by Sienna Blake
“My brother and I,” I began, “…it’s complicated.”
“It always is with family.”
“Do you have brothers? Sisters?” I asked.
“No. It’s just me and my father now.”
“And as the only child, the weight of family expectations falls right on your pretty little shoulders.”
“Indeed,” she said quietly.
12
____________
Julianna
I wanted to change the subject off my father. I wasn’t uncomfortable talking about him. I was uncomfortable that Roman seemed to understand too much. This strange intimacy was unnerving. It went against every logical thought of how close I could feel to a man who was practically a stranger, how connected I should feel to a man I’d only just met.
I found that small puckered scar on his shoulder and ran my finger over it. “What’s this?”
For a second it seemed a flash of something dark went across his eyes. Then it was gone. “It’s a scar.”
I almost rolled my eyes. “Obviously. How did you get it?”
He said nothing.
“It looks like…” I frowned as I leaned in closer. The shape, round with a slight crater, the size of a penny. I’d seen it before. I’d seen it before at work. “Is that...a bullet wound?”
Roman grabbed my hand and pulled it off his scar. He didn’t seem to like me touching it. “It’s nothing.”
Nothing?
I stared at him. His face was totally closed off, his gaze avoiding mine. Except now I could see a glimpse of the darkness that simmered under the surface. It didn’t really come as a shock to me. I’d sensed it even from the moment we met.
I opened my mouth to ask him more. A ringing cut me off. Roman grabbed his phone from above his head and pressed a button, cutting it off.
“My alarm,” he explained, his voice sounding strained. “It’s seven. I have to be at the airport by eight. My ride will be here in ten minutes.”
I nodded and forced myself to pull away from him. I felt so cold and empty at the thought of never seeing him again. I stood and turned, walking back to the bedroom where my clothes were waiting. They had arrived freshly laundered hours ago. By then neither of us mentioned my leaving early.
Roman called my name. I didn’t stop or turn to acknowledge him. I was struggling with a sudden flood of emotion, unexpected in its intensity. This was unfair. Why did I have to meet him, to glimpse the kind of intimacy and closeness I could have, only to have him disappear out of my life forever?
Roman and I dressed side by side, the silence growing thicker. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him as he pulled on jeans over his hard body. I tried to memorize the lines of his beautiful torso before he shrugged on a button up shirt over it. Even putting on clothes he was mesmerizing. I leaned against the drawers as he pulled out a duffel bag, still half packed, and threw a few more things in.
“You pack light.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying.”
That stung. I turned away to slip on my other heel. “Of course, you weren’t.” How stupid are you, Julianna? Did you expect him to stay in Verona for you after one night?
I felt his hand on my arm. He turned me to face him. When I glanced up his features were drawn and dark. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“But you have to. Right?”
“Right.” He paused, then licked his lips, lips that I would miss like crazy. Lips that gave me soul-consuming, brain-dizzying kisses that I would, from this day forward, compare all other kisses to. His eyes shone with a sudden light. “Come with me.”
This took me by such surprise that I laughed out loud. “Sure,” I joked. “I’ll call in sick to work and skip town.”
“I’m serious.” His features grew hard and set.
I blinked. “What?”
“Come with me right now. We could go to Paris. You told me you’ve always wanted to see it.” I had, earlier when we’d been talking about the things we’d always wanted to do but never done. “There are always spare seats in first class.”
Paris? First class? Right now? I’d never even left the country, let alone traveled in an airplane first class.
“I don’t have anything with me,” I said weakly.
“I’ll buy you whatever you need. We can stop by your place, pick up your passport.”
“What about your studies? What about London?”
“They’re not going anywhere.” He shrugged. “I take time off all the time.”
I shook my head, unable to believe what he was suggesting. “You’re crazy.”
He grabbed me by the upper arms, searching my face. “But it’s the best kind of crazy.”
“I…” Me, go to Paris with him?
He let out a growl. “Why are you fighting me again? I don’t want this to end yet. Neither do you. Leave Verona with me. I promise, the second that you want to come home I’ll have you on the next flight back, no questions asked. Let’s not say goodbye yet.”
I could. I could leave with him. Take off like I’ve always wanted to.
We’d go to Paris for a long weekend, maybe a week, then what? I’d come back to Verona and he’d go back to London? It would kill me. Letting him leave now was already painful. If I spent another day with him, another two, three…
Better to cut this off at the pass. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
His mouth pinched. “Who said I was giving you a choice?”
I rolled my eyes. “What are you going to do? Carry me over your shoulder onto the plane.”
His eyes flashed with possibility.
Shit. “Why don’t you stay in Verona a bit longer?” I asked, before he got any ideas.
He shook his head, his lip curling. “I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “And I can’t leave.”
He let go of me and stepped back, the cold air rushing in between us like a jolt of reality.
“It was a stupid idea anyway.”
“Roman, please…” I pleaded. I hated that he was angry at me. I hated that we were saying goodbye like this.
