Page 87 of More Than Nothing
“Charming.” Zena’s voice was teasing in his ear. “Anyone would think you weren’t missing me at all.”
He frowned and shook his head. What the hell was she talking about? “Did you mean to call me? This is Roman.”
She gave a flirty little laugh. “I’m at work, so I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m calling about next weekend.”
And just like that, he understood. Roman wondered who was listening to Zena’s end of the call. He felt his irritation building and fought the urge to hang up on her.
“Right. Your work event. When and where is it?” His voice held all the warmth of a slushie.
“It’s at the Monarch Club, at the top of the Metropolitan Building. Saturday from seven p.m. Evening dress. I can’t wait to see you, darling.”
“I’ll check my schedule and see what I can do.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to work something out. It’s so important for us both to find the time to get together.”
He didn’t miss the warning in her words. “I’ll be in touch.”
Hanging up in the middle of her goodbye, Roman chucked his cell onto the desk. The exchange left him feeling grubby, complicit in something he wanted no part of. Damn Zena for adding another layer of complication where it wasn’t needed.
A night out with friends toward the end of the week was a welcome change. The Rusty Barrel was busy for a Thursday, but Milo, Cait, and Summer, arriving first, had managed to snag one of the booths. Luke finally fought his way to the bar, ordering and handing back bottles and glasses to Thea, who ferried them to the table.
By the time Roman and Dougie had closed down a busy shift, both were in desperate need of a drink. Running his hand through hair still damp from the quick shower he’d had at the station, Roman rotated stiff shoulders and hoped a beer would take the edge off.
Dougie pulled Summer in for a firm kiss. “Needed that!” he drawled. She curled into his side and Roman pushed down on the swirl of envy in his chest.
“Tough day?” Thea took a seat at the end of the booth.
“Just busy.” He shrugged. “Trying to pull a lot together at the moment. On top of the usual.” He was in the mood for company but not for talking. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to offer much. There were enough people around the table who enjoyed chatting a lot more than he did.
Proving him right, Milo, Cait, and Dougie kicked off a discussion about living off-grid, fueled by a recent documentary. Dougie listed all the things he’d be unable to live without. Cable TV and takeout, mainly. A man of simple tastes.
Roman let his attention wander and took a long swallow of beer.
A chilly blast of evening air hit the back of his neck as the door of the Barrel swung open again and a small group entered the bar. It was as if he’d conjured Elenie up in person from plain wishful thinking. Craig Perry laughed with Tyson Dax, who had his arm slung around a curvy blonde. Another couple he didn’t recognize led the way and, following along behind, stopping to close the door, was Elenie, casually dressed in jeans and a thin shirt. Roman forced his face into impassivity and watched her out of the corner of his eye.
The group drifted toward the bar. Dax and Perry pushed their way to the front; Elenie hung back and looked around. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind one ear, a habit of hers he loved. He remembered how it had felt between his fingers when he held her face in his hands, the scent of her shampoo in his nose. Roman shifted in his seat. Her wary gaze zeroed in on him—and swept straight past. He allowed himself the tiniest lift of his lips. This gorgeous girl who held his heart in the palms of her hands was one tough customer.
Perry pushed away from the bar, holding a bottle of beer and nothing for Elenie. He headed for the pool table. Cheapskate. In a smooth, fluid movement, Roman unfolded himself from the boothand strolled unhurriedly to the bar. Seconds later, he knew without turning that Elenie stood next to his elbow. The desire to study every inch of her face was overwhelming. It actually hurt to ignore the pull. He kept his stance relaxed, forearms on the bar, his eyes on the bustling bar staff as they served each customer. A fractional movement to the left and his leg bumped Elenie’s hip. He kept it there, lightly pressing against her. That tiniest of touches silencing the need that burned inside him.
He caught the eye of one of the bartenders—Kai Mason, cohost of the party which had proved so memorable for Millie Westlake for all the wrong reasons. Roman didn’t hold it against him, no matter how much Kai flushed every time their paths crossed. House parties were a rite of passage. For most people it didn’t end up being one of the worst nights of their lives. He gave Kai his order and tacked on a gin and tonic for Elenie. When it appeared on the bar in front of him, he pushed it gently her way. “It kills me not being able to talk to you or hold you when I see you.” Roman ducked his head to murmur the words in her ear, still not looking at her as he spoke.
Elenie gave an involuntary shiver. She dipped her chin. “Same.”
He gathered up a handful of drinks and strode back to the booth. When he returned for the rest, she was already on the other side of the bar, watching Perry and Dax playing pool.
The evening passed pleasantly enough. Florence joined them just after ten, walking in with a guy he hadn’t seen before. She was happy and lit up; her date was quiet but attentive. Roman listened and assessed and decided his little sister didn’t need his input. But if she did, he’d be there for her. Right now, it was enough that he could look her in the eye without losing himself to dark memories of a squalid trap house.
And all the time, even as he enjoyed the company of his closest friends, he maintained a razor-sharp awareness of everything happening on the other side of the bar.
Tyson Dax was drinking heavily. More friends had joined them and the group was getting rowdy. Perry’s overloud belly laugh rang out repeatedly. Round after round of shots were necked, although Elenie still seemed to be sipping the drink he’d bought her. She sat quietly on a bar stool tucked into a corner until Perry decided to drag her off it to play pool. One day, Roman swore he would make the Brit pay for all the times he’d laid his hands on her so roughly. Elenie’s reluctance was obvious, but she eventually shrugged, taking the pool cue from Perry like it was a foreign object, while he pushed her toward the table.
“Every time I think that guy can’t be more of a dick, he manages it.” Thea mirrored his gaze. Roman grunted.
Elenie missed almost every ball she aimed for. When she bent over anywhere near Perry, he either slapped her ass or grabbed her thighs.
“Fuck off, Craig.”
Roman read the words clearly on her lips and it made him smile. A second later, a sixth sense for trouble wiped the grin from his face.
