Chapter 69 69
Roman's Pov
After three hours of nonsensical action scenes and shooting the shit, I excused myself and walked home from the shooting range.
It was only a ten-minute walk, and the neighborhood’s layout provided little cover for hitmen. I also wore my standard Kevlar-reinforced clothing and carried a concealed gun and knives.
A small part of me secretly hoped someone would try and ambush me. I needed to vent my frustrations. Plus, once they made a move, I could retaliate.
Meanwhile, my bugs in Xavier’s office had proved useful. I hadn’t expected him to discuss too much sensitive information at work. While we were still close, I'd convinced him to install security cameras and plant bugs in his office to avoid similar betrayal like his former Beta. The fool agreed. Not knowing if the prices of planting are bugs. I planted mine. Now, all we had to do was to wait until the trials began.
I will bury his ass.
I’d water his car but nothing useful would come out of it, especially not when I might lose my edge and ram my fish into his face. Maisie would hate that and I didn't want to get on her bad books. Long story short: it put me in a really bad mood.
Instead of returning to the pack and listening to conversations about which pack is stronger, I made it to my penthouse and challenged Cole to a duel.
Cole’s punch snapped my head back with such force my teeth rattled. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and when my vision finally cleared, his frown came into focus like a photograph in a developing tray.
“That was an easy dodge. Where’s your head today?”
“It was one hit. Don’t get cocky.”
“Three.” He grunted when my uppercut caught him beneath the chin. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”
I blamed the next words out of my mouth on the residual impact of his strike.
“Haven’t you checked the news?” I grimaced.
He gave me a strange look. “What?”
A few minutes later, he peered at his iPad, his jaws dropped and his eyes widened.
“Holy shit!” Cole gasped. “That asshole just made a claim on your girl!”
“I know. It's all part of the plan!” I hissed.
Fuck the plan. The plan had screwed me up.
“What are you going to do about it then?” He arched his brow. “When will this show go on?”
“Soon. In a few weeks, it'll all come to an end.” I assured him.
“Sure,” Cole nodded. “But how will you cope? Maisie will be around Xavier often. Won't that upset you? The bastard didn't even strip you of your Beta title or send you out of the pack. He kept you here so you'd watch him touch what you lost.”
I glared at him. “Watch him, asshole!”
A knowing glint passed through his eyes. “Dude, relax.” He was so full of bullshit.
He laughed. “Cheer up, Roman. Not seeing your mate everyday isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
Maybe not in his world. But it was mine.
The days that followed after that was pure torture.
I had to avoid Maisie at every turn. I couldn't meet her gaze or respond to her replies. I was a fucking ghost and I knew it'd upset her. But what can I do? This was all part of the plan. Sometimes, to win, you'd have to make lots of sacrifices.
My efforts to avoid Maisie disintegrated when I returned to the pack mansion and promptly ran into her in the foyer.
“Oh my God. What happened?” Her horrified expression confirmed what I already knew—I looked like a mess. And if I had any lingering doubts, the mirror hanging opposite the front door smashed them into smithereens.
Bruised jaw. Blackening eye. A cut over my brow.
Thank fuck I didn’t have a meeting until next week.
“Cole” I removed my coat and hung it on the brass tree. My tone was indifferent, but an unsettling warmth unfurled behind my ribs at her concern.
Maisie’s brows pulled together. “Cole hit you? He doesn’t seem like the type. He’s usually so calm and…nice.” Just like that, the warmth turned into annoyance.
“I told you, he’s not as nice as he seems,” I said in a clipped voice. “But to clarify, we sometimes blow off steam by boxing. He happened to land more hits today since I was…distracted.” Thinking about you.
“You box for fun.” Maisie set the vase of flowers in her arms on the marble side table. “That makes so much sense.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have a temper.” She straightened the stems, oblivious to my scowl. “I’m sure boxing helps, but have you ever thought about anger management classes?” A teasing note ran beneath her voice.
“I don’t need anger management classes,” I growled. First, she was the reason Cole got the upper hand in the ring. Now, she was teasing me? That's a low blow even for you, darling.
“I’m in full control of—” I broke off at her laugh. Realization dawned. “It was a joke.”
“It’s too easy.” Her smile faded when she faced me again. Her eyes swept over my face, lingering on the nasty cut above my eye. “You should ice your bruises and clean that cut, or it’ll get infected.”
