The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(93)

“Roman,” she says, her voice a whispery sigh.

“Why aren’t you here, Ana?”

“Roman, what happened, I… I don’t think we should… It was a mistake.”

“The hell it was. I’m going to send a car over.”

“Roman, don’t. It’s late. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’m dead on my feet. All I want to do is crawl in my bed and sleep.”

“You can do that in my bed.”

“We both know if I give in to that, we wouldn’t be sleeping.”

“We would eventually.”

“Roman, I don’t fit into your world.”

“You’re in my world, pet. You work in my club.”

There’s silence on the phone. Then she whispers one word so quiet I strain to hear it. “Temporarily.”

“Ana, I don’t think you understand that I’m not giving you a choice in this.”

“Roman, listen to me. I know it’s hard to grasp, but I’m saying no to you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I noticed,” she sighs. “My life is complicated right now. I have enough on my plate. I can’t get mixed up in whatever trouble you have going on.”

“Trouble?” I question, my body going tight.

“Police don’t raid just anyone, Roman. I have a brother in trouble. He’s all the anxiety I can handle right now. He’s missing and I just—”

“My business is my business, Ana. Whatever happens between us, my professional life is not your concern. It does not touch you.”

“You can’t promise that, but it doesn’t matter. I told you, I have to concentrate on finding Allen and I just don’t have time in my life for a relationship.”

“Again, pet, I don’t do relationships and I’m not asking.”

“Gee, Roman. You don’t date, you don’t do relationships … What exactly do you do?”

“I’ll show you. Be ready. My car will be there in fifteen.”

“I can’t, Roman. At least not tonight. I just got back in after looking for my brother and I’m just too tired to move. I’m going to nap and then head out in the morning.”

Frustration runs through me at her words. Do I tell Ana and demand she gives in to me? Do I finish off her brother and say nothing? There are two clear paths and yet I don’t take either, mainly because I want Ana, but the first choice smacks of desperation and that’s not who I am. Ana will be mine. What happened between us tonight did nothing but chisel that in stone.

“I’m sending my car over. You can sleep here and sleep in.”

“Roman, I can’t. My—”

“I will help you find your brother, Ana. Now get enough stuff together for a couple of days and I’ll have my driver pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“You’ll help me find Allen?” she asks, her voice full of disbelief.

She could join the crowd. The minute I said the words, I wanted them back. It’s too late and what’s done is done. I have no f*cking idea what I’m doing other than getting Ana in my bed. That seems to be the only important thing right now.

“I don’t know the particulars,” I tell her, lying, “but tomorrow we’ll talk and I’ll help you. I’m sure my contacts are better than yours.”

“Roman,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“Twenty minutes, Ana.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Good. See you soon,” I tell her before clicking the phone off and calling my driver and giving him Ana’s address. I go to the bar and poor myself a drink while undoing my cufflinks and putting them down. I take off the tie completely and unbutton my shirt, leaving it on. I collapse in the chair facing the bed, drink in hand.

Chasing a woman. What the hell is wrong with me? I hope I know what the f*ck I’m doing.





Paul is going to kill me. Hell, I might even kill me if Roman doesn’t beat us both to the punch. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I couldn’t resist though. When Roman said he would help me find Allen, I had to give in. I’d like to play the martyr and say that’s the only reason I gave in, but it would be a lie. I wanted to see Roman again. I wanted to have this time with him. It has nothing to do with my brother. Jesus, maybe being f*cked up runs in my family. I thought I might have been the one sane one, but signs are starting to point to the fact that I’m as screwed up, if not more, as my mother and Allen combined.

I spend the next fifteen minutes throwing a few things in an overnight bag and mentally berating myself. The longer I think about what I just agreed to, the more my nerves close in around me. When someone starts knocking on my door, I nearly jump out of my skin. I pull the strap of my satchel over a shoulder and walk to the door, cursing myself silently in my head.

“Who is it?”

“I’m Mr. Anthes’s driver. He said you would be expecting me.”

“I’m ready,” I tell him, opening the door. I’m also lying through my teeth. He’s a tall man, maybe about the size of Roman, but he definitely lacks his presence. He’s wearing a black suit and keeps his hand on my back the entire walk outside. He takes me to a large, black, stretch limousine.