Page 8 of Roman and Jules
“Yourson can’t be trusted in polite society. I didn’t want to invite him tonight! Or you! It wasn’t my idea!” Now the siblings were screaming at each other, and the other guests joined in the ruckus. Roman turned back to Ty who was back to shouting at him. Before Roman could finish what he’d started, a piercing whistle brought everyone to silence. Aunt Priscilla lowered her fingers from her lips and pinned them all with a stern look.
“So I’m to blame for this, am I?” Priscilla asked. “Because I want to see my family patch things up before I die? Yes, I’m the one who wanted you all here—it’s my party, is it not? If you’re going to shout and scream, then do it to me. It’s my fault you’re all here.”
Collette spun around, her mouth moving, but nothing coming out. At least the threat of enraging their richest and most influential family member had terrified her into silence. Her son was less congenial. He’d regained his mouth with his breath. “It’s Roman!” he shouted. “He threw me in the pool and brought Rosalyn. I didn’t start this.”
Roman glared at him. Ty’s wrongs against him were far worse.
“Oh, you poor idiot,” Aunt Priscilla snapped. “Then it all makes sense—of course you were forced to throw Roman against the refreshment table and spill food and punch all over me and my guests. Mark my words. One more fight—if I evenhearthe hint of one, so help me—then I will disinherit the both of you and stop you from taking over the business. Don’t think I won’t! This family is too divided!”
Ty wiped whipped cream from his face in short, angry movements. “What if he attacks me and I don’t fight back, am I disinherited too?”
Of course, Ty would ask that.The weasel.Roman glowered at him. He could just imagine what Ty might do to make that happen—he’d try to goad Roman beyond reason.
Great-Aunt Priscilla sighed heavily. “You turn the other cheek, you choose peace instead of war, and then, Tyson, my boy, yes, the meekwillinherit the earth. And you know exactly what I mean by that. As long as you don’t fight back, you’ll inherit what the other lost by swinging first.”
The slow smile that took over Tyson’s face told Roman everything that he needed to know.
“But it might not beyou,” Priscilla cried. “Do you have anything else to say?” She waited a millisecond before clapping her wrinkled hands together. “Great. I’m putting this in my will immediately.” Her hands separated to waggle a finger at her two great-nephews. “I love you boys, and I won’t have you fighting. I won’t, even if I must teach you a hard lesson.”
“Can I excuse myself to clean up?” Ty asked. Everything about him was as gentle as a kitten now, but Roman wasn’t fooled. The man had a calculating look; his mother had it too. After Great-Aunt Priscilla gave her permission with a nod, Ty fixed Roman with an overly patient stare. “If you don’t mind,cousin?”
Roman moved aside to let him go. He’d have used the same excuse to escape, but besides some ice on his shoulder that he brushed off with a swipe of his fingers, Roman was only a little wet. Ty wriggled free from the crowd and headed for the bathroom, avoiding the scowls from their other guests. His mother went after him, flapping her hands in her rush to catch up in her heels.
Roman exchanged glances with his father, whose hand went to his mouth while he tried to keep his expression sober. Obviously his father failed to see the seriousness of their two relatives retreating to plot against them. Roman couldn’t think of a way to stop it. He’d just have to find a way to beat them at their own game.
For now, he had other things to worry about. Jules, for one. He’d been merciless with his revenge against Ty, but she was the one who’d gotten hurt. He searched the crowd for any trace of Jules’s blonde hair and couldn’t find her. Roman groaned as his conscience weighed on him. After Ty’s initial tantrum at having his “toys” taken away, he couldn’t care less what happened to Jules; Ty’s heart was only set on his inheritance.
Roman, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about her, and she was gone. He set his fists against the floor and grimaced against his split knuckles as he pushed to his feet.
Chapter 5
Jules couldn’t escape the party fast enough. As soon as Great-Aunt Priscilla had stopped the fight and she was sure that Ty and Roman weren’t going to kill each other, she snatched up her purse and tugged on her boots before fleeing, refusing to talk to anyone. If she could find a quiet place to cry, even better.
She made a pit stop at the bathroom to pick up Kleenex, but the moment she stepped out of the building onto the hot pavement of the street, her hands were shaking so hard that she had to stuff the tissue into her purse. She didn’t need it anyway. Jules didn’t know if she was angry or in shock, but she couldn’t cry.
How had she misunderstood her relationship with Ty for a whole year? She wanted to be furious at him, but he clearly didn’t think he was cheating on her when he was going out with other women; he’d only considered it impolite to tell her about it. Was this how dating was now… until someone said the magic words of “let’s be exclusive” then it all meant nothing? She’d been so naïve. Where she’d grown up, if a man even held her hand in public that meant that they were official; but now that she was in the big city, she felt like she was an unwilling contestant onThe Bachelor, and she’d lost.
And worse, she still couldn’t get over her feelings for Ty. He clearly liked her. Before the fistfight, he had wanted to talk to her about what was going on between them, but would he ever appreciate her? She couldn’t hold his interest enough for him to make time for her now. And if he didn’t want to take it to the next level of committing after a whole year of dating, she wondered if he ever could. Maybe she should just give up. Her heart sank at the thought, but she was too much of a romantic to survive an indifferent man. She couldn’t handle it.
Now the tears came. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Not yet. She had to get home first, then she’d let them fall all over her pillow. There wasn’t a taxi in sight, so she walked down the road in her cowgirl boots to put as much distance as she could between her and her latest heartbreak.
The loud motor of a Harley sounded behind her. She swung around and saw Roman on it, like she was in a scene fromRebel Without a Cause—only instead of a greaser, she had a handsome biker in a designer suit. She noticed a blackening bruise on his cheek before he put on his helmet. “Get on.”
Jules gawked at him.
He reached behind him and found another helmet… as if that was the reason behind her hesitation. His veined hand palmed it like a basketball. “Here you go.”
She took an uncertain step towards him. “What are you doing?”
Roman hunkered over the handlebars, the muscles on his shoulder blades rippling down his back. “You want to forget him?”More than anything.But was this the wisest thing to do? Roman must’ve read her indecision because his lips broke into the smirk that she was already used to seeing on his face. “Let’s go.”
Strangely, that convinced her. After the humiliation of not being good enough for the man she loved, she was desperate to regain her confidence. Holding on to his arm, she readjusted her skirt so she could straddle the seat behind him. His shirt was all wet, and she remembered that his great-aunt had doused him with a pitcher of water to get him to stop fighting Tyson. The muscles on his shoulders flexed under her hands, and she could guess the strength behind those punches.
Her thoughts were too jumbled to care. Despite the coming storm—or maybe because of it—the night was still hot. As he took off down the street towards the brightly lit strip of Vegas, the wind blew through her hair and ruffled through his shirt so that they were both dry within minutes. She leaned into his back, smelling the woodsy scent of his cologne and something vanilla-scented from his hair. She breathed it in, not wanting to think anymore, just letting him take over the decisions as he brought her to the Strip.
The oversized palms swayed on either side of the street. The jeweled lights from the casinos competed for their attention as they raced past the fountains and night shows. Now that they were in the thick of it and no longer watching from their peaceful perch above it all, she saw the world was still very much awake. Crowds of people moved over the sidewalks, chattering and laughing and stopping to take pictures. She didn’t know where Roman was taking her, and she straightened to reach his ear with her lips. “My place is in Henderson. It’s about twenty minutes from here.”
“No, not yet,” he said. “I promised to make you forget him.”
