Precious Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #1)

Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

A voidance is something I’ve become good at. Avoiding my dad, avoiding telling my family about my acceptance into the Police Academy… hell, I’ve even managed to avoid the Ravenite for the last five years. This week, I’ve gotten pretty good at avoiding Roman, which has been easy since he’s made no attempt to contact me.

But when I saw that damn keychain, I was yanked back to that moment on Chelsea Pier, when we laughed like idiots. Because that’s what we were; idiots.

Idiots in love.

I caved after seeing the damn thing sitting on my bedside table for the fifteenth time. I’m not proud about being the first to reach out after our argument. Though I haven’t said the words—because I suck at apologies—I’m woman enough to accept when I’m in the wrong. It’s partly why I’m here tonight. Roman responded to my text with a request to meet him here, and while my self-preservation was screaming at me not to, Haven’s encouragement was louder. The least I can do is put what happened between us all those years ago in the past. It’s about time I actually moved forward with my life.

“Damn girl!” she catcalls as I stand outside the last place I ever thought I’d be. “You look killer!”

“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. I’m still unsure whether the outfit I’ve chosen will attract the wrong attention. Despite the fall chill that laces the air, I’ve chosen a black, figure-hugging dress. One that stops mid-thigh but has a small slit running up one side. The thin straps criss-cross over my shoulders and back, held securely by mesh sleeves attached under the arms. Usually I wouldn’t be so self-conscious about what I’m wearing, always opting for something I feel good in and looks good on me. But this place is where my nightmares originate from. This is the place where my heart broke and my world shattered. This is where I lost myself.

Smoothing down my dress, I look around nervously. Despite the positive encouragement from my best friend, I’m still anxious about coming here tonight. Not just because I’m seeing Roman for the first time since our argument, but because I know what happens here. Places like The Ravenite always make me nervous because of the lack of control over alcohol consumption. Here, there are no limits to how drunk people can get. As long as they’re paying, nobody bats an eyelid.

But it’s like Haven said earlier; I can’t avoid the place forever.

Easier said than done.

“Come on.” Haven beams that signature Hollywood smile, grabbing me by the arm and redirecting us to the front door.

Baz, the security guard, gives us a curt nod of recognition as we approach. He doesn’t smile. The guy hardly ever smiles, and we’ve known him long enough to count on one hand how many times we’ve actually seen it.

He’s worked for my Uncle Hunter for years and is a trusted honorary member of the Gambino family. So, when he holds the door open for us, I’m not at all surprised to hear his grumbled warning. “You two better behave.”

Haven laughs guiltily, rolling her eyes. “When have I not?”

Baz raises his brow in accusation and we all know what that means. Haldon and Haven grew up with him by their side, under his protection until they both turned eighteen. It’s fair to say we gave him a run for his money when we got up to mischief. So much so that he’d probably be gray if it weren’t for his lack of hair. More than once, he caught us breaking out of the Gambino’s place after telling our parents we were having slumber parties, or refused us entry into The Ravenite, despite our desperate pleas. I can’t say I’ve learned from all my mistakes, but I’ve definitely grown up.

“Get in,” he huffs out impatiently, gesturing for us to move past him. “Before I change my mind.”

Haven shoves me inside the club without a second thought, and the heat that immediately hits us is stifling. The scent of expensive whiskey and cigars taints the air, and the soundtrack Blood//Water by Grandson pumps the atmosphere with the heady scent of desire.

Girls wrap around poles, sliding their oiled bodies up and down while wearing nothing but lacy underwear that leaves little to the imagination. Similarly clad waitresses saunter between tables, handing out drinks to suited businessmen that unsurprisingly can’t keep their hands to themselves. The whole place is crawling with lecherous men, their deep laughs and sordid conversations carrying over the music.

I shudder as we walk past a group of suits and stuck up college kids. Haven must notice, because I feel her hand slip into mine, offering me her silent reassurance. She gives it a comforting squeeze as we ascend the staircase to the VIP level, and I respect the hell out of her for recognizing how uneasy I must look and not saying anything.

I feel every pound of the bass as it rattles through my chest, the screeching melody scratching at my veins, ratcheting my unease to new levels. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic pulse.

“We can go if?—”

“No!” I cut in as we reach the top of the staircase. “I’m fine, I just…”

“I know,” Haven reassures me, giving me a soft smile. She knows what happened five years ago, every damn detail, because she was there to pick up the pieces, to rescue me and attempt to help me heal. There’s so much to unpack still, and I know avoiding this place hasn’t helped. I just didn’t expect it to be so… hard.

“Come on!” she grins, tugging me down the hallway until we reach the VIP room we always use. “Let’s get some alcohol in you and ruin Roman’s night.”

A laugh bubbles out of me just as she swings the door open. She stumbles through the door, throwing back her head as she explodes with laughter. The sound of it relaxes me, but when my eyes lock on Roman, my shoulders instantly bunch up once again.

