Rome and Jules, page 5
“Hmm. I suppose.”
Rome didn’t know what Benedetto was thinking, and he still didn’t like it.
“What about the pretty one you were ogling at the club?”
“Rhonda?”
Anthony cooed, “Oooh, who’s Rhonda?”
“A female with boobs bigger than her brains.”
His father chuckled. “That could be an advantage.”
“Yes, I appreciate that, but I doubt she’s at the heart of confidential pack information—if that’s what you had in mind.”
Benedetto smiled and gave him a sideways glance. “True, but young females gossip. She might know more than she realizes.”
“Possibly, I suppose.”
Federico looked up from the omnipresent rows of numbers. “You don’t seem very excited about this girl.”
Okay, don’t stutter. “I’m not. Let Merrick chase her. He’ll give up a lot for some double Ds. Me? I’d rather have a good conversation—uh, with my sex.”
“Merrick won’t serve my purpose—or the female’s, I expect.” His father steepled his fingers and rested them against his chin.
“Yeah.” Rome tried not to look miserable.
“Simply keep it in mind. Do you have summer classes?”
“A couple, but nothing I can’t do in a few hours a week.” Though he officially studied business with an emphasis on marketing at Brown, the dean of students was also a shifter and let Rome do a lot of classes online. “If you need my help, I’m here.”
Benedetto gave a nod and picked up his papers. Officially dismissed.
Rome stood and walked to the door.
“Oh, Rome?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good job.”
“Thank you.” He tried really hard not to smile stupidly as he hurried to the stairs that led to the kitchen. His father did have the power to make him grateful for a word of praise. He paused. And that power was part of what kept him there. Wolves lived in packs. Lone wolves were rare and often slightly mad. Of course, too much more of his family’s hatred of anything gay, and he could be crazy enough to run.
JULES clenched his teeth and tried to ignore Donald and Ty roughhousing beside him. The two males really hit it off and hadn’t stopped teasing each other since—elbows to the ribs and knuckles across each other’s heads. Who knew Donald could even be so playful? Or Ty, for that matter. Yes, well, they might be playmates, but they were his jailers—or more specifically, Ty was.
They walked through the archway from the club dining room, where they’d had a dinner in which Donald and Ty conversed and Jules stared at his tilapia. Now they entered the lounge, which was going strong already even though it was just nine o’clock. Close to the full moon, and the young wolves were ready to howl.
A harried-looking waitress hurried up to them. No way she’d know Jules, but she might have run up against Ty’s vicious temper.
“Can I find you a table, gentlemen, or are you joining another party?” Her speech was formal, but her accent screamed that she came from the wrong side of the Dark Harbor fence.
Ty sneered. “Find us a table.” He glanced around at the packed room. “If you have to move someone, do it. This is Alpha Havilland’s son.”
The female eyed Jules with deference and fear. “Welcome, sir. Just give me a moment.” She hurried into the crowd.
A couple of minutes later, when she hadn’t returned, Ty walked up to a trio of Havilland pack wolves at a table near the windows and snarled. “Aren’t you planning to give up that table for the son of your alpha?”
The young male, already half-drunk, spat beer on the table and looked up in fright.
Jules walked over and put a hand on Ty’s arm. “Please, cousin, there’s no need. I’m sure we’ll find a place when someone is ready to leave.”
“They are ready to leave.” Ty said it with icy conviction, and the two males and their female companion all struggled up and fled the lounge.
Jules sighed. No use making a scene now that the damage was done.
Donald chuckled. “I like your style.” He nudged Ty in the ribs and took the best chair.
Jules pulled out his chair and slid into it. Too late, Donald noticed. “Sorry.”
“I’m fully capable of pulling out a chair.”
A different waitress came to the table, and Donald asked for a bottle of champagne.
“What type would you like, sir?”
“What’s the best you have?”
Ty snorted. “Come on, as if this wrong-sider has ever tasted champagne.”
