credit card in hand. “Yes.”
“The gentleman you were with already paid the bill.”
“What?” Jules frowned. “But—”
“It’s all taken care of.” The waitress gave Jules a winning smile. “The maître d’
said he insisted. He’s got sorta an old-world charm, doesn’t he? And the guys in the back said he’s really famous in the fighting world. You’re so lucky.” 44
Jules huffed under her breath and purposely ignored the waitress, who seemed to think Jules should be unendingly grateful. But Jules was actually mad about it. So much for New York putting out progressive, modern men who didn’t mind a woman standing on her own two feet. It turned out Romeo was just like the men in Garnet, all brawn and balls, who expected a woman to swoon if he flexed his muscles and grunted loud enough.
“Thank you,” she said, refusing to look at the waitress who was not so subtly hinting that she had a crush on Jules’s date. She put her credit card back in her purse just as her phone buzzed. She picked it up, seeing a text from Romeo with a room number on it. She might have responded if she hadn’t happened to glance over her shoulder at the waitress, who was still hovering. “Can I help you?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” the waitress asked, hope shining in her dark eyes. “Or is this like a business meeting or something? It looked sorta like a business meeting, because neither of you were drinking and—”
“Are you serious?” Jules gaped for one long moment. Then she put her purse on her shoulder and stood. “You know what, never mind. I don’t got time for this.” She had bigger fish to fry than one lovesick waitress. She had a UFC fighter that needed to be put in his place.
45
Chapter Three
Romeo took the long way to his new room, including a stop at one of the gift shops for condoms. The two he carried in his wallet were probably too old to be safe, because the sad truth was, Romeo worked too hard to get laid.
Sure, the opportunity was always there. Romeo wasn’t blind or naive. He knew he was good-looking. When so inclined, sex was as easy to get as Chinese takeout in New York City, around every corner and more often than not, just a phone call away. But most women wanted love and commitment and lots and lots of time, which was one thing Romeo didn’t have. Even if they came to him under the guise of a casual fuck, there were always underlying expectations that Romeo knew he’d eventually destroy when fighting or family took priority.
And despite being a cocky bastard in front of the media and a genuinely mean fighter—Romeo didn’t like to break women’s hearts.
His mother just so happened to have been a woman, one who’d gotten her heart trampled on right up until the end of her life, when Frankie—Nova and Tino’s useless father—finally decided to give a shit and spent the last few months with them. Frankie had come clean to his wife over the long affair and his two bastard sons. He’d held Romeo’s mother’s hand while she lay there slowly dying and promised to look after her children.
His mother took peace in that only because she’d been too high on pain medicine to stop and consider what it meant to have a genuine mafioso promise to take her sons under his wing. Romeo was asked to throw a fight because of that stupid deathbed promise. That was Frankie’s way of looking out for them, lining his pockets with dirty money earned by Romeo’s blood, sweat, and tears.
46
Fuck that. Romeo would rather be celibate the rest of his years than be something that even closely resembled Frankie.
But Jules was different. She didn’t expect anything. Romeo was fairly certain she was going to kick him to the curb and never look back once this night was over. She wasn’t impressed by his fighting stats or his bank account. She wasn’t looking at him like a one-way ticket to easy street. She certainly wasn’t hearing wedding bells.
Jules Conner was very
“The gentleman you were with already paid the bill.”
“What?” Jules frowned. “But—”
“It’s all taken care of.” The waitress gave Jules a winning smile. “The maître d’
said he insisted. He’s got sorta an old-world charm, doesn’t he? And the guys in the back said he’s really famous in the fighting world. You’re so lucky.” 44
Jules huffed under her breath and purposely ignored the waitress, who seemed to think Jules should be unendingly grateful. But Jules was actually mad about it. So much for New York putting out progressive, modern men who didn’t mind a woman standing on her own two feet. It turned out Romeo was just like the men in Garnet, all brawn and balls, who expected a woman to swoon if he flexed his muscles and grunted loud enough.
“Thank you,” she said, refusing to look at the waitress who was not so subtly hinting that she had a crush on Jules’s date. She put her credit card back in her purse just as her phone buzzed. She picked it up, seeing a text from Romeo with a room number on it. She might have responded if she hadn’t happened to glance over her shoulder at the waitress, who was still hovering. “Can I help you?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” the waitress asked, hope shining in her dark eyes. “Or is this like a business meeting or something? It looked sorta like a business meeting, because neither of you were drinking and—”
“Are you serious?” Jules gaped for one long moment. Then she put her purse on her shoulder and stood. “You know what, never mind. I don’t got time for this.” She had bigger fish to fry than one lovesick waitress. She had a UFC fighter that needed to be put in his place.
45
Chapter Three
Romeo took the long way to his new room, including a stop at one of the gift shops for condoms. The two he carried in his wallet were probably too old to be safe, because the sad truth was, Romeo worked too hard to get laid.
Sure, the opportunity was always there. Romeo wasn’t blind or naive. He knew he was good-looking. When so inclined, sex was as easy to get as Chinese takeout in New York City, around every corner and more often than not, just a phone call away. But most women wanted love and commitment and lots and lots of time, which was one thing Romeo didn’t have. Even if they came to him under the guise of a casual fuck, there were always underlying expectations that Romeo knew he’d eventually destroy when fighting or family took priority.
And despite being a cocky bastard in front of the media and a genuinely mean fighter—Romeo didn’t like to break women’s hearts.
His mother just so happened to have been a woman, one who’d gotten her heart trampled on right up until the end of her life, when Frankie—Nova and Tino’s useless father—finally decided to give a shit and spent the last few months with them. Frankie had come clean to his wife over the long affair and his two bastard sons. He’d held Romeo’s mother’s hand while she lay there slowly dying and promised to look after her children.
His mother took peace in that only because she’d been too high on pain medicine to stop and consider what it meant to have a genuine mafioso promise to take her sons under his wing. Romeo was asked to throw a fight because of that stupid deathbed promise. That was Frankie’s way of looking out for them, lining his pockets with dirty money earned by Romeo’s blood, sweat, and tears.
46
Fuck that. Romeo would rather be celibate the rest of his years than be something that even closely resembled Frankie.
But Jules was different. She didn’t expect anything. Romeo was fairly certain she was going to kick him to the curb and never look back once this night was over. She wasn’t impressed by his fighting stats or his bank account. She wasn’t looking at him like a one-way ticket to easy street. She certainly wasn’t hearing wedding bells.
Jules Conner was very
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