Breaking Roman (The Moran Family Book 3)

by Alexis James

  “When is Mother’s Day?” Pretty sure I should know this information, considering my own mother will need to be spoiled too.

  She shrugs and kneels down to dig under her bed. “Um, in a few weeks.” Making a mental note to put the date on my calendar, I watch her pull what appears to be a scrapbook—a thick one at that—and plop it down on top of her unmade bed. “I still have some pictures to put in here, but tell me what you think.”

  The book is a chronological story of Emmy’s childhood, starting with a few blurry pictures of her as a newborn in the hospital, her exhausted mother looking on with pride. The pictures are mostly of Emmy, but there are one or two of Sabrina alone, wearing the same uncertain and slightly scared expression that I’ve seen a time or two. Older now, she tends to hide it well, but in these images she does nothing to shield her expression. She’s happy, but only barely so, the weight of single motherhood weighing on her slight frame.

  “Where’s your dad?” I’m certain my question would be deemed inappropriate, especially considering I’m asking the child and not the mother, but Emmy takes it in stride.

  She shrugs and replies, “No idea. He walked away when mom got pregnant.”

  Rage bubbles up inside of me, deep and dark and menacing, and if it weren’t for the sweet young girl standing right next to me, I might punch something. “Ah, kiddo, I’m sorry about that.”

  She shrugs again. “Don’t be. It’s his loss. I’m a cool kid.”

  “Yeah, you are very cool.” I flip through the remaining pages and hand the book over. “She’s gonna love this.”

  Emmy beams. “Really? You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  By the time we finally sit down at the small dining table, I’ve tempered the rage and now it’s just a low boil. Every time I think about Sabrina being all alone through her pregnancy, trying to raise a child alone, making life and death decisions each and every day, I just see red. No woman should ever have to raise a child alone, but definitely not someone as gentle and sweet as Sabrina.

  Emmy carries the bulk of the conversation during dinner, asking questions about my family and my job and telling me all about her two best friends. Sabrina stays mostly silent, pushing the food around her plate and eating very little. Obviously, I make her uncomfortable, but I wish she’d tell me why. I know she’s attracted to me, that much she tries to hide—and does a piss poor job. But why it is so difficult for her to relax around me? If it was just the work thing, I doubt I’d be sitting here right now. I just wish I could get her to open up and talk.

  There’s a knock at the door, three knocks actually, then one, then three more. Emmy’s up out of her chair, running toward the door. Flinging it open, she announces, “Mom, Uncle Jack is here.”

  Uncle Jack and I immediately lock gazes, and you’d think we were two dogs pissing on the same fire hydrant. His blue eyes narrow as he draws closer, glancing over at Sabrina as I rise to introduce myself.

  “You must be the coworker guy,” he drawls. He eyes me up and down, giving me a thorough once-over. We’re relatively the same height, but I’ve got twenty or so pounds of muscle on him which I use to my advantage.

  Smirking, I offer my hand. “Roman Moran. And you are?”

  He shakes my hand firmly then immediately goes to fix himself a plate of food. “I’m Uncle Jack, or didn’t you hear.”

  O-okay. So that’s how it’s gonna go. Thank God Emmy is clueless to all the “my dick is bigger than your dick” posturing that’s going on, though I doubt her mother is. Sabrina is sitting there wide eyed and white faced, eyes skirting from me to the other man in the room as he pulls up a chair and practically sits in her lap.

  Emmy asks to be excused and when she’s locked inside her room, Jack shoots me yet another dark look. “What’s your story, man?”

  “No story.”

  “Why are you sniffing around my girls?”

  The rage I felt earlier … yeah, it’s now doubled, but keeping silent, keeping calm, will go a long way in ensuring that I get asked back again. I casually drop my fork on the edge of the plate, refill Sabrina’s glass and my own, and sit back to sip and see what happens next.

  “Knock it off,” Sabrina warns.