His phone beeped. “My ride is here.” Roman slipped it into his pocket and grabbed his duffel bag. He turned to walk out.
“Please don’t leave angry with me,” I said, quietly.
He froze. He glanced over his shoulder and his gaze caught mine. I could see it, the sadness and regret underneath the anger. The same things that were burning inside of me.
For a second I thought he might turn around and walk across the room towards me, closing the distance like I desperately wanted him to do.
“The room has been paid for until tomorrow,” he said.
Then he was gone.
No goodbyes.
No last kiss.
Just gone.
13
____________
Roman
I threw myself into the passenger side and slammed Mercutio’s car door, my duffel dropped at my feet. Weird emotions swirled around inside me. I hated myself for walking out on Julianna the way I did, as if she had meant nothing. But I knew, if I had crossed that room to kiss her one last time the way I’d wanted to, I’d never fucking leave. And I had to leave.
I could feel Mercutio staring at me. He still hadn’t pulled away from the curb. I glared at him. “What?” I snapped.
He snorted. “Hello to you, too, motherfucker. Thanks for making your excuses to everyone last night. You’re the fucking best for picking me up and taking me to the airport.”
I slumped into my seat. “Sorry, Merc,” I said, my voice soft and genuine.
He made a grunting sound and I knew it was his way of accepting my apology. “You look like shit.”
That was him telling me we were okay. “Thanks.”
He pulled away from the curb and into traffic. I sat in silence. I could feel his eyes glancing over to me every few seconds. “Who was s
he anyway?”
I shook my head. “The girl of my dreams, Merc. The girl of my fucking dreams.”
“Seriously?”
“She makes me laugh, she’s so fucking easy to talk to. And the sex…”
“TMI, bro. I don’t need to know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Merc.” I let out a growl. “Every woman before her and after her is going to pale in comparison.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Does this mean you’re only fucking dudes from now on?”
I punched him in the arm, causing him to swerve. The car next to us beeped loudly.
Merc cursed and straightened the car. “Shit, you know I’d support you even if you did fuck dudes. Wouldn’t be into it, but I’d still love you, man.”
“I’m not turning gay,” I muttered. “Maybe joining the fucking priesthood.”
Merc laughed. Until he glanced over at me. I was furious. Furious at life for dealing me the family I had. Furious at my father for being the tyrant that he was. Furious at my brother for dying, causing the spotlight to shine firmly onto me, meaning that I had to get away from Verona, now more than ever. Most of all I was furious at myself for walking away from Julianna.
“Jesus,” Merc said, “you’re really cut up about this girl.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“She’s really that perfect.”
“More than perfect.”
“And you’re letting her get away?”
“I asked her to come with me. Offered her a ticket to Paris…” I gritted my teeth. That’s what really fucking hurt. I was alone in feeling like our connection was worth pursuing until the wheels fell off.
“And she said no.”
“She said no. Just like you. Both of you bitches. I’m not good enough for either of you to leave this piece of shit city. Even if I pay for it.”
“Roman…”
I growled. “Yeah, I know. You have your fucking reasons.” Mercutio may have grown up with me, but his family was not well off like mine. Mercutio had refused to get involved in the “life”. He was too proud to take a handout from me. He worked a steady job in IT after taking night classes while working a menial job at a factory. He refused to let me help him out with money. He’d always said, he’d come visit me in Europe when he could afford to pay for his own damn ticket. Proud fucker. I loved him like a brother.
I stared out the window, watching the city flash past me. Verona was like an old prison, the buildings its bars, blackened with soot and mold, barely letting the light seep down to the crumbling streets. The alleyways were in a constant haze from all the white smoke puffing out of open exhausts, and the pipes webbing across the sides of buildings cracked like joints. This was a place where the rules were harsh and unwritten. Where hidden players held the dice and decent people had no idea that they were merely sheep in a valley of wolves.
The next time I came back, it’d be for my father’s funeral.
Once I got to London I had to figure out what to do with myself. Maybe, get a job at the boxing gym I’d attended for the last eight years. Learn how to save and shit. I couldn’t keep living off my father’s allowance. Especially now.
“So…” Merc’s voice broke into my thoughts, “girl of your dreams, huh? What was her name?”
“Her name’s—”
“Holy fuck.” Mercutio slammed on the brakes. I jerked forward and my seatbelt caught me across the chest. A chorus of beeps blared around us. The car skidded to a halt. A black Escalade had driven across the lane to barricade the road in front of us. Another black SUV blocked the road behind us. The few cars behind us began trickling around us in the farthest lane, slowly. I could feel their eyes and curiosity peering at the blockage in the road.
My heart began thumping in my chest. Either this was a planned hit from the Veronesis or my father’s men had finally found me. I don’t know which one I feared more.
Of all the times to be without a fucking gun.
“Are you packing, Merc?” I opened the glove compartment and rummaged through it, finding only papers and a small black torch.
“What? Hell no.”
