Masterson Made

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “Watch it,” I warn her. “He has an earring fetish and those look expensive.”

  “It’s fine, isn’t it, Knox?” she asks in a hushed tone as she continues to pat him. “You will not do anything to Mimi’s anniversary hoops, will you?”

  Knox sighs heavily and continues to play with her earlobe. He really is an easy baby once you give him what he needs. Food, a dry diaper, and affection. That’s all my little peanut needs. I don’t know why everyone’s so worried that I can’t take care of my boy without all this help they claim I need.

  “You two look like you’re going to be just fine.”

  “We will be.”

  “Okay then, there’s a bottle in the fridge if Knox gets hungry and his favorite book is on the bedside table in his nursery. I’ll be in my office until I hear from Roman. Thanks for this, Auntie.”

  “It’s my pleasure. That’s what grandparents are for.”

  Even though it’s clear whose side Juliette is on, I feel a little more at ease that she’ll be here when Roman arrives home instead of the sitter. Maybe it’s because there’s always this low level of tension in the room when we’re together lately. Maybe it’s because I know that he will not be happy when I tell him that I cannot take part in whatever he has planned tonight. If he had just mentioned it earlier, I could have told him that today wasn’t a good day.

  But he rarely asks.

  He just decides, and they seem to always conflict with my own.

  Not to mention that nothing I do is ever good enough for him these days. He wants me to sleep more. He wants me to work less. He wants me to fuck him more and breastfeed my son less. Everything he wants is at complete odds with what I want… except for making love.

  That I would love to do.

  But when I attempt to think about anything remotely sexy, it’s two o’clock in the morning, I haven’t showered, and my breast ducts are filled with milk. What the frack is sexy about that?

  After my call with one of my app developers in Bangladesh, I quickly throw my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head, change into a clean shirt and shorts, and apply some lip gloss. This will be my third video chat with the president of Cabot University, and I’m finally allowing myself to become excited about this project.

  A magna cum laude graduate of Yale, he’s the youngest president in Cabot’s history and is so open to innovative ideas. I really think I have a strong chance of making School Bucks bigger in the collegiate space with a man like him making decisions.

  “Lovely to talk to you again, Miss Hill.”

  “Same here, President Maxwell.”

  “I’d prefer it if you called me Jacob. My father was a president of a bank and so he’s really President Maxwell.”

  “Okay.” I giggle. “If we’re ditching formalities, then you should call me Elizabeth.”

  “Perfect. So, Elizabeth, I wanted to see if we could talk dollars and cents.”

  “Sure thing. What are your questions?”

  “Well, in your estimation, what would it cost to integrate and promote School Bucks on our web platform? I want to give students the opportunity to apply for scholarships straight from their personal dashboards.”

  I do my best not to smile too widely and give away the fact that I am elated that he wants to make a bigger commitment. My one goal from this meeting was to negotiate a live link to our website from their scholarship page, something that would have been a major win for us, but to have complete integration with their student backend? That would be amazing.

  “Well, to be honest with you, I didn’t run figures for such a large roll out. I thought you’d only be referring the app to students not wanting a partnership with us.”

  “Let’s think bigger, Elizabeth. The School Bucks application is a great idea and long overdue. I don’t want Cabot graduates in vast amounts of debt when they walk out of our doors. I want them to easily access free grants and scholarships available to them so they can graduate from this university without tons of loans to worry about. I just recently paid off all of my student debt from graduate school five years ago, so I totally understand this. Implementation of your app will be transformational for some students, and it is in direct alignment with the university’s strategic plan.”

  I’m floored.

  I’m elated.

  I can’t wait to tell Roman about my meeting.

  “I’m so excited, Mister—” I accidentally revert back to addressing him formally. “I mean… Jacob. Thank you for the opportunity. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  Without a knock or any warning, Roman appears in my doorway dressed deliciously in black from head to toe. His sudden presence startles me and as my head whips around to face him, my messy bun falls out of the ponytail holder and curls fall wildly down and around my face.

  “You’re welcome,” Jacob continues talking through my computer screen, not realizing that anyone has entered the room. “And may I just say that you have some beautiful curls, Elizabeth?”

  Uh oh.

  10

  ELIZABETH

  I keep my eyes pinned on the brooding man I love in the doorway. I’m ashamed to admit it, but this is probably the first time in weeks I’ve truly taken a long look at him without being distracted by a call or the baby or whatever.

  He is the sexiest man on planet earth. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and has a five o’clock shadow covering his square jaw, and his tattoos look especially bright as they pop against the black tee he’s wearing. He is out of the view of the computer’s camera, so Jacob doesn’t know he’s there, but to me it feels like Roman is in every crevice of this room.

  “Could you hold on one second, Jacob?”

  I mute the sound on our video call without even waiting for a reply.

  “I’m in a meeting,” I say to Roman as gently as I can.

  He’s in a mood.

  I can feel the waves of disapproval rolling off of him, so I need to wrap things up with Jacob quickly before I get into any sort of a verbal joust with him.