  Jack looks back and forth between the two of us, finally stopping long enough to glare directly at me. “What are your intentions?”

  Chuckling at the man’s outrageous personality, I reply, “What’s it to you? Are you Sabrina’s husband or lover perhaps?”

  Jack snorts and casually drapes one arm around her shoulders. “Not hardly.”

  “Then my intentions are none of your fucking business.”

  Sabrina’s mouth drops open in shock, but those honest blue eyes of hers darken considerably with need. She’s turned on my by caveman attitude, which seriously thrills me to no end. Too bad her bodyguard is making it impossible for me to show her just how primal I can be.

  Jack surprises us both when he turns to Sabrina and grins. “I like this guy.” He turns his attention back to me. “Don’t hurt her or Em or you’ll answer to me.”

  “Understood.”

  He shovels in a few bites and glances around. “Flowers huh. Nice touch.” I offer up a shrug and wink at Sabrina. Predictably, her face flushes and she averts her eyes.

  “Jack, why are you home tonight and not out on the town? And where’s Alex?”

  He stands and retrieves himself a wine glass, fills it to the top, and drops dramatically down into the chair. “He’s gorgeous and he can literally fuck all night. But he’s dumber than a stump, you know what I mean?”

  I burst out laughing, and Sabrina shakes her head as her face heats with embarrassment. I can’t say I’m not relieved to find that her protector swings the other way, though had he not said anything to the contrary I never would have known. I am glad to know she has someone close to her, a male someone, to protect her and Emmy when I’m not around. Which is often. Hopefully the events of today will change that, but I’m not holding my breath. If I’ve learned nothing else in the last few months it’s that trust is something earned one tiny step at a time.

  “So no plans, then?” Sabrina grabs our plates and begins to clear the table.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. How about you guys? Staying in or going out?” The plates land with a bang in the sink, and Jack shoots me a knowing grin.

  “Um … we’re uh … we’re staying in. Roman just came for dinner.”

  Jack takes another large bite then rises to hand her his plate. “Well then, I’ll let you two kids have at it.” He shakes my hand once more and grins. “Be good, you hear?”

  “No promises, man. No promises.”

  He pokes me in the chest with his finger. “I like you, Moran.” He hugs Sabrina tightly, whispers something in her ear that has her face blazing bright red, then smacks her ass and yells goodbye to Emmy before slamming the door behind him.

  “Sorry about him. He’s just a bit overprotective.”

  Gathering the remaining dishes, I step up next to her. “Good, I’m glad.”

  “Really?”

  My eyes drift over her face and settle on the soft, pink lips that I’d love to taste. “Absolutely.” I sense her uneasiness with me in her personal space, so I set the dishes off to the side and take a step back. “Would you like to go out somewhere, maybe listen to some music or get a drink?”

  She shakes her head, sending silky blond tresses skimming across her shoulders. “No thank you. Emmy’s here. I don’t like to leave her alone at night.”

  “I understand.”

  Sabrina turns to face me, a stunned expression on her face. “You do?”

  “Of course I do. She’s your priority. I get that completely.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you want to …”

  I step directly in front of her, placing my index finger on her lips. “What I want is to be with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s here in your home or in a club.”

  Taking another step closer aligns our bodies and leave
s a mere inch of space between us. I can hear her labored breathing, the pounding of my own heart, and I can only imagine how this would end if her fifteen-year-old weren’t in the next room. Bending slightly, I dip my nose into her hair, drinking in the sweet, floral smell and commit it to memory, whispering, “What I want, is you.” Reaching out, I gently take her fingers in mine, sliding the other hand around her neck to tilt her head up. Wary blue eyes meet mine as I smile down at her. “Do you want me too?”

  It feels like forever before her head bobs up and down twice and even though I have no idea where we go from here, I feel like the luckiest man alive.