The girl’s lips flattened. “We have Cristal, sir. It’s the only one of our champagnes to have ever received a perfect 100 score from Wine & Spirits. May I get you a bottle?”
Jules bit his tongue to keep from laughing at Ty’s frown.
Donald leaned back in his chair, just shy of tipping over. “Sure. Get us a bottle and be sure it’s cold.”
“Of course, sir. We serve at 47 degrees. Any colder numbs the taste buds.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
“Bitch,” Ty muttered under his breath, but Donald just laughed it off.
Donald looked around the big, crowded room. “So this is the famous Dark Harbor Country Club lounge. Interesting.”
“It must seem pretty provincial to a big-city guy like you.”
Jules glanced at Ty, but he didn’t seem to be ironic or snarky. Quite the contrary. He looked kind of starry-eyed.
“Are those the Siracusas?” Donald nodded at the other side of the room where the Siracusa pack always congregated, as far from the Havillands as they could get. In the center of the room, providing a buffer zone, were wolves from various smaller packs that lived in Dark Harbor.
Ty actually raised his lip. “Yeah. Low-life losers.”
Donald smiled slightly, just a bare turn of lips. “They do have a certain earthy vitality.”
“Scum.”
Donald chuckled.
The waitress returned with the ice bucket and made a grand display of peeling the foil, turning the wire the precise six turns, removing the cork with only the smallest pop, and pouring a tiny amount in a slim, long-stemmed glass for Donald. He picked it up, smelled deeply, swirled the champagne as if he were drinking red, and sipped. He frowned.
The bastard.
Then he grinned. “Just kidding. Delicious. Please pour it.”
As she filled the glasses, voices from across the room rose, and the Siracusa wolves all seemed to be glancing toward the door, waving and hailing.
“What’s happening?” Donald pushed a full glass toward Jules. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.”
Ty took a big mouthful and swallowed. Not exactly savoring the Cristal. “It’s probably the fucking Siracusa alpha’s son. Bunch of immigrants who should go back to the old country.” He took another swig.
“They’ve been here for nearly a decade, I’m told.” Jules sipped his champagne. “This is delicious, thank you.” He smiled at Donald. At least he should be polite.
Donald covered Jules’s hand with his own. “I’m glad you like it.”
Jules glanced up—and felt the champagne stop about halfway down his throat. He spit wine, coughed, and tried to keep from spraying Cristal all over Donald by clapping a hand over his mouth.
Donald slapped his back. “That’s the first truly klutzy thing I’ve seen you do.” He laughed. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Y-yes.” Jules wiped at his watering eyes and managed to get the remaining bubbly down the right pipe, but he sneaked another glance across the room. Him. The Siracusa with the tattoos from his kitchen. The one with the eyes and the ass. Beside him walked a shorter, fairer, but also good-looking male. Don’t look too interested. Jules leaned back, sipped, and nodded toward one of the older males on the Siracusa side of the room. “Who’s that? Their alpha?”
Donald raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you really are out of the political loop around here, aren’t you?”
Jules shrugged. “I had my own life.”
Ty said, “No. That’s not Benedetto.”
“If you saw Benedetto Siracusa, you’d remember.” Donald looked more than serious when he said that, and Ty seemed startled.
“So which one’s the alpha’s son?” He looked around as if he hadn’t a clue. That was only half a lie. The two young wolves had walked in together, and he wasn’t sure which one Ty meant. But he could sure as fuck guess.
“The dark one.” Ty glowered. “The bastard.”
“Otherwise known as the one with the world-class ass?” Donald laughed at his own joke.
Ty sputtered a little. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Trust me.”
“Why do you call him a bastard?” Jules sipped and forced his eyes to travel the room rather than gazing where they wanted to linger. “Just because he’s a Siracusa?”
“That ought to be enough.” Ty waggled a finger at the waitress. “Bring me a beer.”
