Page 33 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

THIRTY-TWO

Olivia

I wake up in an empty bed.

Reaching out, I find a cold pillow next to me. I don't even remember when I fell asleep. It takes my mind a moment to adjust, to recall everything that happened yesterday. I was alone in this damn mansion again, my fingers between my thighs when?—

Oh my god. My cheeks flame. Sam heard me touching myself while moaning his name. Embarrassment claws its way up my throat, but then the image of him crawling onto my bed appears. He was turned on by the sight.

Images of him fucking me in this very bed flash through my mind.

I've never enjoyed sex before; it always felt like a chore. But that? That felt nothing like a chore.

Who knew it could be so damn good.

But now I'm alone again.

I'm not sure why that makes me feel so… bad. I'm used to being alone. Alone has always been easier, and it's not like Sam's my boyfriend. He's my captor. I shouldn't be expecting to wake up with him cuddling me and whispering sweet nothings.

And yet, it stings that he's not here.

I shake it off, telling myself I'm being silly. Acting like a child with a crush.

Redirecting, I move the shower and strip down, cleaning yesterday off and focusing on getting ready for today.

When I head downstairs, I expect to see him in the dining room with his normal cup of coffee and whatever breakfast his staff prepared. But his seat is empty. I eat alone, and when I exit the dining room, Roman is waiting for me.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

Something tugs at my heart, and I desperately want to ask where his boss is. But I'm not that girl. I don't pine over men.

"Yeah," I tell him.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I fucked the man I witnessed kill someone and think he's going to coddle me and give me the girlfriend experience?

I'm acting just like my mother.

Falling in love with a gangster and expecting them to behave like something other than who they are.

I sling another tray of clean glasses onto the bar with more force than necessary. Roman glances up from his phone, one eyebrow raised.

"Something bothering you?"

"Nope, I'm perfectly fine." I grab one of the glasses, stacking it on the appropriate shelf.

"Sure you are." He smirks. "That's why you've been slamming things around all day."

I narrow my eyes. "Don't you have something better to do than psychoanalyze me? Like, I don't know, standing outside or whatever it is you're supposed to be doing?"

"My job is to watch you," Roman says as he pockets his phone. "And right now, watching you is like seeing a cat with its fur rubbed the wrong way."

"Well, sorry, my emotional state isn't entertaining enough." I grab a bottle of bourbon, restocking the shelf with unnecessary vigor. "Maybe Sam should've assigned you somewhere more exciting."

"Ah." Roman's face lights up with understanding. "So that's what this is about."

"This isn't about anything," I hiss, feeling heat creep up my neck. "Especially not your boss."

"Did something happen between you two?" he asks, both eyebrows now raised with amusement.

"No. No. No." I say the word too many times, my octave changing with each one.

"Uh oh." Roman moves closer, leaning in against the bar. "What did he do?"

"I'm not gossiping like schoolgirls with you." No, instead, I just take out my feelings on inanimate objects.

"Whatever you say, Liv."

"Don't call me that."

Roman lifts his hands in mock surrender and shuts his mouth.

By the time I'm done preparing for service, it's past four and the bar is open for the day.

My new bartender called in sick, and the place is starting to pick up.

Joey's down at one end, serving beers, while I'm mixing a drink.

Even Roman has abandoned his normal spot at the bar to help ring up drinks.

Once five p.m. hits, and I refuse to leave Joey alone, Roman begins glancing at his watch and looking to me. He's sweating. I’m placing him in a battle between me and his boss. I do feel a little bad for Roman, but not enough to abandon my bar.

He eyes me again as he glances down at his phone, concern etched in his brow. I'm getting good at reading his expressions. I'd even go as far as saying that Roman and I are friends. Even if he is my permanent babysitter.

"Whatever he said, I don't want to know," I tell him as I fill another pitcher of beer for the table of jocks.

Not leaving the bar at five p.m. sharp means disobeying Sam's "rules," something that is making Roman twitchy.

"This isn't a good way to get back at the boss for whatever he did last night." Roman sighs, taking a credit card from another customer and sliding it through the machine.

Okay, maybe I am a little mad about waking up alone. But also, there are too many people here right now for Joey to be on his own. It's not like this is all about Sam.

Besides, if he wants to make this thing — whatever it is — between us work, then he needs to loosen his reins a bit. Not that I think Sam is capable of losing any bit of control.

"Roman." It's a woman's voice who speaks my babysitter’s name.

I look up, finding her standing next to Roman, head tilted with confusion.

She has dark roots that fade into teal blue-colored hair that hangs in loose waves.

She's with a small group of four men and another girl.

I recognize them as regulars from before Sam took me hostage and I stopped my evening shifts.

"I didn't realize you got a second job. Is my cousin not paying you enough?

" she teases with a smile. But then she looks around the bar until her eyes land on me.

