13
Across the river the next afternoon, Roman threw open the door to his apartment and was met with Bette’s solemn face.
He sighed heavily.
It had been twenty-four hours since he and Angie had found Knox Jefferson hanging in his Manhattan loft. After a long night answering questions at the police station and being escorted home by an officer, Angie had remained alert and jumpy.
Every time she managed to close her eyes, she’d wake up in a cold sweat five minutes later. After it happened for the tenth time, Roman came apart, forcing her to pack up her essentials before moving them to his one-bedroom unit in Brooklyn Heights.
This had never been Roman’s favorite building, but it was home to Mayor Deblasio and many other power players in the city. No one got into that building without extensive clearance. An individualized keycard was required to get in the front door, past security, and into the elevators, both ways. Every time the card was swiped, the cardholder’s information was uploaded to a security database with the date, time and precise location of the swipe.
To some it would seem excessive.
Not to Roman.
Even looking into a set of eyes that always comforted him in seconds, a cold chill rolled through his body.
Bette still didn’t know the truth, and he envied her.
He’d give anything to go back to never knowing who his real father was. To never learning the terrible truth about his brother.
Finding Knox dead had been such a blur, such a shock, that he’d yet to tell any of his family members what happened, too focused on getting Angie somewhere she felt safe. Somewhere he felt safe. He’d declined to have their names released, but he knew his family would eventually hear about Knox.
He suspected, after hearing the news, that his mother had scoured every apartment building he’d ever purchased. He owned dozens of properties in the city, so that was no small feat.
After video conferencing with security and confirming that Bette was his mother, he found himself relieved to meet her eyes over the threshold of his door.
Bette kept her distance in the hallway, even though everything in her eyes said she wanted to launch herself across the doorway and take him in her arms.
Roman breathed deep, clutching the door in his hand. “Hey, Ma.”
***
Across the threshold, Bette fought tears.
Of all her sons, Roman had always been the sweetest baby. The baby that most needed to be held, cuddled and shown love. As little ones, Val, Leo, and Gary had always accepted her hugs and kisses, but in an expedient fashion. Any longer than five minutes and they were squirming to be set free.
Not Roman. Roman would let Bette cuddle him to her chest all day long without uttering a single word of complaint.
It amazed her how the script had flipped.
“I just heard what happened,” Bette said, lips curling. “I wish you had called, but I suppose I understand why you didn’t.”
Roman’s face remained blank, eyes moving to the hallway wall over her shoulder.
“Your father and brothers have just heard the news too. They’ve been banging on your door in Manhattan all morning. I haven’t told them you’re here. I wanted to talk to you first. About the man you found. Knox Jefferson.” She held her clasped hands out in front of her. “Baby, I know I haven’t been the greatest mother to you, lately… but I think you really deserve to know the truth. And I hope you can forgive me—”
“I know, Ma,” Roman said. “I know that Knox was my real father.”
She breathed in, eyes widening. “You do?”
“Angie found him a few months ago. I’ve known it for a while now. Do I know why he hung himself in my apartment? No. But I’m okay. I’m dealing with it and I’m okay, Ma.” Roman held an arm out at his side, sighing. “He was my blood, yeah, but he was never my father. I didn’t know him. He didn’t know me. Seeing him hanging there was fucked-up, but it didn’t destroy me. Not the way it would’ve if…” He took a moment. “My father is Tony Valentin Romanovsky.”
Bette’s eyes fluttered shut. She breathed in deep.
“I’m not angry, Ma. Knox could’ve known me, but he didn’t want to. I understand why you lied, and I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“I’m fine, Ma.”
“You’re not fine.”
Roman searched her eyes for a long moment and then turned his head away, gazing at something inside his apartment, still clutching the door in his hand.
Bette was rocketed back to his childhood. Back to baby Roman. The look he was trying to hide from her right then was the same look that used to hit his eyes whenever he bumped his head, had a toy taken away, or got into altercations with one of his brothers that left him biting his bottom lip for strength. Bette would go to him when that look hit his eye, but he wouldn’t succumb to his cries until her arms were around him, only able to show that kind of honesty when he knew she’d be there to catch him.
“You’re not fine.” Her voice weakened.
Roman bit his bottom lip.
When he lowered his eyes, Bette stepped across the threshold.
“You’re not fine, Rome.” She took his bicep in her hand.
He pulled back halfheartedly, but not enough to remove his arm from her grasp.
Bette tugged, and that was all it took.
Just like when he was a baby, he fell into her arms, and only when her own were wrapped tightly around him, a silent promise that she would always be there, did the first cry leave his lips.
It was so sudden, so deep, so laced with agony, that she knew it had been inside him for a long time.
Too long.
She locked her arms around his trembling shoulders and took each cry, each shudder, until his tears had soaked her dress.
Even then, she didn’t pull away.
She never would again.
***
“I’ll have to call your brothers and father once I head back out, so be ready for a lot of unfriendly phone calls and visits later tonight.”
