by Sienna Blake
“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.
“This is your reward.”
“What?”
“For trusting me. Now…hold still.”
Hold still. His hand shifted up my thigh, pushing my skirt further up. His fingertips burning along my inner thigh like they were made of hot irons.
I squeezed my legs shut, trapping his hand so he could touch no further. “Don’t.”
“Don’t make a scene, detective.”
Me making the scene? I wasn’t the one with his damn hand up my skirt.
“Open your legs.”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “That camera up there can’t see my hand under the table, but it can see your face. If you don’t want to draw attention,” he pinched my inner thigh with his fingers and I whimpered, “you’ll be a good girl and open your legs.”
Fuck him. But I knew he’d won. I relaxed my thigh muscles slowly, knowing that this was such a bad fucking idea. Somehow not caring enough to protest too hard.
“Wider.”
He nudged my thighs with his hand. I let them fall apart.
“Good girl.” His fingers brushed against the front of my panties. I gasped as stardust and rockets burst across my body.
“Detective Capulet.” Roman’s deep voice cut through into my brain fog even as his fingers kept rubbing my clit in circles. “I need you to keep asking me questions.”
“What?”
His fingers paused. I almost let out a whimper. His eyes flicked up and back over my head. Right. The video camera. Someone could be watching us from above. They couldn’t hear us or see his hand under the table but they could see our lips. I had to keep asking him questions so that everything appeared normal.
Roman stared at me from across the table, hunger in his eyes. “You ask a question,” his finger pushed aside my panties, “and I’ll give you an answer.” He thrust a finger inside my wet entrance, sending a hot wave of pleasure through me. God, I’d missed his touch. It had only been two days but it had felt like a lifetime apart.
He stilled. I almost cried out with frustration.
“Question. Answer. Do you understand, detective?”
His words clicked in. If I kept asking him questions, he’d keep touching me. If I stopped so would he.
“What’s your full name?” I blurted out, a stupid question to ask seeing as we already had his name recorded, but I was barely thinking straight. His finger began its languid tantalizing thrusting. I sucked in a breath.
“Roman Giovanni Tyrell.”
“And your girlfriend’s name is?” I said, breathlessly. In and out went his finger.
“You already know that, detective.”
“And you…you like chocolate, right?” I was mumbling, saying anything, asking anything that came to mind. Anything to make sure he didn’t stop.
He chuckled. “I do like chocolate. Especially when it’s melted all over the divine body of my very sexy woman. In fact, when I see her next I might just have to eat her pussy with chocolate.” He added a second finger, widening my aching, needy core further.
“Oh dear God,” I hissed.
Roman lifted an eyebrow at me, his two fingers paused at the hilt inside me. “Was that a question, Detective Capulet?”
“I…um, how long have you known her?”
His fingers began to draw in and out of me again. I almost cried with happiness. “It feels like forever.”
“And how would you…how would you describe her?” I muttered, lost in the waves that were running up and down my body.
“She dims even the stars,” he began, his words catching my attention.
His eyes caught mine as I snapped them open.
He raised an eyebrow. “Shall I continue, Detective Capulet?”
God, yes. “That would be good,” I stuttered.
The smile on Roman’s face widened. He curled his two fingers in, stroking at that glorious spot on the front wall of my pussy while he drew small circles on my clit with his thumb. Fuck, that was so good, the waves of pleasure growing deep and thick. My toes curled up in my shoes. I shut my eyes. Thank God the camera couldn’t see my face.
I barely listened as he spoke, describing her, me. It was all just a deep, soothing rumble outside of the pleasure cave I was lost in. The pressure built and built until I was trembling in my seat.
“Detective Capulet,” he said breaking into my thoughts, “you look like you are so close to your last question.”
“Yes,” I breathed out, my body already pulsating around his fingers, sweat breaking out across my forehead. I was going to go over the edge. Right here in the interrogation room with Roman Tyrell’s fingers deep inside my greedy, wet pussy.
“Do you…care about her?” I spluttered. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word love.
His fingers slid out of me, pausing for a mere second. “I’d kill for her.” He slammed his fingers deep inside, hard against my g-spot, his thumb vibrating against my clit. His words. His touch. The complete reckless taboo of it. It was all too much.
I came hard, biting down on my bottom lip so I wouldn’t scream, so hard that I tasted blood. My vision went white. My pussy clamped around his fingers, my fists scrunching my notepad in front of me as pleasure rolled through me wave after wave.
He pulled his fingers from me as my orgasm faded. I slumped back in my chair and blinked at him. Did that really happen?
Across the table, Roman’s eyes seared into mine, a hungry yet satisfied grin on his face. He pulled his right hand up and brushed his two fingers across his mouth, smearing it with my juices. He lowered his hand before he licked the taste of me off his lips.
33
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Julianna
Rosaline corroborated Roman’s story. Her lies perfectly matched his. Too perfect. He must have known that Eddie’s body had been found. He must have known that he’d be interrogated.