Her glance called him a peon, which was funny considering what he’d said about her, but she walked away briskly. Ty pushed his empty champagne glass away. “He’s a bastard because he broke PJ’s arm, among other things.”
“Broke his arm? How did he do that?”
“Tripped him. PJ went flying and landed on his arm.”
“Umm, high crimes and misdemeanors.”
Donald said, “So what’s the guy’s story?” Jules could have kissed him for asking.
“Still in school. I guess he’s the youngest. Siracusa really trains his sons to manage the family businesses. One’s an accountant, one’s a lawyer, and I guess the kid’s in some kind of business. Bunch of gangsters, if you ask me.”
That made Donald chuckle. “If you’d ever had to deal with Siracusa in a real estate transaction, you’d know how true that is. He’s as much fox as wolf and drives one helluva bargain.”
Jules had to ask. “How rich is he?”
“I doubt anyone knows the total extent of his wealth except maybe his oldest son. Billions, certainly.”
Ty nudged Donald. “But not richer than you.”
“Oh yeah. I expect quite a bit richer than me.”
A tingle traveled down Jules’s spine, and he looked up. For one brief second, he stared at Rome Siracusa.
Chapter Six
ZAP. Like someone plugged him into an electric socket. Rome stared across the big room, and his gaze collided with Jules Havilland. It was like some fucking movie where all the people dissolve and music plays “Some Enchanted Evening.” His breath hissed out as if he were blowing up the balloon that was his cock. Dear god of wolves, how does a guy get that beautiful?
A group of “other pack” members crowded around a table in the center of the room and, just like that, blocked him from view. Rome wanted to run across the space, grab Jules, and escape into the night. Right, with Donald Anderson and Ty Montgomery chasing them.
“You okay?” Merrick chugged a beer and punched Rome on the shoulder.
“Yeah. I just saw that Havilland guy. The alpha’s son who’s marrying Anderson.”
“Jules?”
“Oh right. Yeah, that’s his name.” Good job, you liar.
“I saw him. Poor guy. Sure doesn’t seem happy. Especially with Ty Montgomery all over him like fleas on a dog. Looks like Ty and Anderson are real chummy.”
Rome took a big swallow to drown his sorrows. Wonder why that guy gets to me so much?
“Speaking of Havillands, look who just walked in.”
Rome didn’t have to look up. He knew who he’d see, but he glanced anyway. Rhonda stood in the arch of the doorway from the outside, with two of her usual posse beside her. Her expression said she expected someone to get up and let her sit, and she was no doubt correct, since she wore a low-cut white sweater that showed inches of impressive cleavage. Clearly Merrick wanted to be the one to offer a chair. He vibrated with desire. Sure, he could start a war. Two Havilland males surrendered their seats and pulled over another for the third female.
While everyone stared at the mini spectacle of Rhonda’s breasts, Rome caught a hint of movement at another table. Jules Havilland rose gracefully and threaded through the awestruck crowd toward the men’s room.
Rome’s thigh muscles ached, but no way he could get up at that moment and go to the john. Everyone would notice. “Hey, I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Yeah. I have some shit to do.”
“You going to be here tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Probably. I have two summer classes I need to do assignments for. Can’t blow the GPA and disappoint the parental unit.”
“Not in your family, bro.”
Man, was that the truth. He stood, stretched, and sauntered toward the front door that had just been relinquished by Rhonda and company. A quick scan of the room discovered Ty’s gaze glued to him. Yep, just me leaving the club, asshole. Nothing to see here.
His feet hit the walkway in front of the building, the cool evening air penetrating his light sweater, and he took off like someone set his tail on fire. Hope Jules doesn’t leave the john too fast.
Circling the building, he slipped into the kitchen door. Wolfgods knew he’d run out of it often enough escaping some ardent female. He threaded through the prep tables, nodding to the cooks and waiters, and pushed the swinging door into the service hall. From there he stealth-walked down the corridor until he could look around the corner into the hall that served the restrooms and the coat check, not in use today.