  “Roman, I …”

  Emmy’s door opens and quick as lightening I take a step back and disengage our hands. If she notices her mother’s flushed appearance or the sudden awkwardness between us, she says nothing. “Can we have cake now?”

  I glance over at Sabrina and this time she’s the one rolling her eyes and smirking at me. Then she nods and reaches for three small plates while I remove the lid on the cake and resume my seat.

  Once we’ve eaten dessert, cleaned the kitchen, and Emmy’s back in her room, I decide to take my leave. Sure, I could hang around for another hour or so, torment myself with not being able to touch her, or I could count this one as a win and call it a day.

  “I’m gonna head out.” I say a quick goodbye to Emmy. Sabrina follows me to the door and pulls it open, leaning against the frame as I step out onto the porch.

  “Thank you for the flowers.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I take a small step closer, then one more, until we’re once more standing right next to one another. Her hand goes easily into mine this time as we stand there saying nothing. Cars drive by, a dog barks a few houses down, and somewhere down the block I can hear the sound of partygoers. My forehead falls gently to hers and I can hear her breath catch as her fingers tighten on mine.

  “Please don’t be afraid of me.”

  “But I am,” she whispers.

  Our eyes meet and hold each other’s gaze as I run my knuckles over her jawline. “Tell me why.”

  White teeth nibble nervously on her lower lip as she looks up at me. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

  My eyes drift shut as I pull her close, feeling her for the first time. “You have to know that’s the last thing I want.”

  “I can’t lose my job.”

  “I know. And I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize our working relationship.” Setting her back, I tip her face up with my hand. “Just give me a chance. That’s all I ask.”

  Her silence and fear speaks volumes and in the moments that tick by, I can feel her slipping further and further away. Maybe I haven’t tried hard enough or it’s quite possible that she simply needs more time. Whatever the case, tonight I’m getting nowhere fast.

  Pressing my lips to her cheek, I murmur, “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see at the office.”

  She’s still standing in the doorway when I slide behind the wheel. Even from this distance, I can see how unnerved she is. I do have to ask myself if I’m ready for the responsibility that loving her will entail. I’m not only taking on a woman who most likely hasn’t loved in years. I’m taking on the responsibility of potentially breaking her child’s heart too and if that isn’t sobering enough, I don’t know what is.

  I have no idea where Sabrina and I go from here but whatever happens next, she has to come to me willingly. She knows what I want and where I stand. The next move is hers and hers alone.

  Over the past few months, I’ve become fixated on Saturdays. Weird, I know, but it’s the one day of the week when I’m guaranteed to see Roman. The one day when neither of us hides behind our work personas or simply avoids the other because our situation demands that we have to.

  Since the dinner at my house, he’s kept a very hands-off approach with me. I welcome the space and lack of pressure, but I’d be a fool to say that I don’t miss that sense of closeness we developed that night. Sure, we’re still basically strangers, even though the man has seriously wormed his way into my daughter’s life. She holds him up on this pedestal now, this man who patiently helps her with homework each weekend while I plug away and get caught up at work. At home it’s Roman this and Roman that, but thankfully only once has she broached the subject of my feelings for him, feelings that to this day remain completely undefined. Of course I’m attracted to him—that goes without saying. I’d have to be dead not to be. And I completely admire the ease with which he’s accepted my child into his life, helping her with whatever she asks and generally being a good friend to her in every way.

  His behavior toward me? Well, that’s been decidedly reserved, to say the least. I do sometimes catch him looking at me and the raw need in his eyes thrills me to no end. It also scares the hell out of me. What am I, a women with little to no sexual experience, supposed to do with a man like that? Just the idea of us alone, all tangled up in one another, causes sweat to break out across my forehead and a sick feeling to roll in my stomach. I’m so out of my league it’s not funny, and there are times I consider that maybe I need to talk about this with him and let him know I’m really not worth all this time and effort. There’s got to be plenty more women, experienced women, ready, willing, and able to meet his every need.