Roman disappeared behind a wall of expensive lawyers. We couldn’t hold him. Not unless we could find more evidence.
“Don’t leave town,” Espo said with a scowl as he held the station door open for Roman.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Roman said, his eyes on me. “Not while I’m having so much fun here.”
I flushed under his stare and hoped to hell that Espo didn’t notice. My mind flashed to what he had done to me in the interrogation room. I shivered at the memory of his fingers inside me. Damn you, Roman Tyrell. Damn you in the best way.
* * *
Roman was standing in my living room when I returned home that evening. I quickly locked my front door behind me and deposited my bag on the side table. He still hadn’t moved or said a word. I frowned as I studied him. His features, which earlier had seemed lightened by my admission that I knew he was innocent, were now grim. An uneasy feeling coiled in my belly. Something had changed since he walked out of the police station earlier today.
“Where have you been these last two days?” I asked, something I’d not been able to ask before now. “I was so worried when I didn’t hear from you. No response. Nothing. Then Eddie…”
His features twitched at that name, but he didn’t speak. Something was wrong.
“Roman, talk to me.” I moved towards him.
He avoided my grasp and we found ourselves circling each other. A flash of pain cut across his face. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“I don’t understand. Why won’t you let me touch you?” I reached for him again but he grabbed my wrists.
The cold, cruel mask he wore with such a practiced ease, the one I hated so much, slammed down over his face. “I am a Tyrell.” Even his voice calloused over. “It doesn’t matter how hard I try to fight it, it’s in my blood. I can never get away from it. It’s part of me. The only thing you can do is to be smart. Walk away.”
I shook my head and yanked against his grasp. �
�I won’t—”
“You have a choice. Be smart. Walk away from me.”
“You have a choice, too.”
“I have no choice.” His voice boomed out like a gunshot. He let go of me as if I’d burned him, one of his hands coming up to run through his hair.
I refused to flinch. I refused to be swayed, to give up like he obviously already had. I would fight for both of us. “You always have a choice.”
His gaze snapped to mine. His eyes were now the only thing that was alive in him; they burned like they were on fire. “You don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t understand. I love you.” These words spilled out of me. The words were like a stopper. As soon as they were released out came a pouring bubbling mess of every feeling I had tried to deny to myself. I loved him. I loved Roman Tyrell. I let out a strange, curt giggle as my chest tickled full of fireflies.
His eyes widened for a single moment. For a single moment I thought I had reached him. His tenderness turned to bitter ash. “You can’t possibly love me.”
“I do.” I grabbed his tense shoulders and matched his stare, begging him to believe me. “You’re a good man who—”
“A good man.” His face twisted, darkness leaking into every crease. He pushed my hands off him. I burned and crumpled with rejection. “Let me tell you what this good man did.”
“There’s nothing you can say that would—”
“I killed Eduardo Sanchez.”
The blood drained from my face. My fingers grew cold as they hung from numb arms. “You’re lying.”
“I am not. I pointed the gun at his head and I pulled the trigger.” There was no remorse on his face. No sign of guilt. Just pure, dark hatred. Hatred for me? Or…himself?
I shook my head like I was batting away the words coming out of his mouth. This was a mistake. A dream. A nightmare. This wasn’t the real Roman standing here talking to me.
I could not believe it. There must be some reason… “Why? Were you forced into it? Did your father—”
“He could not be trusted to keep what I did for you a secret. You were in danger if he lived.”
“I would kill for her.” Roman admitted it in the interrogation room. I just hadn’t been listening.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Roman said nothing. He just stood there while my world was shaking under my feet. Why would he do this? Why would he admit such a thing, if it were even true?
Realization struck me. “You want to push me away.”
“You should be running, not walking away from me, Jules.”
I shook my head. “You...you were just protecting me.”
“I am a Tyrell,” he repeated. “I’m nothing but a bloodthirsty monster.”
“No,” I said. “You are not a monster. You’re a good man who did a bad thing. You were just protecting me.”
“I am not a good man.”
“You are. You saved me from being raped. From being kidnapped.”
“I killed both those men.”
“To protect me. Only to protect me.”
He shook his head violently. “Stop turning everything into something good.”
“You are good. Deep down, you are.”
“I tried to be good for you, but I can’t fake it anymore. I am a Tyrell down to the core.”
Something had happened; I could see it clearly. Something had happened in the last two days to make him think there was no hope for him. The last flame was extinguished after he left the police station.
I still burned with hope. I had to hope it was enough.
“What happened while you were away? What happened this afternoon?”
His eyes glittered with hatred. “I woke up.”
I grabbed his neck, sliding my other palm on his cheek. “Roman,” I pleaded, “you are not your father.”
Believe me, you have to believe me.
I saw the flash of surprise in the lift of his brows. For a second I thought I’d finally gotten through to him…
His eyes turned to stone, dead and lifeless. “Jules, don’t embarrass yourself any further,” he said slowly like I was a child being lectured. “Just accept it. You and me.” He pushed my hands off him. “It’s over.”