Two males walked out of the bathroom, and Rome stepped back into the service hall so they didn’t notice him. Unfortunately, being the alpha’s son made him conspicuous. As they passed by, one male, an administrator for the Havilland pack, said to another guy Rome didn’t know, “We’re just supposed to swallow it, right? I mean, we have no choice about who’s going to lead us? Bullshit. Not if I have a say. The last few years have been bad enough….” His voice got swallowed up in the noise of the crowd.
For a second Rome wanted to follow and hear the rest. Made sense that Havilland pack members would be royally sick of Gerard’s drinking up the pack profits, but this sounded like more than that. Like the pack might be planning something, and that could be dangerous for—
The bathroom door opened again and Jules walked out, looking tired, discouraged, and gorgeous. Shit. He hadn’t thought this part through. Need a plan. Jules came even with where Rome stood, and his arm reached out on its own and grabbed Jules.
Jules made an eep sound and yanked on his arm, which was really damned hard. Rome pulled harder and dragged Jules into the service hall. “Stop. It’s me.”
Jules scowled. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Under the frown was the slightest hint of amusement. Encouraging. Rome looked both ways, saw the door to the scullery closet, and pulled Jules toward it.
“Wait a fucking minute.” Jules yanked his arm, but Rome didn’t let go. Under the thin silk of his white shirt, an amazing play of lean musculature rippled against Rome’s hand.
“I just want to talk for a minute.”
“In there?”
“You want to go outside?”
“If I’m not back soon, they’ll come looking.”
“Then we’ll talk fast.”
Jules’s lips actually curved at that, and he let Rome drag him into the closet and close the door behind them. That put them inches apart, and Rome’s cock obviously saw that as inches too many. He took a breath. Down, boy.
Jules crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re the son of fucking Benedetto Siracusa?”
“When exactly would I have done that? Before or after you threatened to sic the whole Havilland clan on my head?”
“There’s nobody my father hates more than your father.”
“Wolfgods, they need to get over themselves. Who can even remember why they hate each other so much?”
“I’m sure they can recite chapter and verse.”
He sighed. “Probably.”
“So I need to go. Donald seems to have enlisted a bodyguard for me, and I hear no one wants to take him on.”
“Yeah. Ty. He’s an asshole.”
“Funny. He says the same about you.”
Rome looked into Jules’s deep blue eyes—like a sea full of hidden mysteries. “I wish we could be—friends.” His throat ached from wanting to say more.
“Sure. In some alternate universe.” He cocked his head and touched Rome’s cheek with one finger. “Sorry, Rome Siracusa. I guess we’re both condemned to our fates.” He reached around Rome’s back, opened the door, squeezed past Rome, and walked through it.
Rome didn’t move. His lips formed unsaid words. I’m gay. I’ve never been so attracted to anyone in my life. I can’t bear to watch you with that other man.
Suddenly he took a breath, turned, and ran into the hall. Smash! He collided with a waiter who carried a tray of drinks. The guy stumbled, managed to stay upright, but fell against the wall.
“Shit!” Rome grabbed for the glasses and saved all but one. “I’m really sorry.”
The poor townie looked stunned. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone.”
“I apologize. I thought I lost some change in there and opened the door to look. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out some bills. “Here. This will replace the drink I spilled.” He dropped the money on the tray. “Excuse me. I’m in a hurry.”
“Uh, thank you, sir.”
Rome just kept running out the back door and across the grass behind the club toward the rear of the parking lot. Lots of males and females wandered around the area, and he crouched behind a car until he could make it to his Tesla without being seen. As he drove out of the lot, a couple of people turned, but he didn’t look at them. Maybe they’d forget.
Pressing his foot harder than he should in Dark Harbor, he S-turned his way up the hill toward the Havilland mansion. I just want to talk a little more. Then maybe I can give up this idea that we’re supposed to be—what? He didn’t even want to think the word. We just need to talk.
