Cousins In Love: An Alpha Bad Boy Romance (Book 3)

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "If you think I had to convince people not to hire you and those friends of yours, you're sadly mistaken. There aren't too many people who are simply going to trust you just because you're my son. That is of course unless I tell them to." He smirks after making that last comment. Pissing me off even further.

  "We've been working together as a team for years. Why would I have to convince anyone of anything, unless you're telling them shit to make them reconsider hiring me?"

  "Let's get one thing straight. You and the Kings worked for me. We didn't work together. Having said that, let's not forget that I was grooming your ungrateful ass to takeover the business and be your own boss until you started sleeping around with family."

  He's bringing up Elizabeth to get a rise out of me. That seems to be his go to strategy now to crush me in an argument. To rattle me. Throw me off my game. Wait for me to react like the hothead I can be. So he can say, "see." I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. I'm the new and improved Roman 2.0, and that's not what I came here for.

  I'm here because just before I was about to blow a load in my beautiful girlfriend's mouth, she asked me to meet with Joseph, and if I said anything but, "yes baby," she made it quite clear that our very vigorous session of sucking and fucking would end prematurely.

  Little brat.

  Sure, I could have taken it out on her in other ways that night. It's what I do. But we've come to a few understandings over the last few months since we've been together. One of them being that I would stop being an orgasm bully (one of her ridiculous names for me) and engage in more reciprocal sexual endeavors with her. Or at least try. Although I don't see what the problem is. She's fooling herself if she doesn't see that we both get tremendous mutual satisfaction out of my control, my punishments, and of course my rewards.

  "You can't seriously have a problem with me being with Elizabeth. You were never in her life growing up, and you don't really have any sort of emotional connection to her now. I mean you barely talked to her when she lived in this house. So what is your real attachment to this? To make sure that I'm a miserable fuck?"

  "What you fail to realize, son, is that I do know Elizabeth. I've known Elizabeth since she was a kid, because her mother sent or emailed pictures of her over the years to us. She sent pictures of her first sleepover, her first spelling bee, she lost in the third round by the way; her first set of braces, the senior prom, nice looking kid took her if I recall right; and she also sent her graduation photos from both high school and college.

  "I didn't need to spend a ton of time with her to know who Elizabeth was. I learned all about her through pictures, through anecdotes, and through overhearing brief but sweet phone conversations between Juliette and Elizabeth's mother."

  I reach in my jeans and play around with a few M&Ms in my pocket. I pretty much always mindlessly munch on my favorite candy daily, but Joseph's words are making me feel a little guilty. Maybe if he had said all of this shit a long time ago, we wouldn't be here. Maybe if he had shared some of those slices of Elizabeth's life growing up with me as well, maybe I would have looked at her more like a family member, rather than a hot piece of ass seducing an entire club full of men the night I first saw her. Maybe I would have been the older cousin, or the big brother, who visited her on Penn's campus and scared motherfuckers like Ethan away before they could pollute her with their disease ridden penises.

  Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

  But that's not what the fuck happened.

  What happened was that Joseph and Juliette kept all that pertinent information to themselves. Probably because it was too painful for Juliette to talk about. The beloved niece she would hear about but could never see, because her brother wouldn't have anything to do with her.

  What happened was I met this beloved cousin of mine only once when I was a kid, and she was annoying as fuck; so I buried her in the backyard to get rid of her. What happened was I didn't recognize her when I saw her again as an adult. And there was no stopping me once I saw Elizabeth in the club that night, and then again at the restaurant.

  I'm not a big believer in fate. A real man makes his own destiny, but I'm no idiot either. I know that either God or some other higher power was smacking me in the back of the head back then, trying to point Elizabeth out to me. Trying to tell me that she was my girl, that I needed to claim her, and that I needed to make her see it too.

  Elizabeth is supposed to be mine and she is. I love her, and nothing is ever going to change that. Why can't these motherfuckers we're related to get on board? I know I'm fucked up, but the one good thing about me, the one thing that I've gotten completely right is loving Elizabeth.

  "So what, we're a little dysfunctional and don't spend the holidays together like other families. That doesn't change a single thing," Joseph continues on, "I don't care if I never met Elizabeth. By marriage or by blood, she is still my family, which means that she is your family too. She is your cousin, and while I don't necessarily care about who people choose to love, what I do care about is the fact that her parents will never accept the two of you. They will never be okay with it. Which means that they'll never be okay with Juliette. Which means that they definitely will never be okay with me. That's my attachment to this of which you speak."

  I can't munch on my candy right now, since I'm positive that Joseph will get the wrong idea. He'll think that he's bothered me with that speech. Which he hasn't, but he has given me an earful to consider. So to help me process, I decide to take a bite of my turkey sandwich, instead of a handful of candy. Damn, it's pretty good too. Juliette spread some sort of secret sauce on the bread instead of mayo or mustard, which gives it just the right amount of tang.

