Imani Jay

  Room Service

  A Steamy BWWM, Second Chance, Instalove, Mafia Romance Novella

  Copyright © 2023 by Imani Jay

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Imani Jay asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  MATURE CONTENT. NOT SUITED FOR READERS UNDER 18.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  As a black female romance reader & author, The Lunchtime Chronicles is an iconic multi-author series I’ve long admired. It is a great honor to have my books featured in LTC. Thank you for your trust, Siera.

  And thank you to all my LTC sister authors, past, present & future, and to our amazing ambassadors and readers for your unwavering support!

  FOLLOW ME EVERYWHERE: https://linktr.ee/imanijay

  Contents

  The Lunchtime Chronicles

  Description

  1. PRESENT DAY - Mateo

  2. PRESENT DAY - Zina

  3. PRESENT DAY - Mateo

  4. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - Zina

  5. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - Mateo

  6. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - Zina

  7. PRESENT DAY - Zina

  8. PRESENT DAY - Mateo

  9. PRESENT DAY - Zina

  OWNED BY THE BOSS - Chapter One

  ROMANO

  About the Author

  Also by Imani Jay

  The Lunchtime Chronicles

  SEASON SIX AUTHORS:

  Siera London

  Amaya Black

  KC Connor

  La Quette

  Peyton Banks

  Rose Marie

  The Messy Mandy Presents: Lunchtime Chronicles romance series launched with Siera London’s WHIPPED at the Interracial Romance Author Expo (IRAE) in 2019, in Daytona Beach. The series features some of the most talented interracial romance authors in the industry. If you love the genre, please support us by reading the books, reviewing, and tell a friend, your book club, the world!

  Join our Amazon Book Club: https://bit.ly/LunchtimeChroniclesBookClub

  For the latest gossip and updates on the series and authors, follow Messy Mandy’s Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/thelunchtimechronicles/

  Description

  They say you never forget your first…

  Zina

  For fifteen years, I’ve been walking with a hole in my heart. Carved by a man larger than life, way out of my league. We parted on terrible terms. Now fate has granted us a second chance…

  Mateo

  Zina Washington was the shy bombshell I fell for hard, fast, and irrecoverably. But I messed things up royally between us. Now we’re brought back together. And this time, I’m never letting her go.

  Tag along for a swoony and steamy, curvy girl, BWWM, mafia, second chance romance novella with no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed HEA!

  1

  PRESENT DAY - Mateo

  I’m just checking on my investment. You know, because I’m a respectful businessman these days. Long gone is the small-time dealer. My family’s empire has extended into all kinds of business. Real estate, construction, transportation. All storefront enterprises that allows us to flush our dirty money.

  So here I am strolling through my five-star hotel, taking stock of the crowd of guests, my employees, the comings and goings. Witnessing the well-oiled machine that always fills me with pride. Until I saw her.

  Zina Washington. I would recognize this woman anywhere. And apparently, anytime. I would not have guessed that fifteen years after our single encounter, it would only take me a glimpse to spot her.

  That unique shade of dark chocolate skin. The soft lines of her beautiful face. Her shapely body, that’s even more mouthwatering now. Hips wider, ass and tits fuller. My entire body screamed, “it’s here!”

  I stand in place, frozen. People walking past me, giving me curious stares. My heart beats a mile a minute. I feel hot and cold all at once. Fuck, is it really her? After all this time? After spending more than a decade fighting to push my memories to the farthest recesses of my mind, but also wishing I get a chance to make amends. When I shake out of my stupor, I take quick strides in the direction she went. The hotel bar.

  My heart is about to jump out of my chest. All my sharp instincts rise to the surface. I need to find her. Please, God. Please. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for. A chance to take a good look? Maybe talk to her? Sweep her away and lock her in my place? Fuck her silly, make her round with my babies, and never let her go… Fuck, she’s probably married and carried another man’s kids. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  I make my way into the elegant bar. All velvet and dark wood upholstery, deep green walls, and a bar that’s a splendid piece of antique. But my eyes see nothing of that. I don’t notice the women smiling coyly in my direction or the men raising their glasses to the Romano walking through one of his properties. My eyes zone in on the incredibly gorgeous woman sitting at the bar. Her glorious curves wrapped in a dark-red dress, shiny black hair loosely curled, falling over her bare shoulders. Her full ass barely fits on the stool. Fuck, that ass! It’s haunted many of my dreams, fantasies, and sleepless nights over the years.

  Zina’s posture is just as elegant as I remember, straight back and shoulders. But I can sense tension in the way she’s slightly hunched over the bar-top.

  I need to get closer. Need a full look. To hear her voice. Maybe talk to her? Fuck, should I leave her alone? Is this not enough? You’re just gonna fucking hurt her again, Romano. No. Not this time. This time, I’ll talk and listen. And, who knows, maybe there’s a reason she was brought back into my life?