  “I can see that.”

  “So… I’ll be finished shortly. Is everything all right downstairs with Aunt Juliette and Knox?”

  “Of course it is,” he replies with a little more bass in his voice than usual. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Roman doesn’t move from where he’s standing, and it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to. He just stares at the computer screen with malice emanating from his stormy obsidian eyes. I take a deep breath, turn around, and do the only thing I should at this point, unmute myself, and end the call quickly.

  “So, Mr. Maxwell—”

  “Ah, how soon we forget. It’s Jacob, remember?”

  “Right, I forgot that fast.” I smile painfully. “Jacob.”

  Roman slides one of the spare folding chairs I keep in the office abrasively across the floor. I do my best to ignore the fact that he has probably caused irreparable harm to my beautiful oak floors and that Jacob can also hear the ear-splitting sound.

  “Pardon me, but I just remembered that I have another call with one of my developers overseas. This is the only time he can talk because of the time difference. Would you mind terribly if we pick this up later? I’m so sorry.”

  “No need for apologies, Elizabeth. School’s out for the summer, so my load is a little lighter than normal. We can reschedule later in the week. What day is good for you?”

  Roman takes a seat in the chair and scoots himself closer to the view of my webcam. This is so embarrassing. I literally feel like wringing his neck.

  “Hello,” Jacob says with a friendly tone now that he notices Roman sitting next to me.

  I kick Roman’s calf with my bare foot so he’ll acknowledge Jacob’s greeting. I forgot that he does these crazy leg exercises that make the muscles in his calves feel like bands of steel. It’s no wonder that my toe throbs.

  “Hey,” he responds tersely.

  I don’t bother with any introductions because I’m mortified. Could he be an
y more unprofessional? I mean, this is the president of a whole damn university I’m trying to close a deal with.

  “So, um, let me get back to you on the date and time later today, Jacob. Is there any day that doesn’t work for you?”

  I imagine that Roman looks quite ominous dressed in his simple black T-shirt and black jeans to someone like Jacob. Right now he’s crossing his muscular arms across his chest, showcasing the intricate sleeves of custom ink that adorn both of them. This is all a ridiculous show to passive-aggressively let Jacob know that “my man” is in the room. He might as well pee on me.

  “I’m in meetings all day Wednesday but any other day will work. We just have to sync our schedules,” he replies.

  “Okay, in the meantime I’ll have my team send over a few projections of what we hope a complete Cabot and School Bucks integration would look like and estimates on cost.”

  Jacob nods his head in agreement and opens a large calendar on his desk. He leafs through the pages looking for the best time for us to speak again and I feel like I’m making a colossal mistake. The entire point of this virtual call was to get a commitment from the university today, and now that he wants to give it to me, I’m getting off of the phone for what? Because I’m embarrassed that my fiancé is acting like an asshole?

  “You know what, can you hold on for just another moment, Jacob? I think I may have figured out how to rearrange a few things and clear up my schedule so we can chat a little longer.”

  “That would be perfect. I’ll answer a few emails while I wait. Take your time.”

  “Thank you so much for your patience.”

  I mute the audio once again and adjust the monitor so we’re both out of the line of vision of the computer camera.

  “Roman, can I speak to you outside, please?”

  “Why can’t we talk right here? He can’t hear us.”

  “Roman, I’m not asking.”

  I stomp defiantly outside of the office and into the sitting room, which is one of my favorite rooms in the house because Sloan decorated it so beautifully. It’s a peaceful space decorated with clean lines and muted colors, plus, it’s the sunniest room on the second floor. I like to sit here when I’m reading a novel or just want a quiet moment away from the rest of my life.

  After a long defiant pause, Roman follows me into the room and stands silently against one wall, staring at me as if I’ve done something wrong.

  Typical.

  “I’m having one of the most important business calls of my life in there and you are acting like—”

  “I’m acting like what?”

  “A jealous brat.”

  He scoffs as if my comment is ridiculous. “Why would I be jealous when you’re already mine?”

  “I am my own woman and I have been for a very long time or haven’t you noticed?”

  “You are my woman because it says so in blue ink, above your hip, and underneath those shorts.”

  “Oh, stop it. Just what the hell are you doing? Jacob is the president of a university. I am trying to create a partnership with him. He clearly is interested so—”

  “Yes… he clearly is.”

  Roman slowly cracks the side of his neck, a telltale sign that he is losing patience with this conversation, but I don’t give a damn. I am one hundred percent right on this one. I won’t be bullied.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You two are already on a first name basis, he complimented you on your hair and not your ideas, and he definitely looked at your ass when you stood up from your chair just now.”

  “All you can see is a person’s ass when they stand up and turn around!”

  “Especially when they’re wearing running shorts at a business meeting.”

  “He was only supposed to see me from the neck up. I had to stand up and turn around because of you!”

  “That’s another thing. Why isn’t this is a regular phone call? Why do you have to talk to him on a video chat?”