  Joseph carefully watches me as I chew and swallow my sandwich, then take a sip from my bottle of water. He still seems to be anticipating, or waiting for an outburst from me, as if his disapproval of my relationship means shit to me. It doesn't. I just want Elizabeth to be okay.

  "What if I get her family on board? Bring brother and sister back together again. Will you stop sabotaging my business?"

  Joseph leans forward.

  "Sabotage?" he lets out a single incredulous laugh. "Do you even understand why I gave you The Lotus and Mendez in the first place?"

  "So you could go travel the world with your wife?"

  He and Juliette haven't spent much time in Philly over the last few months. They've been to several countries since he decided to essentially retire from the business, and from what Elizabeth tells me they're loving every minute of it. They have plans to continue traveling on and off for the rest of the year. Something about traveling to every continent before Juliette's next birthday.

  "I didn't have to give you a single thing in order for me to take my wife around the world."

  "So then why did you?" Since he seems to be dying to tell me.

  "I gave you the easiest club to manage, the one with the highest profit margin, and I gave you the best client to manage, the celebrity with the deepest pockets and minimal drama as gifts from a father to his son. You don't have to work another day in your life if you so choose, Roman, and that's because I set it up that way. You may have earned a living over the years with some work on your part, but only because I permitted it to happen.

  "I know I wasn't your ideal father, but I'm going to be perfectly honest with you since you're a grown man now. I'm sure you're very much aware that your birth wasn't planned. People that come from where we come from don't plan shit. Life just happens to us. When your mother told me she was pregnant, I didn't want you. I certainly wasn't in love with your mother, and I was too busy trying to make a name for myself and get out of the neighborhood to be concerned with raising a baby. Because of my mentality, I didn't accept you for a long time. That's my fault. It's one of my biggest regrets. I realize now that I was reacting to a situation that I didn't plan for like a frightened child and not a man. It just took me a minute to realize it.

  "For a while, I thought just sending your mother money every
month was me doing what I was supposed to do. Actually I thought I was doing what most of the neighborhood losers I grew up with weren't bothering to do. Taking care of mine. But once I really grew up and recognized that it takes more than a few dollars every month to be a father, to really take care of my responsibilities, I finally understood that I was doing you and myself an injustice.

  "After that realization, there was no turning back for me. So when you called that day for my help, and asked me to come bring you some money, I knew that was a sign. I became determined to give you the life you deserved. A better life than I ever had growing up. The best schools. A nice house. A career. And I've done that. I'm still doing that. Now it's up to you to decide what you are going to do with all that I've given you."

  "I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say by telling me that long saga of my bastard beginnings," I say with an edge to my voice.

  Joseph sighs. "Why are you looking for clients, Roman? You certainly don't need the money. I've made sure of that."

  I think about that question. It's the first time I ever really gave it any serious consideration. Why am I busting my ass trying to find new clients when I don't need the money? When I could live off the interest of the money I have in the bank.

  "Well for starters, there isn't just me to consider. There's Camden, Cutter and Jade. They're all counting on me."

  "Jade and the boys can manage the club, or you can split Mendez with them, or maybe they should go on their own and do something else. So what's the real reason you're holding on? Dig deep."

  I consider everything Joseph is asking. Instead of thinking of a snarky comeback, I decide to try and be honest with him. To be honest with myself.

  "No one wants to just get up everyday and do absolutely nothing, Joseph. Not people like me. I need to keep busy. I need to work."

  "You already work. Dig deeper," he demands.

  "I want more challenging work. I want clients. More like Mendez, or better yet, even more fucked up ones. I don't want to just manage a club and babysit a baseball player. I'm better when I have a problem to solve."

  "Good answer, but I think it's more than that. You just haven't accepted the truth yet."

  I tell this bastard the truth, my truth, and it still isn't good enough for him. It never is.

  "Are you listening to me, old man? I need clients. That's all there is. There is no other truth."

  "All right then, if that's all there is, then go get yourself some clients."

  "What the hell do you think we've been discussing here? I could get them if you'd stop throwing up roadblocks everywhere. No one will work with me. You've led them to believe that all I am is muscle, and that you were the brains. They don't think I can handle the jobs. That I'm not polished enough."

  "And I wonder why they think that?"

  "Are you blaming me for some of the carnage I've left behind for the sake of the family business? Because let's not forget that I was doing most of it under your orders. Your command. You wanted shit to get fixed, and sometimes that meant that things got messy. That's the world we live in. The life we chose. And you taught me everything I know."

  "You're right, but clients don't want to know about the threats, the violence, or the fear that it takes to make their problems go away. They want to pretend that they've hired someone who can just magically make shit disappear for them, and leave no mess behind to remind them of what they've truly asked for."

  "So you're saying the reason I have no clients is because I'm messy?"

  "All I'm saying is that I am not purposely stopping you from getting any clients. I don't have to, nor do I have any interest in doing so. I was just hoping you wouldn't want that life any longer. I hoped that you'd take my gift of the club and Mendez and go live your life. A peaceful one. I can see I may have miscalculated your need for a crisis."

