Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(65)

I jerked upright, tossing a shirt on, when a shriek left Grier’s mouth.

“Oh my God, you shaved! Roman, you are gorgeous!”

I wished people would stop saying that. No real man wanted to be described as gorgeous or beautiful. I wasn’t a fucking cocktail dress. But seeing the look on Jesse’s face last night when I’d climbed through her window was enough to make me stand by my decision. She’d looked at me with soft eyes, and her sudden submission was worth waxing the rest of my body, too.

Without sparing Grier an answer, I flung my sheet back and darted to the kitchenette, where I charged my phone. I had a few text messages, and I dreaded almost all of them.



Darren

Are you here?



Darren

Of course you are not here. You called me asking for an urgent meeting, which you didn’t even show up to. I waited for you. Now I’m going to be stuck in traffic for hours.



Darren

It better not be about Jesse. I know she has a new job with you and that she is making friends with a bald girl who came to pick her up for the mall today. But you still need to get her to meet more people, make more friends. The six months are not up yet.



I hadn’t even known about Gail and Jesse, but I was happy they’d hit it off. Gail was a solid chick. Then there was another message. One I didn’t dread.



Snowflake

At the mall with Gail. I thought I’d treat you to this beauty, because I know you like orange.



She sent me a picture of her with an orange onesie. Not only the color, but the fruit. I snort-laughed, shaking my head. I shot her a quick message before returning my gaze to a confused Grier.



Bane

Delicious to a fault, but we’re gonna do something about this orange onesie. For one thing: take it off of you once I see you. x



Yeah. I ended a message with an x. I really was a special kind of fucked.

Grier tapped her foot nervously, her arms crossed over her chest, glancing at her Cartier. She kept her clothes on, which told me that she already knew what was up. I’d bailed on our hookup last week, and frankly, I was about to ditch this one, too, and would have, if I hadn’t crashed like a goddamn meteor. I plucked two beers from the fridge and handed her one. It was time for an uncomfortable conversation.

She took a sip and looked down at her shoes. “Jesse Carter,” she said.

I walked over to the door leading to the deck, parking my forearms on the rusty railways. She mirrored my movements, doing the same. We both stared at the waves crashing on rocks by the shore.

“Brian said you asked for him to pull out her case file and sniffed around who worked on it.”

I had, a second after I’d cleaned my cum-coated dick the day Jesse and I had fooled around in the storage room. Maybe she didn’t want to retaliate, but I wasn’t going to go on pretending these assholes hadn’t done anything to her. They had. And they were going to pay. The fact that I had to chase two of them away not too long ago meant they did not understand the error of their ways. And nothing, and no one, was going to harm Jesse.

I shrugged. “This whole goddamn town knows what happened, but the little dipshits are still free. How is that okay?”

Grier’s eyes sparkled like the water underneath us. Even in my periphery, I saw that she was emotional, but not about Jesse.

“You know, I never thought you’d fall in love. That’s what made you such a safe bet,” she said, wiping the cold mist of her beer bottle on her dress. “There was something so detached about you when I met you. Like you were here, but not really. It made sleeping with you so easy. So…uncomplicated. And I know a lot of other women share this sentiment. Yes, you were paid. Yes, you were an escort. But you were decent. Discrete and cool and nice to talk to. You didn’t make us feel cheap or tacky, or like freaks. You were always a true gentleman, Bane.”

I didn’t really know how to respond to this. I noticed that she talked about me in past tense, and that was a relief. She knew that we were over. I swiveled my body to face her, resting my hip on the railway.

“You’ll find someone better. Someone who’ll give you more than a quickie once a week.”

“Maybe I can have a full-blown affair this time.” She smiled bitterly. “With feelings and all.”

I made a gagging sound. “Ugh. Feelings.”

“How would you know what they’re like?” she teased.

Because I’ve been ambushed by the fuckers and can’t seem to shake them off.

We shared one of the most awkward hugs in the history of embraces. It was only when she let go of me that I realized I was relieved. I was done with the bullshit, with or without Snowflake. Really, she was the kick in the ass I’d needed all this time. And what a fucking kick that was. My tailbone was still sore.

“I’m a little jealous of Jesse Carter,” she said to me when I walked her to my door. I rubbed the back of my neck.

Don’t worry. I’ll fuck it up at some point, I’m sure.

When Grier left, I walked over to my kitchen nook, took my phone out of my back pocket, and started going over every single client on my contact list. I decided to go for something laconic, firm, and polite. Thing was, I wasn’t much of a diplomat, so after much thinking, I came up with this: