Trapped by the Bastard's Kiss

Chapter 2

“Is that you, honey?” Sonia Mazzeo’s sweet, melodic voice called from the kitchen the instant Roman closed the door behind him.

“Evening, mum,” Roman called back by way of confirmation.

A minute didn’t go by and Sonia’s lean, tall body came into sight as she walked out of the kitchen and walked over to him, and gave him her usual hug. She always did this when he came home, as though he had been gone for months or years and not mere hours. And then she looked him over as though she just needed to be certain her son was in one piece. One would have thought he worked in a dangerous environment and not an office, but Roman would never deny his mother the comfort of a hug if it was what she needed to be sure all was well.

“How was your day, honey?” she finally asked and took a step back.

Although she was home, his mother didn’t have a hair out of place or a wrinkle on her white pants and baby blue blouse top. Roman, on the other hand, was ready to drop anything hinting at formal wear and order.

Roman removed his jacket, pulled out his tie, and unbuttoned the first two buttons on his still perfectly smooth dress shirt. It was six in the evening, but like his mother, there wasn’t a hair out of place on his head or a wrinkle on his clothes. She had raised him right and would have immediately thought something was wrong if he came in looking nothing but perfect.

“Very long,” he answered his mother and moved to the kitchen, straight for the large chrome fridge and a bottle of cool water. He had downed half of it in one long gulp before he lowered the bottle to acknowledge the other person in the kitchen.

Lucky for him, Lucy didn’t seem offended by his lack of manners. The gentle woman was their housekeeper, cook, and every other title they could think of short of a fairy godmother.

She was different from his mother but still a captivating woman. While Sonia was only forty-four years old, Lucy had a dozen years more. His mother was tall and slender with short brown hair she kept in a bob around her face. On the other hand, Lucy was of medium build. She definitely had more meat on her bones than his mother. Plump from too many cupcakes, like she liked to say. She had long dreadlocks, which she kept tied at the base of her skull. Lucy wasn’t as tall as Sonia and she had a darker skin tone, a gift from her mixed ancestry.

The two women were inseparable. They were as thick as thieves, best friends since the day Lucy came to work for them five years ago. And they both loved Roman almost too much.

“Evening, Lucy,” Roman greeted and bent down to peck her forehead.

Lucy patted his arm and smiled. “Dinner is almost ready. You go up and wash up. I already put fresh laundry in your drawers, so your favorite shorts are in there.”

“Lucy, for the love of God, don’t baby the man,” Sonia reprimanded. But it was the most hypocritical thing she could have said, considering she had his discarded jacket and tie in her hands, cleaning up after him like usual. Something the old lady didn’t miss, and it sprouted a discussion about who was actually spoiling Roman.

Roman couldn’t get out of the kitchen fast enough. He made his way to his room and closed the door before leaning against it and sighing. Yep. That was his life. He was a twenty-seven-year-old successful businessman on his way to making a name for himself and he lived with his mother.

Technically, his mother lived with him, but Roman wasn’t fooled about who ruled the house. It wasn’t him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. His mother had sacrificed everything for him. He loved her and wanted her close.

Sonia didn’t suffocate Roman’s life. When he wanted to play, which he did often before the last four months, he was free to play. He went clubbing and took his hookups to a hotel. She never judged or tried to push him to settle down with a nice girl. That wasn’t who his mother was. She was actually more like a best friend. Only he couldn’t brag about his conquests with her. There had to be some limits. Besides, he had Sean for that.

Twenty minutes later, Roman stepped out of his bathroom, freshly showered and still wet. He was just pulling on his favorite shorts when there was a knock at the door. Roman frowned and threw on a t-shirt before opening the door for his mother.

“I’m coming down,” he told her. In case she thought he had fallen asleep and was about to miss dinner, which was most often the only proper meal he ate in a day.

Sonia waved her hand, dismissing his words, and walked in. “No. I actually wanted to catch you before you sat down to eat.”

“Okay. What’s up?” Roman asked and went about finishing his after-bath rituals before he could head back downstairs.

“A dinner invitation was brought to the house this afternoon,” she informed him.

A curse flew out of his mouth before he could hold it back. Roman turned and looked at his mother. “He’s very persistent today, it seems. I got one at the office as well.”

His mother looked shocked to hear this. Her eyes widened and then narrowed with suspicion. “What does he want?”

Roman shook his head and ran his fingers through his wet hair. “You read the card, didn’t you? It doesn’t say. It just reads dinner invitation. Maybe he’s feeling emotional and wants to play happy, united family.”

Sonia scoffed. “The Frederick Pollen I knew doesn’t have a bone of emotion in his body. He only does things that benefit him and make him look good.”

“Which is why I crushed the invitation I got at the office without a second thought. I don’t plan to be a puppet in the old man’s games.” Roman paused and frowned as he stared at the painting above his bed without really seeing it. His mind was trying to make some sense of the father’s sudden eagerness to have him over for dinner. Knowing Frederick Pollen, it couldn’t be anything good.

“I’ll go,” he suddenly announced.

Sonia looked up with wide eyes and blinked at her son. “Why?”

A beat passed, and then he shrugged. “Curiosity.”

“It killed the cat.”

Roman laughed and went over to his mother, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and walking her out of his room back downstairs where an amazing aroma was calling him. “I’m not a house cat, mother. I’m a cheetah.”

His mother shook her head and mumbled. “All those years putting you through school and they couldn’t even teach you that a cheetah is still a cat.”

Another burst of laughter left Roman’s throat. He squeezed his mother in a quick hug but didn’t respond. He knew she didn’t want him to go. But Roman had to go to this dinner. Two invitations were just too much effort on Frederick’s part for Roman to ignore. Something was up and he wanted to know what.