  I make up my mind in a heartbeat. Discreetly sliding behind the bar, I remove my jacket with trembling fingers and hook it to a coat hanger. Then I motion to the barista on duty, and discreetly slide him a wad of crisp bills, giving him the night off. Heart still pounding, hands clammy, but it’s fucking showtime.

  2

  PRESENT DAY - Zina

  Why did you come here, Zina Washington? The same question keeps bouncing through my mind. I could be home in my pajamas, snuggled into the couch with a smutty romance. But noooo, I had to come. And for what? To feel the burden of my solitude even more? Rub salt over my poor, wounded heart? I’m such a moron.

  I came for the same reason I never miss any of these events. Because of him. It’s always because of him. He’s the man I subconsciously look for in a crowd anywhere I am in the world. The voice I listen for. The scent I crave from the depths of my soul. The missing piece in my life I never even really had.

  I’m hiding in this five-star hotel bar instead of hanging out with my friends in the reception hall where our college reunion is being held. Pathetic.

  I take a sip of my drink, trying to find the courage to rejoin the party. I swirl the liquid in the thick glass, not paying attention to anything around me.

  “Hi,” a deep voice rumbles from the across the bar.

  I sit up straighter. That voice… Could it be…? No. It’s never him. Anywhere. Anytime. Just stupid ghosts escaped from my memories, mocking me. As if I could remember a voice I heard fifteen years ago, for one night.

  I sigh deeply before responding, without raising my gaze. “Hi.”

  “Rough night?” the barman pushes.

  I close my eyes, shaking my head. Fuck, my brain is really playing tricks on me. No one ever sounded this much like Mateo. Maybe I could take him up to my hotel room, and keep him all night with the lights turned off? Only allowing him to whisper naughty things in my ear…

  I let out a dejected chuckle, before answering. “You could say that.”

  “Wanna tell me about it?” the man asks, resting his hands flat on the wood in front of me.

  They’re big, strong, masculine hands. With thick veins running under his beautiful olive skin, the backs covered in tattoos of flames. Intriguing, dangerous, manly. Fucking sexy. Matt didn’t have tattoos on the backs of his hands, a sneaky voice whispers in my head.

  I sigh again. “I’m here for the college reunion.” He hums, signaling he’s listening, encouraging me to keep going. “But instead of hanging out with my friends, I’m hiding here. Like a coward.”

r />
  When the silence stretches, he adds, “why are you hiding?”

  Fuck, his voice. The way it slides over my skin, wraps itself around my body, vibrates through my chest… Can I just stay here and pretend? Get a permanent room in this hotel? Pay this man to always talk to me while I keep my eyes away?

  I take a shaky breath, trying to gather myself, before admitting. “I was hoping to see someone here.”

  “Ah,” is his only response. But I notice the word comes out a bit breathy. He’s probably sick of entertaining the crazy patron at his bar.

  His beautiful hands still lay flat in front of me. I want to trace his tattoos, entwine our fingers, feel the heat of his skin, its texture… He’s distracting me enough to loosen my tongue further.

  “He was someone I met a long time ago. We didn’t part on the best terms, and I always wanted a chance to fix things.”

  He says in his deep, rumbly voice, “who says today won’t be your lucky day?”

  I nod absently, still not looking up, but appreciating his kind words. I let his low gravel and the vision of his strong hands soothe me. The combination is strangely comforting. Added to the wafts of vetiver and manly musk that emanate from the man. He even smells like Matt! I’m almost scared to look up. This stranger’s presence feels like a quiet, deadly storm. Catching me off-guard and unsuspecting, invading my senses, making me parched with want and need.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not always like this,” I apologize lamely.

  “It’s okay,” he rumbles, and the vibration of his voice courses through my body like a soothing balm. “We’re all chasing after that special someone.”

  Just being able to talk about it, even in such vague terms. Acknowledging how much I miss and crave to find Mateo Romano, even to a stranger, feels so fucking good.

  “Thank you for listening,” I finally say.

  “Of course.” He hums pensively. “What are you gonna do?”

  I let out a deep sigh. “I’m not sure. Go back to the ballroom and dance the night away? Lock myself in my hotel room to binge-watch TV and stuff my face? The possibilities are endless.”

  He chuckles, and the sound is fucking delicious. It thickens the cloud of safety surrounding me. I wish I could pack his voice and take it with me. The delicious scent of him. His large, tattooed hands. The big dick energy emanating from this man. Wish he wasn’t just a friendly barman doing his job, but the ghost I’ve been chasing for almost half of my life.

  Fuck, poor guy probably can’t wait till I finish my drink and leave his bar. I raise my gaze to thank him and leave, and almost fall off my stool.