Damn him and his no gun policy. I slammed the compartment shut. The passenger door of the front Escalade opened. A figure stepped out.
Fuck. It was Abel.
Which meant my father was here for me.
I inhaled deeply and cursed my last name. I couldn’t put my father off any longer. It was better to get out of the car and see what he wanted. I was cornered now. I took a deep breath and braced myself to face the dark presence that had been waiting here to catch me.
“Stay here,” I said to Merc. “They want me, not you.”
“I’m coming with—”
“Merc, it’s my father. He won’t hurt me.” At least, I hoped not. “He probably just wants to talk to me.” I hoped. I wouldn’t put anything past my father.
I opened the car door and stepped out.
“Roman,” Merc called.
“Yeah?”
“Call me if you need me, k?”
I nodded, patting my jeans pocket to make sure my phone was with me. Then shut the door so I could face Abel.
They say that you should never judge a book by its cover. With Abel, he was every bit the monster on the inside as on the out. He was a wiry man, a few inches shorter than my six foot two, a scar that ran down from his left ear, down to the corner of his lip, as if he had once been caught in a fish hook and torn away from it. For almost as long as I could remember, he wore black leather gloves so he’d never leave a fingerprint anywhere. It wasn’t his strength or fists you ever had to worry about. It was the various knives he always had in his possession and his ability to wield them like scalpels. And the fact that he had no soul. No remorse. No conscience. He would gut his sister’s baby in front of her if it suited him.
He strode towards me, hatred rolling off him. I stood my ground. If there was one thing my father taught me, never let them see you flinch. If you flinch, you’re dead.
Abel sneered and his scar puckered. “Your father wants you.”
A black limousine rolled up beside us and stopped, the passenger side door by my side. Abel opened the door, holding it wide open for me. “Get in.”
“I have a plane to catch.”
Abel pulled out a gun and cocked the weapon, pointing the black barrel at my head. I had no doubt he’d shoot given half the chance. “Get. In.”
14
____________
Julianna
I stepped in through my front door and dropped my keys into the bowl on the side table.
“Where the hell have you been?” a voice behind me demanded, making me jump. A tiny figure stood in my doorway, hands on hips.
“Nora.” I let out a breath of relief, stepping aside to let her in. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.”
I walked towards my kitchen for a glass of water. She swatted my ass as I passed her.
“Ow. What was that for?”
“That was for making me worry when you didn’t come home last night.”
I stiffened. “How did you know I didn’t come home last night?”
She gave me a look. “Firstly, I waited up for you so long here that I fell asleep on your couch. I wanted to tell you about my date.”
“Oh.”
“And secondly,” she waved her finger at my tight black dress, the one that I had been wearing for almost twenty-four hours, “that is a walk of shame outfit if I ever saw one.”
“Nora! How do you even know what a walk of shame is? Wait…wait. I don’t want to know.”
She snorted. “Please, I might be old but I’m not dead.”
I turned back to my glass of water, hoping to avoid all further conversation.
When I didn’t answer, she swatted me again, making me hiss. “And that is for making me wait to get all the dirty details.”
I rubbed my ass, glaring at her. “Remind me to get my spare keys from you.”
“Don’t change the subjec
t. Who was he and how good was he in bed?” A wide toothy grin spread across her face.
I felt my cheeks heat up as the memories of the last twenty-four hours assaulted my mind.
Nora’s grin grew wider. “Dear Lord, the man has made you speechless. Tell me everything. Did you meet him out somewhere?”
“Well…not exactly.”
“Through a friend?”
“No.”
She let out a huff. “So? Where’d you met him?”
“Um, at Mom’s?”
Nora’s mouth dropped open. “Are you actually telling me that you picked up a guy at the cemetery?”
I winced. “No. He asked me out.”
“So, you allowed yourself to be picked up by some guy you met at a graveyard?”
“Kinda?”
“I knew it. You,” she waggled her finger at me, “are a closet freak.”
“What? I am not.”
“Freaky deacky leather squeaky.”
I laughed, mostly out of embarrassment. I was not having this conversation with a woman who was old enough to be my grandmother. “It’s not like that.”
“Did you make out with him at the cemetery?”
“Ew, Nora, we were at a cemetery.”
“Didn’t stop you from thinking about it, did it?”
I had more than thought about it. I remembered how Roman had pressed his finger to his mouth in a shushing motion, drawing my eyes to his lips. Those perfect lips, the most beautiful lips I had ever seen on a man. I had wanted to pull them against my mouth and taste them. I had wanted it with a fierceness that had taken my breath away.
“I knew it.” Nora was grinning at me, her head nodding slightly. “I could see it all over your face.”
I didn’t bother denying it. I gulped down water, trying to quell the heat rising up my body.
“Did you sleep with him?”
I choked, spluttering water everywhere. “Nora!” I admonished, my cheeks flushing red-hot as images of the last twenty-four hours with him—his skin, his tongue, his body—washed over me.
“Oh my lolly gobble bliss bomb! You did sleep with him!” she screamed.