“Enough,” Roman said in a low voice. The last thing he wanted was to hear reminders of how far out of his league Suzanne was. He already knew it, had known it before he’d started to fall for her.
“I know you don’t want to hear it,” his father insisted, “but I love you, son. Too much to let you walk down the same road I did.”
“How much do you need this time?” Done with the chitchat, Roman reached for his wallet. The sooner they concluded their business, the sooner his dad would leave. Hopefully before Suzanne got off the phone.
“A thousand bucks.” His father scowled. “The refs must have rigged last night’s match. But I’ll win for sure tonight.”
“Here.” Roman added a couple hundred to the total, hoping it would buy him some time before the next paternal visit.
His father pocketed the money, but didn’t turn to go. Instead, he had that calculating look in his eyes that said he wanted more than some temporary cash to tide him over. “Sure you don’t want to get back in the ring?”
“Nope.”
After Roman had left Eddie’s dad, Darrell, on a stretcher, bleeding so bad from one eye socket that they hadn’t been able to save his eye—all so their dads could make a few bucks betting on their match—Roman had never stepped back into the ring again. Though he still made money with his fists when he needed them to protect a client, he only used brute force when he absolutely had to. Being a bodyguard was about being smart enough to outmaneuver the incoming threat. As far as he was concerned, if it got physical he hadn’t done his job.
“Back in the day, the crowds were huge if you were fighting.” His father loved to talk about what he considered to be the glory days. “There’s never been anyone like you in the ring, Roman.”
“I didn’t know you used to box professionally.” Suzanne walked back into the kitchen and put her phone on the counter.
Roman hadn’t heard the patio door slide open. Damn it, why couldn’t Alec have kept her on the phone longer? “I didn’t.”
“He could have, though. He was the best amateur boxer in the city.” His father was beaming at Suzanne. “If we could only get him back into the ring, I’d bet my last dollar on my son. He always won, no matter what it took. Even if he had to fight dirty,” he added with a laugh that said he didn’t give a crap how bad it had been for the other guys in the ring, as long as his son won.
Suzanne frowned as she looked back at Roman. “I can’t see you fighting dirty.”
“Oh yeah,” his father got in before Roman could get him the hell out the door. “Anything to make sure his pop went home with more than he came in with. Best son a guy could ever have.” He patted the wad of money in his back pocket. “Still is. Always there to help me out when Lady Luck is being fickle.”
Roman could see Suzanne’s wheels turning. He’d known all along that if he let her get this close—if he got out of control enough to take her to his bed—he was going to have to tell her the full truth about why he didn’t deserve her. But he’d hoped to have the rest of tonight, at least, before she saw him for the scum that he was.
“It’s been a long day, Pop. Time to go.”
His father looked like he wanted to stay and get to know Suzanne better—and the half-full bottle of red wine on the counter was likely calling his name too. Fortunately, he was more interested in betting the money burning a hole in his pocket.
Moving toward Suzanne, Tommy took her hand and kissed the back of it. “There’s nothing like a beautiful woman to make an old man’s steps a little lighter.” After he let her go, he nodded at Roman. “Thanks for the loan, son.”
Roman didn’t get riled up anymore about all the “loans” he’d given his father during the past fifteen years. His dad was just one more person to watch out for. Roman would never be able to save him from his gambling addiction—or the skanky women he fell in with—but he couldn’t abandon him either.
The door had barely closed behind his father when Suzanne said, “He bet on your boxing matches?”
It was time for Roman to come clean.
Still, it was hard to change the patterns of over a decade—of diverting people from probing too deeply. “It’s ancient history.”
“History matters. Especially when it comes to family. If anyone knows that, I do.” She put her arms around his waist. “Did you like boxing?”
“It didn’t matter if I liked it.”
“What happened if you lost?”
Her questions were too incisive. Too close to the parts of himself that he hated having to examine. “I didn’t.”