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Angela made a disgusted sound as she peered up at him. “Why are you so pretty?” she demanded.
Roman couldn’t help but stand a little taller. “You think I’m pretty?” This time, the rude, disgusted sound came from Morrigan. He shot her a dirty look before inquiring, “What exactly is going on here?” She looked innocent enough in her drunken state, but he wasn’t fooled. Morrigan didn’t have an innocent bone in her body.
“I’m just getting to know your doctor. Like you suggested,” she reminded him in answer.
“By getting her drunk?” he demanded. “This is not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Hey!” Angela yelled. “I’m right here. And I’m not drunk,” she denied, attempting a straight face.
“Ha! You really are... Running Man.” Morrigan cackled evilly.
Roman had no idea what she was talking about.
Angela gasped. “I am not!”
Morrigan shouted right back, “Are too!”
When Angela responded in kind yet again, and the pair of women continued to shout back and forth at each other, Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. They were giving him a headache. And anxiety. “Ladies, enough.”
“I’m no lady,” Morrigan asserted. But she did sit upright finally.
Angela didn’t move—other than her mouth. Which was being very loud. Apparently, she had forgotten what an inside voice was. “And I’m no lady, either,” she was saying. “I’m a donut-hole saving machine!”
Morrigan cheered, and when they begin to sing “We Are The Champions” by Queen, Roman had finally had enough. “That’s it, Angel. You’re cut off.”
Angela blew a raspberry at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Actually, he kind of is. He pays you,” Morrigan reminded her.
“Pfft. Semantics,” Angela muttered, waving her hand around wildly.
Roman had to jump back swiftly to avoid being hit in the nuts by her uncoordinated hand. He wasn’t going to argue with her, so he simply reached down and picked her up, holding her close to his chest.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked, grabbing onto his shoulders.
“I’m taking you to bed,” he responded with a grunt. She was damn strong.
“Nope,” Angela said, beginning to struggle. “I’m out of here.”
He put his face close to hers. “If you think I am going to let you drive home in this state, think again. You have two choices: I can set you up in a guest suite, or I can take you to my room and tie you to my bed like I’ve been longing to do.”
The rapid rising and falling of her generous breasts caught his attention, derailing his lecture. His hands flexed on the handfuls of Angela he already had. He personally liked option number two.
“Stop looking at my breasts,” Angela ordered him. But it sounded a little weak to him.
“I can’t seem to help it,” he admitted.
“Well...” Morrigan said, pushing herself to her feet. “You seem to have things well in hand, cousin. I’ll leave you to it.” She stopped and spoke to Angela on her way past. “Doc, don’t give up the booty on the first date.”
Angela nodded earnestly. “I won’t. I’m not that kind of girl.”
Roman snorted because she had indeed given her body over to him within twenty-four hours of meeting him. Hell, he didn’t even need to take her out on a date first. “Goodnight, Morrigan,” was all he said. “Abel? Help Morrigan to her room, will you?” He didn’t bother to look at the bickering pair as they left. Morrigan didn’t live at Omertà full-time, but she still had her own suite of rooms.
“This is a nice tie,” Angela murmured, picking up his tie and rubbing it along her face.
Roman didn’t know whether to be turned-on or horrified. “It’s silk.”
“Hmm, I like silk,” she said, slurring a little and moving the tie down her neck.