“Hello, Presh,” he purrs.

I swear I hear static, and my racing pulse doesn’t let up. My eyes dart between him, my brother, and Haldon before I finally swallow and give an abrupt nod to them all.

It’s not exactly a surprise that they’re all here, after all, Roman told me to meet him. I just wasn’t expecting to feel like a bowl of jelly the moment we locked eyes. Nothing deters me, nothing throws me sideways. Nothing, except Roman Genovese, who looks too damn attractive for his own good. It’s like this past week he’s grown even more irresistible, and I shouldn’t be noticing that.

Shaking my head of those stupid thoughts, I amble to the bar with Haven on my tail. I’ve opted for my usual whiskey-coke while Haven has decided to be a little more adventurous tonight, choosing a cocktail I swear she just made up.

We move to join the guys at the leather couch that curves around the room and overlooks the majority of the club below. While the room is completely private, the two-way glass gives the perfect view of the dance floor. Thanks to Haldon installing state-of-the-art speakers, we can hear the music playing downstairs too; ‘Control’ by Unknown Brain.

For an hour, we listen to music, chatting about Haven’s studies and Roman’s latest venture into fighting. I can’t say I’m surprised, but there’s a niggling feeling of unease that washes over me when he mentions the elite fighters who have already contacted him.

I feel Haven’s eyes on me as he recounts their names, and mine immediately drift to hers. The comforting expression she tries to project only meets me briefly before I’m snapped out of my own thoughts.

“Boss,” Baz announces himself abruptly, his gaze moving across all of us. “We have company.”

Immediately, our heads snap to the window. Though I’m not sure what I’m looking for, the guys know exactly what Baz is referring to.

My brother shoots up from his seat. “I’ll handle it,” he huffs.

“I’ll join you,” Haldon offers, heading towards the door but pausing to look back at us. “Roman?”

My wary gaze drifts to him, but he’s not looking at Haldon. His sultry stare is fixated on me like steel; unmovable.

“I’ll stay here. Lani and I need to have a chat.” He smirks deviantly, sipping his drink.

“Whatever,” I hear my brother mutter before the door closes and the silence envelops us.

It’s unnerving the way he can command my attention without even doing anything. My treacherous body reacts to his metallic stare, my erratic pulse now relocating to a more favorable place.

“And that’s my cue,” Haven sighs, pushing up from her place beside me. “Just don’t kill each other, okay?”

The smile that graces Roman’s lips is pure sex. I know all too well what thoughts are crossing his mind because they’re the same ones flashing through my own. Though my best friend doesn’t know the full extent of my recent interactions with Roman, she’s more than aware that something’s been going on. Thankfully, she hasn’t pushed the subject, something I’m grateful for—because the reason I came here tonight is to put an end to the back and forth between Roman and I.

The sex, the fighting—it’s toxic and suffocating. There’s no chance of me moving forward if I’m stuck in the past. And Roman Genovese is my past. He can’t be my present or future.

Fidgeting in my spot, I clear my throat as the door closes behind Haven.

“I need another drink,” I murmur, heading to the opposite side of the room. It should be easy to cut ties with the man who hurt me, but after last week's revelation, I’m still warring with my doubt. I need to let go of what happened five years ago, but I also need to let bygones be bygones.

Before I make it even two steps to the bar, Roman grabs my hand. The air whooshes out of my lungs as he tugs me into his lap.

“Here,” he smiles, bringing his glass to my lips. Without thinking, I take a gentle sip. The amber liquid burns down my throat, leaving a scorching path that warms me from the inside. He smirks, placing the glass on the side table next to him. “I figured you’d need liquid courage.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“Because Alanis Bonanno has never apologized before, has she?” He shifts beneath me, the evidence of his desire punching through the fabric of his slacks.

I have to suppress the wanton urge that courses through my veins. Beyond the resentment and guilt, I still want to fuck Roman.

No! You came here to cut things off.

A shuddered breath liberates itself from the constraints of my throat, causing Roman’s lips to curl. He reaches forward, resting his warm palm against my throat as he presses his thumb under my chin. I have no choice but to look at him, his darkening gaze boring into me.

“And I’m not going to. I already told you, I suck at them.”

Roman leans forward to rub his nose along mine, causing my breath to catch in my throat. His aftershave invades my senses, suffocating me so deliciously that I feel goosebumps form along my skin. It’s too intoxicating to think straight.

“I don’t mind the sucking,” he whispers seductively.

“Roman,” I sigh, pulling his hand away. I gather the strength to say what I need to. I might suck at apologies, but I need to clear the air with him before this gets out of hand. “What happened last week can’t happen again.”

“Agreed,” he answers resolutely, surprising me.

“I… wait… what?” I push out of his lap, standing to my full height so I can gain just enough room to breathe. Relief and confusion blend together in a dizzying concoction. I wasn’t expecting Roman to agree with me, but now that he has, I don’t know what else to say. “I… I don’t understand.”