  It’s him! Mateo! After all these years, all this time praying, searching, and coming up blank, the man who ruined me for any other is standing in front of me.

  3

  PRESENT DAY - Mateo

  I’ve been waiting for Zina to look up from the bar-top since I walked into this room. And the moment she does, my heart feels like it’s about to fucking explode. Because Zina Washington recognized me! After all this time… I instantly see the spark in her beautiful, big brown eyes, that says she knows exactly who I am and that she’s just as shocked, as floored as I am. Her kissable lips fall open, gaze growing wide. It’s almost funny. Almost. If it wasn’t another defining moment of my life, with this woman again.

  And all the stuff she said about looking for someone? No, don’t go there. Don’t you dare fucking get your hopes up, Romano! I need to fucking apologize and make things right with this woman. That’s my priority, here.

  I give her what I hope is a friendly smile and not a toothy, creepy one. Because I’m smiling so big, my face hurts. It’s her and me, in the same place. And she looks fucking happy to see me. She hasn’t run for the hills, slapped me across the face, or yelled for help.

  I grin, staring back into the face I missed more than anything ever, taking my feel. Zina is even more beautiful now as a mature woman than she was fifteen years ago. All woman. With still a fantastic rack and ass, but now her features tell a story. She’s lived, been through things. Lost and won battles. And my heart warns me, saying it doesn’t know if this time it can hold back and walk away.

  “Hey,” I finally say softly.

  “Matt?” she asks with incredulity. “Mateo Romano?” Her tone is excited.

  Fucking take my heart and run with it.

  “The one and only.”

  Zina lets out an incredulous laugh. “You work here?”

  “You could say that,” I reply non-committally.

  “Small world.” Her broad smile illuminates the entire room, hitting me straight in the chest.

  “That, it is.”

  “Are you… are you going to the reunion?”

  I shake my head. thinking of another party, in a different place, a long time ago. “I wasn’t planning on it, but if you want an escort.”

  Zina’s eyes twinkle with something that looks a lot like excitement. “Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

  “But what about your shift?”

  Fuck, she wants to agree. I shrug. “I can call in a replacement.”

  Zina gnaws on her full bottom lip, making the semi I’ve been sporting since the second I caught a glimpse of her, take a turn for steel pipe.

  “It wouldn’t be a bother for your colleague?”

  I think about the barista I just sent home. I’m sure the hotel manager will find someone to finish his shift. And I’ll make sure whoever it is gets a generous bonus.

  “Nah, it’s no big deal.”

  Zina is peering at me from under her long lashes, eyes gleaming, her full lips looking fucking biteable. Making my heart gallop inside my rib-cage. I wonder if she can hear its deafening beat. And I swear I don’t know how I’m resisting throwing her over my shoulder and locking us into my penthouse suite.

  “If you’re sure…”

  Her voice is just as throaty and enticing as I remember. A seductive rasp that trickles down my spine like a caress.

  I wink at her, grinning broadly. “Let me grab my jacket.”

  When I come out from behind the bar, I’m back in my three-piece suit, and it’s go time. Don’t fuck this up, Romano.

  4

  FIFTEEN YEARS AGO - Zina

  “Girl!”

  I almost fall off my bed, sitting up abruptly at the loud call coming from the dorm suite door. My sleepy eyes blink as I turn to the startling voice. It’s my roommate, Mynna.

  Mynna Johnson is a force of nature. Opinionated and bossy, but also the funniest and most caring college roommate I could have dreamt to be paired with. She bulldozes through my quiet habits and forces me out of my comfort zone. It’s exhausting, but your girl needs that.

  * * *

  I grew up in a family of five, as the youngest child, with a seven-year age gap between each one of us. By the time I was eleven, both my brother and sister were out of the house. They were super sweet when they were around, but being alone with my parents for most of my life, I was never used to being very social. On top of that, I was identified as a gifted child. So between skipping grades and always having my neck buried in a book, I didn’t get much chance for a regular teenager life.

  * * *

  My mind slowly registers Mynna is talking, gesticulating, and overall being her crazy self.

  “What are you doing? It’s six-thirty.”

  She’s staring at me wide-eyed, lips parted in an expression of horror, making me roll my barely-open eyes, smiling. This girl is so dramatic.

  Sucking my teeth teasingly, I reply, “girl, I was just taking a nap. You know, it’s been a week.”

  Mynna shakes her head. “No, no, no, no, no. We can’t let them win, baby girl. Uh-huh. They drown us in projects and papers. And exams are not even here yet. Nope. We came to college to study and party.” She pairs her words with sassy twists of her neck and shoulders, while swirling her index finger upward. “Get up and get dressed. I’m not leaving without you.”

 

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