  I made Elizabeth a promise and I've kept it by being here, but I've humbled myself as much as I possibly can today.

  That's it.

  I'm done.

  I can see that this meeting has been a complete waste of my time just like I knew it would be. This is some sort of pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, son teaching moment for him. As if I'm some sort of spoiled trust fund baby. He fails to recognize the major part I played in the success of his, no scratch that, our business. Without me there'd be nothing getting the fuck fixed. There'd be no business.

  He has no stomach for the dirty work anymore, and he hasn't for a long ass time. He thinks you can just throw money at any problem and get it taken care of, but you can't. Some people don't respond to money, regardless of the amount, especially when they think they can get more. Some people just need an old fashioned boot up their ass.

  "All right then. Please thank Juliette again for the lunch." I take a final bite of my sandwich. "It's been illuminating speaking with you as usual, Joseph."

  "I assure you that I'm doing nothing to prevent you from acquiring clients, Roman. They're just not ready to hire you. You'll have to figure that out on your own. If I do it for you, no one will respect you. Plus, it's not totally dried up for you out there. I've heard you've been getting a couple of clients."

  "Not good ones."

  "Do they pay?"

  "That's not the only factor to consider and you know that. I have to be particular about what types of jobs I take. What work they want me to do. I've achieved a certain level of cache. I have standards."

  "Oh so barn burners are too beneath you?" The old man asks.

  Barn burners is what we call an arson job. Arson jobs can be a huge headache if you don't get it right, and they can get you serious time if you get caught. Those are not jobs that men at my level should even be entertaining. They're way too risky, and there's not enough profit.

  "See that's the difference between you and me. I started out in this business here." Joseph holds his hand palm down at his hip.

  "I took on shitty ass clients and built my business to here." He raises his palm up next to his waist.

  "Important men started hearing about the work I was putting in on the streets, and I started getting hired for bigger jobs. Better clients. Ones that paid with a check, and not with cash washed through a strip club. I was quiet, I was efficient, and at the time I was cheap. And then ... I rose my business to here." He raises his palm to the side of his forehead.

  "And I fought like hell to keep it at this level. But the problem with you is that you think that you're already here, when you're really here." He moves his hand back down to his hip.

  "You've been living off of my reputation and my success, but you still have dues that must be paid if you want to rise to the level that I'm at. I didn't want that for you, but if that's the life you're seeking, you need to recognize where you fall in the food chain."

  I've heard enough, so I stand up and put on my jacket. He's never respected me, the Kings, or what we've done to help make him the success that he thinks he is. I'm ready to get out of here. I'm going to fuck Elizabeth good and hard for making me agree to this waste of an hour.

  "Wait," he says in a tone of voice that sounds almost regretful.

  I finish putting on my jacket. "What?"

  "The thing you said about bringing brother and sister together."

  "What about it?"

  "Do you think you can do it?"

  "I don't know. Why don't you tell me what happened between you and her family that made them hate you so much?"

  "Nothing in particular. Loving Juliette."

  "Well they're seriously taking out that shit on me. Elizabeth's father made it quite clear. Their bigger issue with me isn't necessarily that I'm related to their daughter by marriage, but that I'm your son. They dislike me, but they despise you."

  "You may be right about that."

  "Plus I don't really give a rats ass if brother and sister never talk again. It doesn't affect me either way."

  "See that's another area where we differ. It makes me question the depth and sincerity of your
so-called feelings for your cousin. All I see are advantages to making sure brother and sister reunite. The main one being that it will make my wife happy, and I would move heaven and earth to make Juliette happy. You obviously wouldn't do the same for Elizabeth. You need to ask yourself if she's what you really want, or more importantly if you've even earned the right to have her."

  I hate the old man sometimes. He's an asshole. Especially because he has the unique ability to make me second-guess myself and call me on my shit like no other. All this lunch has managed to do is piss me the fuck off. Elizabeth is definitely going to have to give me a repeat performance tonight to help me heal myself of all of the fucking passive aggressive jabs he's taken at me today.

  I start walking towards the front door. I want to get the hell out of here in the worst way. He didn't really have to bother telling me again how my existence wasn't planned or wanted. That has always been crystal clear. Yet there's something about hearing it from his own lips, though, that makes me resent him just a tad bit more than I already did before I walked in this house.

  We were never ultra close, but there were times when Joseph gave me glimpses of what a good father should look like. He took me to buy my first car. He introduced me to boating. He actually attended a couple of parent-teacher nights. He brought me into the family business. It's the knowledge of him doing these things, things he didn't have to do, that have always been at war with the man who left me without a second glance in the care of my crazy ass mother. The man who took years to get it sort of right. The man who basically just told me to my face that I don't deserve Elizabeth. That I'm not worthy.

  Am I?

  CHAPTER THREE

  ROMAN

  This is the second best feeling in the world.

  My knuckles connecting with the jaw of a complete prick.

  His face twisting and contorting from the impact.

  Blood splattering across the sleeves of my hoodie and the concrete.

  My heartbeat steady.

  My breathing calculated.