He stalks towards me with purpose and I back away slightly, not realizing how close I am to the wall. Suddenly, his arms cage me in, and that sense of suffocation returns in full force. I could easily fight my way out of this situation. If last week is anything to go by, Roman knows I won’t pull punches. Yet he doesn’t seem to care.

“I told you before, Presh. I’m done fighting.” His glare is like cement, holding me captive. I’m drowning in the intensity because something dark hides behind those blue irises.

“So that’s it?” I murmur. “We’re done?”

A chuckle bubbles from Roman’s chest, his hot breath skating past my cheek as he leans forward and nips my earlobe. I shudder beneath him, my pussy coming to life again. “We’re far from done, Presh. You’re just gonna have to learn that this, ” he gestures between us, “is inevitable.”

I frown, still not sure what he’s implying because I’m pretty sure I just said we’re not doing this.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We’re not going back there. We’re not fucking, we’re not hanging out. We’re not?—”

Roman’s lips crash onto mine before I can even think of how I was supposed to finish that sentence. One hand slides around my neck, pinning me to the wall while he presses himself against me.

A gasp escapes me, and before I know it, I’m moaning into Roman’s mouth, desperate for one more slide of his lips on mine, one more swipe of his tongue against my own. I’m dizzy with desire, thirsty for the one thing only Roman can quench. His hands roam my body like they’re committing every curve to memory; like one week was too long to be apart.

When we finally separate, I can’t breathe. My chest heaves and I can’t seem to get my thoughts under control. All I can manage is, “No.”

“You’re mine, Presh.”

“No.”

“It’s you and me. Always has been.”

“No!” I keep repeating the word like it’ll somehow punch Roman in the face. Sadly, it doesn’t, and I have to force my whispered protest. “We can’t. We’re toxic. We’re messy.”

Reaching up, Roman pushes a strand of hair from my face. His expression is light, relaxed and uncaring. Whatever I have to say, he douses it with an effortless smile. “That’s us, baby.”

“I don’t want us.”

“Really?” he muses.

“Roman—” I gasp when I feel his fingers trail up my thigh.

“Tell me, Precious. Tell me you don’t want me, that you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t think about me and what I can do to this cunt.” He cups me gently, one finger rubbing over my throbbing pussy. “Tell me you hate me. It doesn’t matter because we both know every single word you say will be a lie right now.”

“I don’t…” Heat crawls up my spine and rises to my cheeks, betraying my words.

Roman’s thumb strokes my cheek, his gaze following the motion. “Oh, Lani,” he tuts. “Your blush gives you away.”

All I can think about is him and how well he knows my body. I hate how right he is, too. I can’t deny any of those things, yet I can’t find the words to fight back. I was so resolute in my decision, so determined to set the boundaries between Roman and I.

But one look at him has me melting.

“You don’t need to pretend anymore,” he says huskily. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

“Who says I’m pretending,” I challenge breathlessly.

Roman arches a brow, contending with my own fierceness. “Like you really need me to prove you wrong?”

“Fine,” I huff, folding my arms. I don’t know what I’m resigning to, but it’s too late to question it because the door to the room swings open and Haven’s flustered face stares back at us.

“My brother needs you, Roman.” She’s breathless, like she’s just completed the one hundred meter sprint. “Something about Ky—, Kyro?—”

“Kyrovsky?” Roman finishes for her, his heavy gaze still on me..

“Yes!”

“Who?” I frown.

“One of Federov’s men,” he answers flatly, though I don’t miss the way his fists clench.

Haven disappears again, and I don’t blame her. Unlike her, though, my intrigue is piqued a little. “Do I wanna know?”

“That depends,” he huffs, sliding his gun out from his slacks and checking the clip. Once more, he steps back into my space, the power that darkens his eyes and stiffens his shoulders so magnetizing that I almost don’t hear his question. “Are you still joining the academy?”

His question stalls me for a moment. I don’t know what that has to do with anything right now, but it seems to annoy him when I don’t answer right away.

“Answer me, Presh.”

“Yes,” I reply breathlessly.

The warmth of his body suddenly dissipates, replaced with a coldness I thought I’d prefer. Yet I find myself hugging my body while Roman’s detached gaze tours my face.

“You haven’t said anything, have you?” I stammer. “To Vee, or…”

He rolls his eyes as if I’ve offended him. If there’s one thing I know about Roman, it’s that he’s loyal to a fault—for the most part. Also, nothing offends him, so I guess that’s two things. You don’t even have to tell him to keep something a secret, because his honor is worth more than betraying the trust. Again, that only really applies to my brother and Haldon.

When my eyes finally meet his again, there’s a coldness framing those daunting blue eyes. “Would you believe me either way?”

“Yes,” I admit on a breath. It comes almost too easily and I hate the lack of restraint I have right now.

His lips curl into a sinful smile as he closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine. The world around us melts away, the past five years dissolving behind my closed eyes. “Good. Now get out of here. I have to handle something.”