“Those clowns don’t scare me.” Roman grinned.
Bette pushed her hair out of her eyes, smiling across the coffee table that was cuddled into a small breakfast nook in Roman’s living room. Afternoon had flowed into evening, and they’d lost track of time catching up. Angie had appeared to say hello, looking like hell rising, and was now taking a, what appeared to Bette, much-needed rest in the apartment’s only bedroom.
Across the small table, she adjusted her dress under Roman’s gaze, checked that her necklace was straight, and did her best to control her smile. She could feel it wobbling.
“Your father has made himself sick with worry.” Her eyes shifted. “He’ll sleep better knowing you’re here. You know he’s always loved this building. It still feels like a prison to me, but… Anyway…” Bette breathed in, slapping her hands down to her knees. “Thank you for hanging out with me all afternoon. Talking to me. There’s still so much I want to say to you. So many things you deserve to know.” She took another deep breath. “I know you came back home. And you say everything is fine. But I know you’re not really fine.” She froze when he moved, but relaxed when she saw he was just adjusting himself in his seat.
“Look, Ma…”
“No…” She held a hand out. The steam from their untouched teacups wafted between her splayed fingers. “Let me say this. Please.”
Roman leaned on his knees. “All right.”
“You’re my baby boy. My firstborn. I know you’re one inch of broken trust away from leaving us for good.” She swallowed. “And I’ll never risk losing you again. Not because of stupid lies. So I want to tell you the truth… about Knox. Tony would be very angry with me if this conversation ever left this room, but I don’t care.” She pressed her clasped hands into her lap, shaking the hair out of her eyes. “The truth is… Knox and I were in love once. He used to work with your father up at 5th, and he was a good friend of ours. At dinner every Su
nday, every birthday, every holiday. And… he and I fell madly in love.”
Roman’s eyebrows jumped.
She blew air through her cheeks. “This is hard.”
“You can tell me, Ma. I won’t be angry. Just tell me the truth.”
She clawed her nails in her lap. “The affair with Knox started shortly after Tony got the news that he was infertile. The doctor told Tony he would never be able to get me pregnant. Ever. We know that’s not true now… but back then? Oh, he was so very hurt. He pulled away from me. I pulled away from him. Knox was there for us when we didn’t have the strength or the heart to be there for each other. He even put a sample on file with the fertility clinic. He offered to help us, but when the time came to pull the trigger, Tony and I couldn’t do it.”
Roman’s head fell.
“We didn’t think we could stomach another negative result. Another false positive. Another failure. We couldn’t deal with anymore of the poking, the prodding, or the hospitals. We accepted that we didn’t want to have a baby if it couldn’t be our own.” Bette paused for a long while. “Maybe I pulled away from your father and went to Knox as a way to cope with the pain of us not being able to have a child together. Maybe Knox hanged himself in your home as a result of the pain he felt having never been in your life.” She shrugged, the tears breaking free. “I don’t know, baby. All I know for sure is that I fell in love with him, and we had an affair up until the day you were conceived. When I became pregnant with you, Tony believed you were his. He thought it was a miracle. He was so happy.” Bette sniffled, wiping her nose. “Knox was with us at the hospital the night you were born, and the moment we all saw you…”
Roman met her eyes.
“We knew,” she said. “It was as if Knox had spit in that delivery room, and a boy came flying out. We all knew, but we never said it out loud. Not for years. Tony signed the birth certificate, and Knox never challenged it. Neither did I. We all went our separate ways. They saw each other at work, and that’s all. Knox never showed his face in our home again. But… that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you.”
Roman hissed.
“You have to understand, Rome.” Bette’s eyes widened. “Knox was a tumbleweed in the breeze. He was heavy into drugs. He came and went, mentally. Physically. He wasn’t in any condition to be anyone’s father. It wasn’t until you were in high school that he finally got clean and told us he wanted to know you. At first, Tony agreed. He agreed that we would all tell you the truth once you graduated high school. Then, out of nowhere.” She snapped a finger. “He switched.”
Roman sat up.
“He switched, baby. Overnight. They both did. Tony didn’t even want to hear Knox’s name. To this day, that’s the case. And Knox? He vanished. I haven’t seen him in ten years.”
“Ten years…”
Bette nodded at his whispered words. “And Tony made it plain that you could never know the truth about Knox. So we made up the story about the anonymous donor, but the true story is that Knox and I had an affair, I got pregnant with his child, and Tony signed the birth certificate.”
“Why did Knox disappear?”
“Baby… I have no idea.”
Roman, however, did have an idea.
Sniffling, Bette grabbed her purse, which she’d slung over the back of the chair, and flipped it open. “There’s a reason I told you all this.” She produced an envelope from her purse, held it up and shook it. “Knox handed me this letter ten years ago. The day before he vanished. He told me that if anything ever happened to him, to tell you…” She covered her mouth and gasped, only calming when Roman reached across the table and placed his hand on her knee. “He told me to tell you… that he loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you, and that he would love you until he drew his last breath.”
