for the kids.

  “How is this paid for now? With tax dollars?” she asks, taking her hand back, and running it along the worn bricks outside.

  “Yes, and some private funding.”

  Just then, the door opens and Mrs. Connolly, the headmistress of sorts, comes out to greet me.

  “Roman! It’s wonderful to see you!” She gives me a huge hug, her round frame enveloping me. “I see you’ve brought a friend.” She winks at me.

  “Mrs. Connolly, this is Fiona Weston. I wanted to show her the place. I’ve been telling her about our plans.”

  “Oh Fiona, it’s lovely to meet you. Our Roman has just been so wonderful. The kids absolutely adore him. Did you know that he was a soccer player? They actually started a little regular game since he taught them all how to play.” She swoops Fiona into a hug, much to her surprise, which makes me chuckle.

  “It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Connolly.” Fiona's caught off guard by Mrs. Connolly’s immediate affection but seems to soften more and more.

  “It’s arts and crafts time right now if you’d like to come in and see what everyone is working on?”

  “That would be lovely,” Fiona replies. Her interest gives me a chill, or butterflies I suppose. Whatever it is, it’s feelings, towards her, and they continue to grow with each moment I spend with her.

  Mrs. Connolly leads us inside where the children are all sitting at easels, painting. “Everyone! Mr. Roman is here! Let’s say hello to him and his friend, Miss Fiona.”

  As the class all say hello to us in unison, a huge smile forms on Fiona’s face, and she leans into me. This is the exact reaction I was hoping for. Perhaps the flowers and gifts were too far over the top, and I needed the reminder of our humanity outside of superficial tokens myself.

  After we spend some time talking with Mrs. Connolly and getting a very enthusiastic tour from a few of the kids, I promise I’ll be back tomorrow for soccer practice, and we bid them farewell. Out on the front curb, as we wait for the ride I called, Fiona sighs quietly.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Nothing at all. Thank you for bringing me here.” She smiles up at me.

  “You’re welcome. They’re wonderful, aren’t they?” It feels good to share something special with her.

  “How does the casino help your cause more than providing the donation you give currently?”

  “Well, the idea is that the casino already funds public education as part of the Nevada tax laws, but as a private owner, I can also make a deal with the government to fund their home locally. Also, I’m planning to initiate a work-study program that will allow for the kids who haven’t found jobs and who are old enough to work, guaranteed employment at the casino. Any student who works at the casino will have their income matched directly with cash that goes into a college fund to support their higher education. This means that they continue to support the community, and round and round it goes. It will sustain itself long term by continuing to give back over and over.”

  “That’s genius, Roman.” She smiles.

  “It gets better. I’m sure you read this in my proposal, but another portion of the plan is to train and employ homeless in the city, and in return, I will use net profits from the casino to house them as well. In a similar halfway house environment, which will allow them to save the money they make so they can get on their own feet again.”

  “So, you won’t be making any actual profit on the casino?” she asks.

  “No. I don’t need money. I need to help people, Fiona. That’s what I’ve been trying to show you.”

  “So you have,” she replies thoughtfully as our ride pulls up.

  12

  Fiona

  Roman opens the door of the cab for me. His hand glides along the small of my back as I slide in. These subtle touches aren’t lost on me. I noticed he wasn’t in any hurry to let go of my hand when we arrived at the orphanage, nor has he stopped trying to touch me since. I should complain. I should be pissed because he hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said, but I’m not. I’m in complete awe by how much of a gentleman he is. Shan would never open the door for me, unless other high society folks were around, let alone touch me in the most sensual, yet common way possible. It’s like Roman knows women, and while he may be a vampire, something tells me his overall experience is minimal.

  I glance at him, only to find him staring at me. The fact a vampire is watching me should creep me out, but it doesn’t. I match his gaze, waiting to see who will crack and smile first. I win when his pearly whites start to show through his parted lips. “I win,” I tell him, winking.

  “I wasn’t aware we were in some sort of competition.”

  “A stare off.”

  Roman chuckles. “Surely, if I had known, I would’ve won.”

  “Which is exactly why I didn’t say anything. Sometimes a woman needs to win.”

  “And what did you win?” Roman moves closer. His hand is dangerously close to mine. It would be so easy to slide the few inches along the leather seat until my hand is touching his. Everything in me is screaming to pull away, to give him the cold shoulder, but I don’t. This time, I make a move. It’s bold and unlike me, but I felt something earlier when he was holding my hand. His colder than normal skin didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

  “This,” I say as I slip my hand into his, interlocking our fingers together. Roman’s smile grows wider, and I find myself looking for his fangs, waiting for them to drop down and for him to attack me. The driver of this cab wouldn’t do anything, I’m sure, but deep down I know Roman isn’t going to hurt me.

  “I like this,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine as he brings our conjoined hands to his lips. They linger there for a moment before he pulls away. The kiss sends shivers down my spine. Not because the man holding my hand to his mouth is a natural born killer, but because this is literally the most sensual act I have ever had bestowed upon me.

  How can this be possible? I dated Shan off and on for years. Was he not sensual? Did he not care about me? I’m sure in his own way he did. We were good together, dubbed the up and coming power couple until I chose to pursue a life in California.

  “I do too.” My voice is soft, and the words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying. I expect Roman to grin like the Cheshire cat, but he doesn’t. He smiles softly and continues to hold our hands on his lap.

  “I’m sorry about earlier, with the flowers. Had I known…”

  “It’s fine. It’s one the reason I’ve stayed in Nevada for so long. The desert helps keep my allergies at bay. Everything is--”

  “Dead?” he interrupts. It would be e
asy to say he’s putting words in my mouth, but this isn’t the case.

  “But you’re not dead, are you?”

  Roman’s eyes tear away from mine, in time for the cab driver to pull over in front of the hotel where I live. Roman pays and exits the cab first, never letting go of my hand. Not all I have learned about vampires seems to hold true when it comes to Roman. He’s soft, gentle and doesn’t move lightning fast, although I’m sure when he’s with his own kind things are different. He hasn’t tried to coerce me into anything, at least nothing I’m aware of. I can easily say these feelings are genuine because as I stand here on the street corner, watching this creature survey the crowd like we’re finishing our first date and both wondering if the awkward kiss should happen here or at the elevator, I realize I don’t want my day with him to end. I like holding his hand, and I like being in his presence, but loathe the idea that we’ve come together because of business. Why couldn’t I meet him on my own?

  “Would you like me to check and see if your apartment has been cleared out?”

  “It’s nice of you to ask but no. Would you like to get dinner at the Bellagio?” I point behind me, the nerves of the moment setting in. “I mean, I know you don’t eat, but it’s a vampire-friendly restaurant and maybe…”

  “If you’re thinking I drink blood while dining, the answer is no.” Roman steps forward and his free hand reaches toward my face. I too take a step closer, expecting him to cup my cheek, but he moves my hair away from my neck and uses humanly impossible strength to tilt my head to the side. Roman presses himself to me and my heartbeat increases. I seek out help from any of the passersby, but they’re oblivious or so used to see something like this, they don’t care to ask if I need help. “This is how I feed.” His nail trails down my throat, and I swallow hard. “But only if you allow me,” he whispers into my ear.

  Roman steps away, his expression solemn. “I will never take unless you offer, Fiona.”