Page 50 of Of Grief And Gratitude

“That’s the worst.” I tested the coffee in my cup and found it hot but drinkable if I took small sips. I looked longingly at the cream and sugar station, but Ben launched into conversation.

“I had fun at the bar.” He bounced his knee under the table nervously, and I wondered if I was intimidating enough to set him on edge like that. “Do you go there a lot?”

I shrugged, unsure of what answer he was looking for. “Sloane and I go once or twice a week since her brother owns the place.”

“Right, forgot about that. O’Connor’s.” Ben pointed out the name, though I already knew it well. He ran a hand through his short-cropped brown hair. “Maybe we could go again together? Without the almost bar fights?”

His reticence made me laugh, though I wasn’t sure he aimed for humor. “I can’t make any promises about the bar fights, but we could play pool or throw darts.”

Ben paled at my joke, and I had my answer. “Is there a night when things are a little calmer?”

“I’m not sure O’Connor’s is ever quite as calm as other establishments,” I offered. It was getting harder to see what we might have in common underneath all the awkward conversations. “But you get used to the antics the regulars get up to. Bar fights aren’t nearly as common as you might think.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded after a long pause. “Thursday night?”

“It’s not as crowded as Friday or Saturday.” I looked down, staring at my coffee between sips and wondering how soon I could fake a forgotten engagement to get out of the tedious date. Rain pelted against the windows, adding to the background noise and making leaving less appealing.

“No.” Ben shook his head, and I frowned in confusion. “I wasn’t asking how crowded it is on Thursdays. I was asking if you want to go with me Thursday. Or we could go to dinner somewhere quiet where we can talk.”

I sputtered my coffee when he mentioned talking. Why would he want to spend an evening in a quiet restaurant where he had no choice but to converse with me? And what did it say that I’d rather spend time with Ben, not talking to him, than listen to him drone on about his job between awkward pauses?

A presence loomed over my shoulder, but I didn’t have time to turn before I heard him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Riona?” Romeo’s voice was deceptively calm, but the warning laced therein sent a shiver down my spine.

“Shit,” I breathed, turning slowly, my face level with the bulge in Romeo’s suit pants. I wondered if the man was a shower and a grower because I couldn’t tell whether he had a semi or if it was just his natural state.

He cleared his throat, and I jumped, my eyes darting up to his face where he smirked dangerously, a dark brow lifted. “See something you like, mia fiamma?”

“What are you doing here?” I blurted, thrown off by his unexpected presence. It was like he’d stolen my ability to weave the right words together, leaving me a sputtering mess. He knew it, too.

Romeo reached his hand out and twisted a wayward curl around his finger until it sprang free, running his fingertips lightly down my neck behind my ear. My nipples hardened, and I was thankful for the sweater I wore.

“Can you blame me for wanting to spend more time with my girlfriend?” He never dropped that smug smile as his large palm settled heavily on my shoulder, his grip reminding me of his strength.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing when I realized Ben still sat across from me, brows drawn together and jaw set. “Girlfriend? What does he mean, Riona?”

“It’s not what it seems,” I stammered, desperate to be understood in a situation that was more fucked up than I could explain. Sweat gathered between my breasts, and I grabbed the front of my sweater, pulling it away from my body to let air flow through.

“Come now, Riona,” Romeo purred, his hand moving to the back of my neck and massaging my tense muscles in a move that was all a show of power. “It’s exactly as it seems. Who is your… friend?”

Fuck that man and all his pretending he didn’t know how to act. He knew exactly what he was doing, as his threatening presence practically seeped from his pores into the surrounding air. I refused to utter Ben’s name, worried about what it might mean for the innocent man. I’d never heard the particular tone lacing Romeo’s voice, but if I had to venture a guess, I’d opt for deadly predator.

I cringed as Ben pushed his chair back and stood to face Romeo, looking up because of their height difference. “I’m Ben. And I guess I’m a fool because I thought Riona was different.”

That hurt. I couldn’t tell him the truth without betraying both families.

Ben glared at me. “I guess you’re one of those girls.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t have to ask because Romeo stiffened and took a step toward Ben, his bulk blocking the other man from my view for a second. “What the fuck does that mean, Ben?”

“Nothing.” Ben shrank back and shrugged, straightening his suit jacket, having the sense to give up when losing. “It means you can have her. I’m not interested in a rental.”

Romeo laughed, but it was void of humor. “You never had her.”

“I’m glad.” Ben’s face turned nearly plum with emotion, a cross between embarrassment and anger. “Nobody wants a girl every other man has taken for a spin.”

I reached out to pull Romeo’s arm back when he lunged for Ben, but I wasn’t strong enough to stop him. Ben was faster than I’d expected, jumping back and knocking his chair over before tumbling to the floor.

---