Roman’s wide eyes filled, and for a moment, he was stilled with emotion, not even taking the worn envelope when she offered it to him over the coffee table.
“He told me if anything ever happened to him, to give you this.” She shook the envelope, snapping Roman out of his trance.
He took it from her, ripping it open without breaking their gaze.
“He asked me not to open it, so…” Bette came to the edge of the chair as Roman removed a single piece of paper from the envelope and read the words. “What’s it say?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
Roman’s hands shook under the letter. A letter his mother had been harboring for years. A letter Knox Jefferson had given her the same year the Blacks’ had been killed. A letter he’d made her promise not to open unless something happened to him.
Something had certainly happened to Knox Jefferson, and Roman’s blood went cold as he read Knox’s bone-curling final words.
It was King.
14
Jessica leaned her head back against the stained-glass water tower, eyes following the colorful structure as it soared into the starry sky. She crossed her legs in the tan maxi dress she wore, grateful that the weather that night was warm enough to wear her favorite ballet flats without her toes going numb.
The wood below her began to tremble, indicating that someone was climbing the tower’s stairs. With a shaky sigh, she straightened her dress, adjusted her black leather jacket, and tried to fight away the tightening in her stomach.
As the shaking grew more pronounced, her gaze dropped forward and claimed the Brooklyn Bridge. It felt close enough to touch, zooming across the dark blue river and slicing into Lower Manhattan.
Leo’s head appeared at the top of the water tower’s staircase, and he froze mid climb, clinging to the railing that surrounded the tower.
Jessica’s eyes met his, and she smiled when redness tinged his cheeks. He cleared the stairs and then leaned against the railing opposite her.
Still sitting with one knee bent, she had to throw her head back to look up at him.
He was wearing all black, but the lights dotting the bridge behind him made him look like an angel.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. “And nice job making it past security. Only the best men do. The few, the proud…” Her smile fell when he didn’t respond. “Not that I invite a lot of men up here. You’re actually the first.” She bit her lip, begging herself to shut up.
He shifted, running a hand down the back of his head. The wind swept his t-shirt into the air, giving her tortuous hints at the abs tightening underneath, almost as tan and golden as his eyes. She yearned to trickle her fingers over them.
“Why are you all the way over there?” She laid her legs and hands flat on the wood.
He licked his lips, raising an eyebrow as he looked off. “I guess my heart still hasn’t recovered from you abandoning me the other night. Can’t get too close, you know?” He met her eyes. “You might just have a dagger hidden over there.”
“No daggers.” Jessica lifted a bottle of merlot from her side, holding it up so he could see. “But I did bring alcohol.”
Leo pushed off the railing and took his time moving closer, hands in his back pockets. “I knew there was a reason I nearly broke my neck getting up here.”
“I told you I’d make it worth your while.”
“You will always be worth my while, girl.”
“Bad news though,” she said. “I forgot the corkscrew.”
He froze mid step, craning his neck. “Dammit, woman. What are you good for?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Epic fail. I know. How will we ever manage to tolerate each other, stone-cold sober?”
Biting his smiling lip, Leo fished his cellphone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and leaned down, handing it to her.
She took it, seeing that he’d pulled up his music app.
“Pick a playlist.” He swept the bottle from her hand and moved to the railing, toeing off one of his combat boots.
Jessica picked the playlist he’d titled “Fucking Music”. An alternative song with a seductive beat wafted into the air.
His eyes glowed. “Good choice.” The
corner of his mouth lifted as he pushed the wine bottle inside his combat boot.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“You don’t know nothing ’bout this, girl.” He threw her a look once he got the bottle inside the boot and began pounding the boot’s heel against the railing. “I thought you said you were from the Westside?”
Jessica watched in awe as the cork became more dislodged with each strike. In seconds there was enough protruding for Leo to grab it. He yanked it out.
A pop filled the air and he sat down beside her, offering her the open bottle. “My lady.”
“You do the honors, MacGyver. That was damn amazing and you’ve earned yourself the first swig.”
Leo took that swig, smiling around the rim.
“Honestly. That was impressive,” she said.
“I’m a pretty impressive guy. You might know that if you weren’t so busy castrating me at every opportunity.” He offered her the bottle.
She took it along with his teasing tone. “I’m sorry. I truly had an emergency the other night.”
He pushed off his other boot, leaving him in a pair of black socks, and crossed his legs at the ankle.
Smiling, Jessica toed off her ballet flats, too.
“You have beautiful feet.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes.
“No, I don’t.” She wiggled her pedicured toes, and could feel herself blushing. If Harp saw her at that moment, blushing, she would definitely be off the case.
“I assumed you jetted because I was asking too many invasive questions,” he said. “Prying into your life.”
“I was prying into your life, too, so no, that’s not the reason.” She played her toes against his socks. He gave her his foot, and she trapped it between her toes. “Don’t tempt me. I can pinch with my toes. Hard. Leroy has the scars to prove it.”
Loving Leo (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 3) Page 15
