Trapped by the Bastard's Kiss

Chapter 4

As Roman settled into his seat behind his desk the next morning, a deep groan involuntarily escaped his throat. He sounded like an old man, and it almost made him grimace. Unfortunately, he also felt like an old man.

Regardless of all his attempts to relieve the stiffness and discomfort that plagued his neck and shoulders, he remained trapped in an unwelcome state of bodily ache. Every twist and stretch he attempted provided only temporary relief, leaving him longing for a more lasting solution to his discomfort.

“Well, you look absolutely refreshed and well-rested, sir. Did you manage to get your beauty sleep?” Clementine asked as she stepped into his office, holding a folder in one hand and his insulated travel mug in the other.

Unlike normal people, who drank their coffee at the office out of fancy china, Roman preferred his travel mug, and Ms. Clementine made sure it was ready before his butt even registered it was in his seat. “Long night, sir?” she pressed when he did not respond to her first quip.

“Not the kind you are imagining,” he grumbled.

Clementine scoffed as she set everything down in front of him. “You have no idea what I imagine. And if I thought one of your cheap bed escapades left you looking like that… I would be on the phone with the police, filing assault charges on your behalf. You are twisting and groaning like you went ten rounds with a grizzly bear.”

“Honestly, Clementine, your humor leaves much to be desired. I fell asleep in my chair so now my neck and back hurt. Satisfied?”

“Want me to arrange for a masseuse to come in and work those knots?”

The idea was tempting, but Roman shook his head no, then frowned because the movement awoke another discomfort he hadn’t noticed. Damn, maybe he should really consider the offer of a professional masseur before he curled into a ball in the corner and cried like a hopeless baby. Not that he would ever dare do something like that in his office. Clementine would probably take several pictures for future reference before calling his mother. And if there was one thing worse than Ms. Clementine’s teasing, it was his mother fussing over him like he was still a little boy and not a grown man on his way to becoming a millionaire. No thank you, Roman thought vehemently.

A beat passed and Roman realized Clementine was patiently waiting for his final word.

“No. Just get Sean on the line and tell him I want to see him here in ten minutes.”

His secretary let out an audible scoff once more, shaking her head in disapproval, conveying her clear thoughts on what she obviously thought was his stubbornness at work. Without uttering another word, she turned and left the room, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the silence as she departed.

Eighteen minutes later, Sean Hebb barged into Roman’s office without bothering to knock, as was his usual habit. Being best friends for so long, Sean’s informal approach was expected and actually accepted. Even Ms. Clementine wouldn’t raise a brow at it. At six feet and two inches tall, Sean’s dark-skinned muscular physique, akin to that of a professional quarterback, was clad in his standard attire of jeans and a t-shirt, that was stretched dangerously close to tearing across his wide chest, just the way Sean liked it. As he came to a stop in front of Roman’s desk, his face twisted into a scowl of disapproval.

“Since when do you summon me to your office like one of your employees?”

Roman leaned back in his leather seat and smirked, ignoring the ache in his muscles. “Since I realized if I irritate you, you will get here quicker to scowl at me. Otherwise, it would have taken you five hours to get in here.”

Sean opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but then shut it again and just scoffed before dropping his muscular body into one of the two chairs in front of Roman’s desk.

“So what was so important you wanted me to teleport myself here like a ninja?”

Looking at his friend from one bulged shoulder to the other, Roman arched his brow. “Dude, no ninja school would accept you.”

“f**k you. I would make an excellent ninja. Haven’t you watched Kung Fu Panda? Size doesn’t matter.”

Laughter burst out of Roman’s chest before he could hold it back. “At least you don’t have a potbelly,” he said, still laughing.

Sean smiled. “See? I already have points in my favor.”

“Indeed.” Roman shook his head, then groaned when his stiff muscles complained.

“What happened to you? You don’t look so hot.”

“Goodness,” Roman grumbled. “No one is sugarcoating their comments today. I slept in my chair. I just have a stiff neck.”

Sean frowned. “What was wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing,” Roman snapped and then paused and exhaled to calm himself. “I just spent dinner at Frederick’s house and couldn’t settle down when I got home.”

His friend gave a “Ha.” of understanding and nodded. “That would do it. What did the old lizard want this time? And did you say dinner? Did they actually let you eat? Like a full plate with food on it?”

“Human food. They even served me wine and dessert. The excellent wine, too.”

“Damn. Now I’m more worried than curious.”

“You and me both, my friend,” Roman admitted with a thoughtful frown. He looked up and stared at his friend and he spoke because he knew Sean would understand. They had been friends since their college days. They knew everything about each other there was to know. Other than his mother, Roman knew he could count on Sean to take a bullet for him if such a scenario ever occurred. So he let his friend read the emotions in his eyes. All the rage and confusion he felt. “Frederick introduced me as his youngest son to his future in-laws. He smiled and patted my back like a good old dad would do.”

“Where is supernatural justice when you need it? Thunder should have struck him down right there in the middle of his ugly house.” Sean was quiet for a moment, as though really giving the information some serious thought. Then he stood and went to Roman’s hidden fridge to grab a bottle of beer. Clementine always made sure was there in case he wanted it.

Sean lifted the bottle and took a long swig, his gaze fixed on the expansive glass wall in front of him, lost in thought. After a moment, slowly, he turned back to face Roman, his eyes searching for answers. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice colored with concern.

Roman rose from his seat and joined Sean, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he gazed out at the clear blue sky. Despite the promising weather outside, his mind was consumed with thoughts of the mysterious dinner and his father’s strange behavior. “I want you to dig deep into Frederick’s activities,” he said firmly. “I don’t buy that he suddenly developed a conscience and decided to make amends for twenty-seven years of being a worthless father. There’s more to this story, and I need to know what it is.”

Sean nodded. “I will check into it.”

His friend ran a security company, offering protection and investigative services to some pretty big names in the country. So Sean had access to contacts a little bit everywhere. If Frederick was cooking something in the shadows, Sean would find out and tell him.

Before Roman could change the subject and talk about something that didn’t cause his blood to boil with rage, he remembered the young woman with gorgeous curves, long black hair, and a mouth that would tempt the devil. s**t. He couldn’t believe he was about to say it, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“Also, run a check on a young woman by the name of Becky Quin.”

Sean paused, the bottle halfway to his mouth. He arched a curious brow at him. “And who is that?”

“Cole’s fiancee.”

“Oh, God, no. Roman…” Sean lowered the bottle and shook his head.

“I just want to know what her deal is,” he defended himself quickly.

Sean wasn’t buying it. “Don’t start s**t like that. There are too many women out there. They are practically falling over themselves to get into your bed. Certain doors you don’t want to open. Hell… You shouldn’t even be knocking at that damn door.”

“Stop panicking, Sean. I just want to know who she is. Nothing more. She’s not even my type.”

Sean arched a single brow, an annoying talent he liked to show off. He then took a long gulp from his bottle before adding, “If she’s breathing and has a p***y… she’s definitely your type.”

Roman turned and frowned at his best friend. “I don’t like how that makes me look.”

“The truth hurts. Haven’t you heard?”