"Oh. Does that mean she's the girl?" she asks, flicking her gaze back to Roman.

"Madi," Roman grumbles, clearly unenthused to see whoever this is. "Does Adrian know you're here?"

"He's not my keeper." She frowns, moving away from Roman as she steps up to the bar directly across from where I'm standing. "Are you the girl Sam's keeping locked up in his house?"

Her directness startles me. I'm not sure how to answer her; I don't even know who she is.

Roman clears that up for me quickly. "Madi." He speaks her name with a tone of frustration. "This is Olivia." He waves at me. "Olivia, this is Madi Russo, Sam's cousin."

"Cousin." I repeat the word. I can see it now. They have some similar features, the same sharp nose. But Madi has more softness to her face, more femininity, whereas Sam's is hard and blunt.

She reaches across the bar, taking my hand in hers. "How are you?" she asks. There's a seriousness in her eyes, like she's genuinely concerned about me. "Be honest. If he's hurting you, I'll take care of it. I swear."

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. I'm unsure of what to say. "Fine, I guess."

"I'm serious," Madi adds. "The men in this family can act like Neanderthals. You have to be stern with them."

"Madi, you're scaring her." Roman huffs.

She whips her hair, looking at him, offended. "I'm helping her," she corrects him. "God knows, no one helped me."

Roman rolls his eyes, scoffing. "That's a lie."

"Keep it up." Madi slaps her hands on her hips, taunting him. "And I'll tell Sam his enforcer is bullying me." She mock pouts, and I can't help but laugh.

"That's an option?"

Madi smiles. "You have endless options, you just need to know how to work 'em."

The bell above the entrance chimes, and my attention turns to greet the new customer, only it's not a new customer. It's Sam.

There's an angry scowl on his face as he marches over to me. "I'll deal with you later." He looks at Madi first, then his attention turns to me. "You. Back room. Now."

"See, Neanderthals." Madi gestures to Sam, and she's right; his one-word sentences do feel very Neanderthal.

"It was nice meeting you," I say to Madi, genuinely meaning it. She seems kind, like someone I'd like to know.

"You too, Olivia. Please, reach out if you need me. That one has my number." She tilts her head to Roman.

Sam rounds the bar, completely ignoring his cousin as he presses his palm to my lower back. I decide not to anger him any further and let him lead me into the back room.

"It's busy out there. Joey needs my help," I say quickly, not wanting him to spend too much time back here while Joey gets overwhelmed out front.

"I don't give a fuck." His hands are on me the second we're alone, making my breath catch.

He presses me against the wall of supplies, the shelf rattling as my spine hits it.

Checking his watch, those dark eyes flick to the expensive timepiece and then meet my gaze.

"It's six p.m. You're supposed to be home. "

Bourbon and leather invade my senses, and for a brief moment, I want to melt in his arms. Tell him I'm sorry and let him drag me back to his house.

But then I remember what Madi told me, that I need to be stern with him. I have endless options, and I just need to work 'em.

"Megan called in sick. I need to cover for her," I try explaining nicely.

"Have someone else do it."

"That's not how this works, Sam. I'm the boss. It was short notice, no one else is available, and I'm already here. It makes sense."

"No," he practically growls. Caveman. "Find someone else. I don't want you here after dark."

"I'm a big girl, Sam. I can take care of myself. Plus, you have Roman here."

His jaw clenches tight, his eyes narrowing. "I don't care how big of a girl you are. You're not staying."

I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to back down. "And what exactly are you going to do? Throw me over your shoulder and drag me out of here in front of all my customers?"

"If that's what it takes."

My eyes narrow on his. "You wouldn't."

Sam steps closer, towering over me. "Try me."

Pressing my palms against his chest, I feel the solid muscle beneath his shirt. "What is this?" I ask, the words popping from my lips before I have a chance to overthink them.

Sam tilts his head, his eyebrow ticking. "What is what?"

"This." I wave my hand between our bodies as my heart pounds in my ears. "This thing between us. What are we doing? What are we?"

Sam closes his eyes for a moment, his hands dropping from the wall, no longer caging me in.

"I'm not good at relationships, Olivia," he says finally.

Something burns inside my chest. I don't even want to date Sam, but those words have me aching.

"That's not what I'm asking for," I say. "But you can't just fuck me, abandon ship, and then show up the next day, making demands. It's confusing?—"

"Abandon ship?" Sam muses. "Is this because I didn't sleep over… Is that what you want?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." I huff, throwing up my hands and letting them fall. "I'm confused, alright? You're so hot and cold, and I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's not that complicated, baby girl. You're mine."

"You can't just claim me! You keep saying I'm yours, but I'm a person. I don't belong to you!" I shove my hands against his chest, but he doesn't budge. Instead, he lifts his hands and presses them against the shelf, caging me in again.

"You are mine, Olivia. You've been mine since our eyes met in that alley. Need me to prove it to you?"