  “Where is this coming from? I have virtual calls all the time. Would you rather me leave you and our son and drive clear across the state to go meet Jacob in person?”

  “Now you’re just being a smart-ass.”

  “And you’re just being an ass.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, you are, and I’m tired of it. In fact, I’m utterly exhausted. You’re exhausting the hell out of me.”

  “You want to know what I’m tired of?”

  “I’m dying to know. What could you be possibly tired of?”

  “I’m tired of the excuses.”

  “Excuses! Please elaborate.”

  “You’re too tired, you’re too busy trying to be everything to everybody, and you’re always on the most important business call of your life.”

  “You freakishly tall jerk! I just carried and delivered your colossal, ten pound son eight months ago, thank you very much. So yeah, I am tired and I am busy. Hell, I’m frackin’ supermom. I should get an award for bringing your child into the world. They should name a Medal of Honor after me!”

  “And what does giving birth to our love child have anything to do with being too busy to marry his father?”

  “What did you say?”

  “Or have you just conveniently forgotten about the big-ass diamond promise I put on your finger?” He points resentfully at my hand.

  Roman has never mentioned having a problem with us putting the wedding on hold until today, and to be honest, I haven’t given a vast amount of thought about it. We love each other. We’re raising our son together. I thought we were fine to wait until things settled down in our lives. I assumed we were on the same page.

  I have been consumed with all the growth in the business and with being a new mother. I’m not even sure how it happened. It’s not like we formally discussed waiting, but we just never really started planning. I want to marry him. He is my forever after. He and Knox are everything to me. How could he think this is some sort of avoidance issue for me?

  Dammit.

  The moment I realize that I’ve totally forgotten that Jacob is patiently waiting to finish our meeting, Roman recognizes it on my face.

  “You can call him back. We’re talking.”

  “I can’t just leave the president of—”

  “I don’t give one flying fuck what rinky dink college he is the president of.”

  “Well, I give all the fucks.”

  “I’m warning you, Elizabeth.”

  So maybe now I’m pissed too. Some of his points may be valid, but Roman is being unreasonable, and that man knows how to push all of my buttons both good and bad like no one else in the world.

  I stroll over to the mirror, slide my hands into the roots of my hair and fluff my curls a bit. I add some moisture to my lips by giving them a long lick and then I flippantly say to him, “Be right back, baby daddy.”

  I’m crystal clear that I’ve now officially pissed him off.

  “Elizabeth, don’t go in that office.”

  “And what are you going to do if I do?”

  “I doubt that you want to test that.”

  “This is not a test,” I say sarcastically. “I repeat, this is not a test.”

  I stroll back into my office, sashaying my hips exaggeratedly as I do. I lock the door behind me and take a seat. Jacob is still there, working on his computer, and pops his eyes back up when he sees me.

  “All good?”

  I unmute myself.

  “Yep.”

  “Great, I sent you an email that you can look at to help with cost projections.”

  “Wonderful, I’ll take a look right now and we can—”

  CRASH!

  The frame to the doorway of my office suddenly splinters into several large pieces.

  Roman—and my door—has literally become unhinged.

  11

  ROMAN

  I haven’t had pussy in thirteen days.

  Or a night of uninterrupted sleep in eight months.

  I
could go on and on about the reasons why, but the bottom line is that I’m breaking down this motherfucking office door because I’ve had enough.

  Sometimes physicality is the only way people understand me. Powerful people pay me an obscene amount of money to clean up their mistakes, which is not a cakewalk. You can’t just knock on the door of the attorney general and tell him to overlook the accidental murder of a young woman by the CEO of a billion-dollar entertainment firm.

  First, I have to convince him to let me inside the door, then I’ve got to hope he is amiable to being paid off, and if he isn’t, I may have to threaten him with bodily harm. You’d be surprised at how many times people don’t take the money. So I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve had to crack a couple of skulls and point my gun at someone’s temple more often than not to get the job done. Aggression can be an effective motivator, especially when it’s sexual and consensual.

  “Roman!” Elizabeth yells.

  She’s half startled, half pissed, and totally sexy.

  “Elizabeth, are you all right?” I hear a concerned voice from the computer monitor.

  “She’s fine,” I say succinctly for his benefit.

  I lift my tee up over my head, toss it behind me, and take both of my forearms and use them to slide everything on top of Elizabeth’s desk to the floor including her computer with the full screen of president “who gives a fuck” university. It sounds worse than it really is when everything comes crashing down to the floor, but making all of that noise is sort of the point.

  Now I have her full and undivided attention.

  “Did you just break my eighteen-hundred-dollar computer!”

  “I’ll buy you another one.”

  “There are words for deviants like you.”

  I stealthily move toward my woman with a mixture of determination, frustration and want. I miss Duchess like crazy. It’s incredibly sad to me how we see each other every single day, but we haven’t connected in what feels like forever.

  “Spontaneous?”

  “Crazy.”

  “Crazy for you.”

  “No, just batshit crazy.”