Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(17)
Before I could stop her, she pulled away, walking to the bedroom, and I followed. Mol pulled on the handle and the door burst open, Shelly came running straight toward me, jumping into my arms and crushing her fat lips against mine. “I want you, Rome. Fuck me, right here, right now.”
Her legs tightened around my waist and she began grinding her panty-less crotch against my jeans. Clasping the top of her arms, I pushed her back, my attention honing in on the door. It was shut, and Molly was gone.
Fuck!
Turning, I threw Shelly off me and onto the bed. “What the f*ck, Shel?” I hissed.
She wobbled to her knees, smiling, her red lipstick smeared all over her teeth. “Daddy called, told me we’re getting hitched next July. I wanted to celebrate with you.”
Something within me broke, and Molly’s advice circled my brain. You can’t live your life for other people, Rome. You have to do things that you want, achieve your dreams, in any way you want to do it.
She was right. Fuck, she was right! What the hell was I doing?
Staring at Shelly on the bed, I asked, “Why do you want to marry me, Shel? You don’t love me. I don’t love you. What’s the pull?”
“I do love you! I always have,” she slurred.
Shaking my head in exasperation, I argued. “No, you love the idea of me. Fuck, Shel, you don’t even know me. How can you love me? How can you want this friggin’ engagement? Don’t you want a man who’ll love you back?”
Her eyes glossed and her shoulders slumped. “My daddy wants it to happen. My momma taught me from a young age what it would be like to marry for money, and like most women in my position, I would have to let you do your own thing, have your little flings. I accept that. But in society’s eyes, I would always be your wife. I would be the one on your arm at social functions and I would be the mother to your kids. We could give each other what our folks—and Tuscaloosa’s society—expect.”
Her gaze had dropped during her speech, but then she looked up at me with her bloodshot eyes and said, “I’m not stupid, Rome, despite what you think. I know you don’t love me, but, let’s face it; it’s not about love, is it? It’s who we are, who we were raised to be.”
“Don’t you want more for yourself? Don’t you have dreams? Things you want to achieve away from all the pressure to be something that we’re not? Hell, Shel, I’m not made for that kind of life! I’m football player. That’s what I was born to be, not some miserable suit!”
Her head began to shake back and forth. “No! I don’t have something like football as an alternative. I don’t have a perfect four-point GPA or some other skill to use as a backup. I’m a Blair, and you know what, Rome? I want the life my momma has, and I need you to make that happen.” Her eyes narrowed and, glancing at the open balcony, she stated, “And I will do anything to get it.”
I straightened at her thinly veiled threat, realizing there was no getting through to her in this state. “It ain’t happening, Shel. I’m sorry.”
Whipping back to face me, she once again adopted her usual bitch fa?ade and shouted, “You’re such a selfish prick! Think of me! If it’s about sex, don’t worry. You know I’d f*ck you anytime you wanted. It’s all here for you to take! The perfect life on a silver platter!”
“Have some damn pride, woman!”
“I have pride, but I’m starting to wonder if you even have a dick, *ing out of your duty and acting like a whining little bitch instead of just doing what you’re told!”
I strode to the end of the bed, Shelly shuffling back at the severe look on my face. “You and me—never happening. You’re pathetic and I hate everything you stand for. I’ll never marry you. Ever. You get me?”
She faltered for a moment before answering. “You will, Rome. I’ve known you my whole life and you’ve always done what your folks told you to do. What’s changed?”
It was rhetorical, but I glared at her for the longest time before smiling victoriously. “Everything.”
I pounded out of Ally’s room, not bothering to evict Shelly, and went searching for Molly to make sure she was okay. Down on the lawn, I spotted her on a bench with Ally, Jimmy-Don, the scary girl I’d seen with Jimmy-Don, and some chick with black lips and jet-black hair.
Molly looked so pissed off, so sad, and, not wanting to cause a scene, I got the hell out of there. I needed to do something while I had the courage, something that was in no way going to be easy but had to be done to finally break free.
I just hoped I didn’t live to regret it.
5
“Mr. Prince will see you now, Rome.”
I rose from the cold, hard leather couch in the vast, sparsely decorated white lobby and, nodding at Jean, my daddy’s assistant, I entered his office, firmly closing the door behind me.
There he sat, king of the whole f*cking world, dressed in his black pinstriped power suit, behind his desk, scowling as I approached. “Rome. To what do I owe this pleasure?” I caught the sarcasm in his voice but ignored it and slumped into the free chair at his desk.
“I need to speak to you,” I said firmly, embracing the detached numbness I always felt in his presence.
He sat back, smirking, crossing his arms. I’d never come to him like this before, and it had obviously humored the bastard. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”