Page 38 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

THIRTY-SEVEN

Olivia

E verything has changed.

I don't hate Sam anymore. Somehow, he’s wormed his way into my heart, and it's a scary feeling. Knowing who he is and what he does makes me feel like I need to run away faster than ever. The past tells me that this is only going to end badly.

But for some reason I don't understand, I can't seem to listen to that little voice in my head.

Maybe it's the sex.

Or maybe it's that, underneath his hard exterior, Sam might actually be a good person. He's just… human.

Once he opened up about his mother and being kidnapped as a child, my heart shattered for him. I had created this image in my mind of him being a hardened criminal. Someone with no feelings and no remorse.

But the truth is, he wasn't born this way. He was created over time, teachings, and trauma.

I don't think he aims to hurt people. I think he's protective of the people he cares about. I've seen him with his cousins, and I think he truly loves them. He would do anything to keep them safe.

Somehow, I'm feeling lighter now.

It's late afternoon and the bar only has the few regulars who Joey is taking care of. Roman sits on his normal bar stool, eyes scanning the place like a threat could arrive at any moment.

"You know," I say, tossing the rag into the sink, "you could at least pretend to be a normal customer instead of looking like you're about to tackle someone."

Roman raises an eyebrow. "I'm security, not an actor."

"You're scaring away my customers."

"Your customers are three old men who wouldn't notice if I was naked, as long as their glasses stay full."

One of the three old men looks our way, but then shrugs his shoulder and takes another sip of his beer.

I snort. "Speaking of which, you haven't touched your drink in an hour. You're taking up valuable real estate."

"You charging me rent now?" He smirks, picking up the virgin daiquiri I made him and chugging it in one go. I've developed a habit of making him the most feminine drinks I can think of. If he's gonna be here watching me, I might as well have a little fun. "Fine. Another one. Make it fancy."

"What, with a little umbrella? You want me to cut the lime into a swan while I'm at it?"

"I was thinking more like a lemon twist. Show off those bartending skills you're so proud of."

I roll my eyes but grab a lemon anyway. "These skills cost money. Are you going to pay for this drink?"

Roman chuckles. "I drive you to work every day. Isn't that payment enough? You have terrible taste in music."

This morning, I made him listen to Taylor Swift on the way here while I belted out the heartfelt lyrics. Roman claimed I was making his ears bleed. So I sang louder.

"Aw, is babysitting such a hard job?" I mock pout at him as I strategically peel the skin of the lemon into a little twist, perching it on the rim of his club soda.

"Babysitting." He scoffs. "More like keeping you alive. Though some days that feels like babysitting."

The bell above the door chimes, and I look up with my customer service smile already in place.

It freezes on my face.

Rhett stands in the doorway, his lanky frame silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

His blond hair is shorter than when I last saw him, but he's exactly the same in every other way.

He's wearing a pair of charcoal gray dress pants and a plaid button-up.

I used to enjoy seeing him dressed up, feeling like I was dating a man who did something important.

But he wasn't important at all. Just another employee who worked with my stepfather, shuffling papers all day in a stuffy office.

He just liked to feel important and hold it over my head every chance he had.

A toxic mix of emotions spirals through me.

Some time ago, I thought I loved the man who’s standing in the entrance staring at me.

I'm not really sure I knew what love was, though.

I was living a make-believe life, pretending that it was everything I wanted because it made my mother happy.

But I'm not sure I ever really loved Rhett.

On paper, he was perfect. Job, money, house, he had it all.

And I was the shiny jewel on his arm. The missing piece that created his picture-perfect life.

When I broke it off, my mother cried more than I did. She thought I was ruining my life, flushing it down the toilet. And then my father died, and I inherited this bar, and she cried again, sobbing about how I hated her. How I was doing this on purpose to make her miserable.

Her misery was what I had been trying to avoid for as long as I can remember.

Moving here was the first time in my twenty-five years that I've been selfish.

Rhett has an easy smile, and he peers around the bar until he sees me, standing with Roman's drink in my hand and a shell-shocked look on my face. Beside me, Roman says something, but his voice is like Charlie Brown’s parents, meaningless sounds that don't connect in my head.

Fancy dress shoes tap against the laminate flooring as Rhett moves closer to the bar. The drink in my hand is taken away, and that snaps me out of my head. I look at Roman, who has a concerned expression etched across his features.

"You know him?" he asks, low enough for only me to hear.

"Uh huh." I nod.

"You want me to get rid of him?" he asks, just as Rhett reaches the bar.

I don't have a chance to answer before my ex is greeting me, attempting to reach over the surface to hug me. I step back, avoiding his touch, and he acts like nothing happened.

"Liv." He has that bright, charming smile on his face, the one that makes everyone fall for him.

"Should I call Sam?" Roman asks, his phone already in hand, ready to tap a few buttons and have his boss here in minutes.

I shake my head. What would Sam even do? No. I need to figure out what my ex wants, and then get rid of him.

"Why are you here?"

Rhett flinches at my tone. "Your mom's worried about you," he says, leaning against the bar like he belongs there. "You haven't called her in weeks."

I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "So she sent you across the country to check on me? That's hard to believe."

"I was coming to New Orleans for a conference anyway." He shrugs, his eyes scanning the bar with that subtle judgment I always hated. "Thought I'd see how you're doing with this...project of yours."

The way he says "project" makes my skin crawl. Like the bar is some temporary hobby I'll abandon when I come to my senses. Like he doesn't believe I meant it when I said I was coming here. He thinks I'll come to my senses and come crawling back to him, eventually.

"It's not a project, Rhett. It's my business."

Roman shifts beside me, his presence suddenly reassuring. I notice how his body has angled slightly between me and Rhett.

"Come on, Liv. We both know this isn't what you really want." Rhett lowers his voice, trying for intimacy. "Your mom misses you. I miss you."

"You miss having someone to show off at company parties," I snap.

His smile falters. "That's not fair."

"Neither was pressuring me to be someone I'm not for three years.

" I grab a glass and start wiping it, needing something to do with my hands.

"And neither was cheating on me with anything that moved.

Tell my mother I'm fine. Tell her the bar is doing well.

Tell her whatever you want, but I'm not coming back. "

Rhett's expression hardens. "You're throwing away everything for a rundown bar in a dangerous neighborhood? This place isn't even worth?—"

"That's enough." Roman's voice cuts through the tension.

Rhett finally seems to notice him, eyes narrowing. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who thinks you should leave." Roman doesn't raise his voice, but there's steel behind his words.

I haven't had the chance to see him in protective mode, since most of the time he's been here, we've been laughing and bantering like siblings.

But now his chest is puffed out and his face is a clear warning.

"I'm having a conversation with my fiancée."

"Ex-fiancée," I correct immediately. "Very ex."

"Look, Liv, just come have dinner with me tonight. For old times' sake." Rhett's tone softens, the charm back in place. "We can talk about your options."

"I don't need options. I need you to leave."

The bell above the door chimes again, and I look up, hoping it's just another customer.

But it's not just another customer…

It's Sam.