  The whole other issue of us working together has not escaped me, and even though he practically ignores me whenever we pass in the hall, I do still fear what might happen if things between us move forward. I’ve even thought about talking this over with Mia, Cruz’s wife and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. She of all people would understand my predicament since not too long ago she was in my same position.

  Jack says that I’ll never know if he’s ‘the one’ if I don’t take a chance, but taking a chance is exactly why I hesitate. I like where we are right now, the sort of friends we’re becoming. I like to watch him interact with my child, being the positive male role model that she’s been missing for so long. Changing things, taking a chance might tip things in a direction that sends me running for the hills. And quite honestly I’m afraid for things to change. I’m afraid if they do, I’ll just end up losing him sooner than I anticipated.

  Now that it’s summertime I have a whole new set of challenges to face as a parent. Leaving my teenager alone all day is risky, even for a kid as good as Emmy. I remind myself that she’s still human, she’s still impulsive and will make the same mistakes I did at that age. That being said, we’re only a few weeks into her break and I’m already tearing my hair out and trying not to obsess about calling her every hour on the hour.

  In a fit of weakness, I voiced my concerns to Roman, who immediately offered her a job helping him out in the office. I did my fair share of protesting, but when Emmy returned from the restroom and overheard him talking about it, I was quickly outranked.

  Monday morning I walk her to his office, where he greets her with a smile and a loud, boisterous “welcome aboard.” The small desk he found for her is shoved into the corner with piles of paperwork on top of it, and while he might have created this job to give my kid something to do, he clearly needs the help.

  “We’re good, Mom. You can go now.” Emmy tosses her backpack under the desk and plops down while I share a snicker with Roman.

  “You’ll call me if she gets out of line?”

  Taking a cue from my daughter, Roman rolls his eyes and gently shoves me toward the door. “We’re fine. I’ve got tons of things for her to do. I’ll be at the site later on, so if she finishes she can come up and help you.”

  “You sure Cruz is okay with this?”

  Roman shrugs. “Not his decision to make. My department, remember?”

  Standing here debating this issue is a waste of time. My daughter is thrilled to have something to do and earn her own money, and I can work knowing I don’t have to worry about her. It’s a win-win no matter how you look at it. “Well, okay. And thank you. For everything.”

  He glances at his little
helper, sees her eyeing us closely, and nods, taking a step back. “You bet. I’ll see you later.”

  By the end of the week she’s accompanying him to the jobsite, jotting down notes in the new iPad he bought for her that he insists is only for work—kind of like the laptop he showed up with yesterday afternoon which sent her jumping around the office in squeals. He’s spoiling her rotten, and even if he doesn’t realize the magnitude of what he’s done for her, and for me really, I will certainly never forget how generous he’s been to both of us.

  Because she no longer has homework and is now working forty plus hours each week, Emmy elects to stay home Saturday morning and sleep in while I go into the office for a few hours. The truth is that what I have on my agenda really can wait until Monday, but I’ve gotten so used to seeing him these past eight weeks that I can’t imagine not doing so now.

  He makes his appearance right at noon, toting the usual bag from the deli in one hand, bottles of soda in the other. His grin is wide as he glances around and plops down across from me. “Em sleeping in?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “That’s good actually … because I wanted to talk to you.”

  My stomach rolls nervously as I twist the cap on the soda. “Oh? About what?”

  Those dark mocha eyes lock directly on mine. “I wanted to invite you and Emmy out next weekend.”

  “Out where?”

  “My dad has a boat, a really nice boat actually. During the summer all of us take it out, get some sun and swim a bit. I thought it might be fun if you and Emmy join us.”

  All I can think about is the look on Cruz’s face when he sees me with his brother. “Oh, Roman, I really don’t think that would be appropriate.”

  He mutters a curse and shoots to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already told you … fuck appropriate. If Cruz doesn’t like it, he doesn’t have to go.”

  “I can’t lose my job. It’s all I have.”