“I’ll be fine.” They weren’t my first or worst injuries from the ring.
“Ice and disinfectant,” she said firmly. “Now.”
“Or what?” I shouldn’t be indulging her, but she was so endearing when she tried to boss me around that I couldn’t resist.
Her eyes narrowed. “Or I’ll make sure the maids serve you greens. I know how much you hate them.”
I took back what I said about her being endearing. She was fucking evil.
“Meet me in the guest bathroom. I’m getting the ice.”
I didn’t take well to people telling me what to do, but a reluctant wisp of admiration curled in my chest as I headed to the bathroom.
I leaned against the counter and checked my watch. I had a mountain of paperwork to review, and heavens knew I should stay away from Maisie until I sorted out my aggravating feelings toward her. Yet here I was, waiting for a goddamn ice pack.
My injuries didn’t even hurt. Much.
The door opened, and Maisie entered carrying two small ice packs.
“I told you I’m fine,” I grumbled, but a spark of pleasure lit in my chest when she brushed gentle fingers over my jaw.
“Roman, your skin is purple.”
“Purple black.” A smile tugged on my lips at her cutting look. “Precision is important, darling.”
“Are you trying to get a matching injury on the other side of your jaw?” she asked pointedly, pressing one of the packs against my face. “If so, I can help with that.”
“It’s not very sporting of you to threaten bodily harm while patching me up. Some might even say it’s hypocritical.”
“I don’t like sports, and I’m an excellent multitasker.”
I used to be a fan of both. Not anymore.
“Hold this over your eye,” Maisie pushed the second ice pack into my hand while she dampened a washcloth. “Don’t deflect from the main issue here, which is your utter refusal to ask for help.”
“I can handle a few injuries. I’ve been through worse.” Still, I didn’t resist when she dabbed the cloth on my wound.
“Do I want to ask what you mean by worse?”
“I broke my nose the first time when I was 12. Some asshole had been bullying Jason, so I hit him. He hit me back. It got ugly enough I had to go to the ER.”
Maisie winced. “How old was the other kid?”
“18.” Alpha Raegan's son, Tristan, had been a real piece of work.
“An 18 year old was picking on a 9 year old?”
“Cowards always pick on people who can’t fight back.”
“Sadly true.” She retrieved a bandage from the medicine cabinet. “You said that was the first time you broke your nose. What happened the second time?”
My mouth curled into a grin. “Got drunk in college and fell on the sidewalk.”
Maisie’s laugh washed through me like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. “I can’t imagine you as a typical drunk college student.”
“I did my best to erase any incriminating evidence, but the memories are there.”
“I’m sure you did.” She placed the Band-Aid over the cut and stepped back with a satisfied expression. “There. Much better.”
“You’re forgetting one thing.” I tapped my jaw.
I didn’t know why I was dragging this out when I didn’t want to be here in the first place, but I couldn’t remember the last time someone fussed over me. It felt…nice. Disturbingly so.
Her brow wrinkled. “What?”
“My kiss.”
Pink crept over her cheeks. “Now you’re the one teasing me.”
“I would never tease you about such a serious matter,” I said solemnly. “One kiss for each of my injuries. That’s it. Would you deny a dying man his last wish?”
Her sparkling gaze held a touch of exasperation. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re the one who said you were, quote-unquote, fine. But since you insist on being such a baby about it…”
She moved closer again. My pulse beat in my throat when she brushed her lips over my brow, then my jaw. “Better?”
“Much.”
Laughter bubbled beneath her voice. “You're insane.”
“It’s not the worst thing someone’s called me.”
“I believe it.”
She turned her head a fraction, and our eyes held.
The bathroom smelled like lemon cleaner and ointment, two of the unsexiest scents known to mankind. That didn’t stop heat from sparking in my blood or the memory of her taste from flooding my mind.
“About the interview, I didn't mean for any of it to happen.” Her breath brushed my skin, warm and tentative.
My groin tightened. “Yeah?”
“What happened was part of our plan. Don't beat yourself up.”
Something that felt suspiciously like disappointment snaked through my chest.
“I know but…” She faltered when my hands rested on her hips. Her skin branded my palm through the layer of cashmere.
A hard smile flickered over my mouth. “It’s fine.”
It wasn't. Nothing will be until she's here with me.
My touch lingered for a beat before I moved her to the side and headed to the exit.