It’s over. Two words like twin swords, piercing me through the heart. “You… You don’t mean that.”
“This was fun. But I’m bored now. I…I want someone else.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to make me give up on you. I won’t give up on you.”
“I’m not yours to fight for anymore.” He swallowed hard, as if his words were only half chewed. “I’m going to marry Rosaline.”
Rosaline. An image of his arm around her flashed through my mind. Bitter hot jealousy tore ragged edges along my veins. This could not be happening. This could not be his decision. “Your father,” I blurted out as realization struck me. “Is your father making you marry her?”
“I’m marrying her because I want to.”
“You can’t… You… You don’t love her.” Was I trying to convince him? Or me?
His lip curled up in a scowl. “Why? You thought that I loved you?” His cruel words were knives, each one aiming to be my death blow.
I inhaled sharply, my eyes filling with tears, my heart fluttering like a dying butterfly, hanging on to the thinnest silk thread of hope. “Please. Don’t do this, Roman.”
“It’s already been done. The date is set. Six weeks from now. Don’t expect an invitation.”
My heart crumpled in on itself. Shock gave way to raw, agonizing pain. I felt my body trembling, shattering apart. He had given up. My prediction, our fate, my worst nightmare had come to life.
Fuck him for giving up. I would not give him the satisfaction of watching me fall to pieces. I would not let him see me cry. “Get out.”
His mask crumpled. He didn’t really want this, I could see it underneath his peeled back edges. He had already decided that he would never be good enough to be loved. I’d lost him the moment I’d met him.
“Jules…” his voice, suddenly soft, was little comfort. He reached out for me. How dare he try and soothe the wounds he made?
If he touched me I’d fall apart. I’d give in. I’d beg him to stay. I could not bear to beg him.
“Get out and don’t ever come back,” I screamed, my voice breaking as anguish tightened its clawed fist around my neck, letting just enough air in to keep me mercilessly alive.
He drew back his hand. I got to keep what little pride I had left. He looked like he had many more things to say. He didn’t give voice to them. He walked quietly to my door and I turned my back on him; I couldn’t bear to watch him leave.
Then he was gone.
* * *
Hanging in the Stars
____________
Sienna Blake
The finale to the Dark Romeo trilogy…
Roman and Julianna are rocketing towards a fiery end. But it’s not over until it’s over. Betrayals will be revealed. The twisted truth will come to light. Nothing is what it seems.
Can Roman and Julianna find a way to be together or will Shakespeare’s curse befall our star-crossed lovers.
Inspired by Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, this is a retelling for mature audiences. Don’t enter the Underworld if you’re scared of the dark.
____________
“…my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date”
____________
~ Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare
Act I, Scene IV
1
____________
Julianna
Roman Tyrell may have ended things with me, but I felt as if he’d died. Or perhaps it was easier for me to think of him that way. If he was dead, there was no hope left for us. Hope kept me hanging on to a sunken ship even as it pulled me under.
I still dreamed that he would slip into my open bedroo
m window.
I still felt his eyes on me when I was awake.
Sometimes I thought I caught his scent on the breeze.
Despite my grief, the cruel world just kept turning. The sun kept rising and falling. The waxing and waning of the moon marked the passing of weeks. Other people found love, got married, had babies. Other people hugged their families: mothers, fathers, husbands at the end of their work day. My pain remained motionless, a crystalized ball in my chest while I stayed numb around it.
I shouldn’t mourn a man who admitted he’d killed another. Even if it was to protect me. I shouldn’t want a man who broke another man’s neck in front of me. Even if it was to stop me from being raped.
I shouldn’t.
But I did.
Roman had only done what I’d secretly wished to do. To wield a sword of justice. To play judge and executioner to the scumbags who escaped punishment. No one was any worse off with them gone. They had deserved it. Nobody could ever convince me otherwise. I had held the hand of too many victims, heard the broken sobs of too many of the victims’ families, watched too many shattered souls trying to rebuild their lives again after being destroyed.
So, no. I didn’t mourn the scumbags that he’d killed. Knowing about Roman’s involvement didn’t make me want him any less. The truth was, I had fallen in love with Roman Tyrell and I didn’t know how to crawl out of love. Every time it felt like I had made progress, I would be reminded of him and I’d slide right back down. It was an irreversible love. An unbreakable love. Completely unconditional. Beautiful and terrible all at once.
The leaves began to turn. The nights became colder, cold enough to need blankets on my bed. I kept a brave face on. Lacey occupied my lunchtimes at the station. Espo kept driving me to and from work. My father took to eating dinner at my apartment several times a week. On weekends, Nora sat on my couch and tried to coax me to come out to the markets and the movies. Sometimes I went, just to keep up the front that I was okay. Mostly, I didn’t and we just stayed in nursing cups of tea while she chatted animatedly, being content to let me stay silent. I was surrounded by people who cared about me. Still, I managed to feel like a ghost. I walked through my days chasing distractions, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d misplaced something important.