Masterson

ROMAN

I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HER from running. That's what a smart man would have done. Damn she was beautiful. Those white jeans hugging every one of her mouth watering curves like a glove. Those perfect tits. That fucking mouth. Those eyes, almond shaped and evocative. I'd love to know what she was thinking about that made her eyes wary of me for just a moment, then warm, then something else. It's the something else that I'm most interested in. I'm not used to that type of layered reaction from a woman. I'm used to attraction and definitely lust, but not whatever that was.

I'm not a superstitious person, but there's no way in hell that I can't recognize a sign when I see one. I see this woman twice in a week and both times I find her on the ground needing my help. I made my mind up to start looking for her at The Lotus and not even twenty-four hours later, she appears to me like a water apparition to a thirsty man in the hot desert. At the very least, I need to know who she is, why she keeps ending up in the middle of the floor, and why the fuck she keeps running from me. I figure the easiest path to the information I need may be obtained if I head back over to the chatty blond bartender.

"I'm looking for Edmonds," I say to her.

"What do you need with him again?" she asks seductively. "Maybe I can help you."

She whips all of her hair to the side, so that I have a clearer view of the side of her slender neck and her breasts. She has a nice rack, but she's not who or what I'm interested in at the moment.

"The woman I was talking to. I need to know which private party she's with."

"Why?" she asks with a tinge of jealousy in her voice. I'm used to women being territorial with me, and typically I enjoy it, but I don't have the patience for this shit right now.

"Do you know or not?"

Her mouth twists in disapproval, but she gives me an answer anyway. "She's in the Madison room."

"Madison?" I repeat.

"Yep," she answers dismissively as she goes to take an order from another patron.

That's the room my party is in. Joseph's party.

The only other sign I need.

She's mine.

* * *

WHEN I ENTER THE DOORS OF The Madison room, I immediately start scanning the room looking for Elizabeth but unfortunately lock eyes with the old man first. I can see the disapproval simmering behind the frozen glare he's giving me. It's his birthday, and his precious Juliette threw him a party for which I am late. He's not going to say anything to me about it, but he doesn't have to. The look he's throwing my way says it all. My father has always been tough on me. I'm used to it. So I nod to him in acknowledgement of his birthday and in silent apology for being late as well. I'm sure he'll make me pay for it in some other way in the very near future.

When I was a kid and my mother took off for over three weeks, which was the longest stretch of time she had ever left home, I ran out of food and money and finally broke down and called Joseph. We weren't close like a typical father and son, but I was desperate. I didn't know it at the time, but my mother was suffering from bipolar disorder in addition to being an addict. She would sometimes leave to go on a binge but had never been missing that long. When Joseph came to pick me up he told me, "You're never coming back here again. So make your peace with it. You're going to be better than this. Forget about this place."

For a while, things were good. I tried to be the son that Joseph wanted me to be. Smart. Respectful. Appreciative. Controlled. Ambitious. The son of a rising millionaire. But I'd been taking care of my mother and myself a little too long in the 'hood to let go of all of my bad habits. My dirty mouth. My temper. My trust issues. My problem solving skills. My penchant for pussy.