The Scent of Roses: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Romeo Book 2) Page 13

  “Fuck you for making me wait for you.” He thrust into me in one swift movement, pleasure and a hint of pain shuddering through my body. He didn’t hesitate. There was no pause for me to get used to his size. He fucked me up against the door, the wood vibrating against the frame with every thrust. I felt every inch of his thick cock inside me, dragging against all my sensitive insides, lighting up my body with heat and pleasure. More, more, more, my body cried.

  “Is that all you’ve got,” I said, sneering at him, taunting him, baiting him. My hands dug into his shoulders as I hung on to him.

  His eyes sparkled with hunger. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

  “I doubt it.”

  He gripped my hips and slammed into me, hard and cruel and vicious, his fingers digging into my hips, causing tiny points of pain. I loved every violent stroke. I loved every brutal thrust.

  We were soaring together, high and wild among the stars. From way up here, all the arguments against us seemed like mere power and dust. Roman and I were gods together. Immortal together. Floating among stardust. Spinning new universes with our bodies.

  And when you fall back down to earth, a voice warned, what a pretty tangle of blood and limbs you will make together.

  No matter the consequences, I told myself, this is worth it. He is worth it.

  My body shook as my orgasm built. I bit into his shoulder. He cried out as I drew coppery blood. If it were at all possible, he fucked me harder in response. There were no words left. My head rolled back against the door and my vision went white as a red hot sun exploded inside me. I’m sure I screamed. He kept pumping into me over and over again, feeding my orgasm, shooting his own release into me in hot pulses.

  We slid down to the floor, a sweaty tangle of limbs and raw lips.

  19

  ____________

  Roman

  I remember my father once telling me that my mother was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She was beautiful. But as far as I was concerned, all women had something beautiful about them. How you could pick out one above all the others, I couldn’t understand.

  Until now.

  There was something about Julianna. She just seemed to glow, as if the light inside of her was so strong, so pure, it lit up her skin. I found myself mesmerized by her dainty fingers, the soft curve of her lower back, the hollow at her neck. If God was an artist then she was his masterpiece. The slightly crooked tooth, that tiny freckle on her chest, it was all perfection.

  I loved the teasing, sweet scent of her freshly washed hair, the way her skin gave way under my fingers, the way she threw back her head when she laughed…they were layer upon layer of melodies, all singing to me. She was my siren. My lighthouse.

  She cuddled into the crook of my arm as if she accepted my protection. As if she needed it.

  Mine to protect. This whisper grew and grew inside me until it rang in my soul like a bell and my chest swelled with purpose.

  And yet, a sour knot sat in my gut, a bitter seed taken root. Would she still want my protection if she knew what I’d done? Would she still look at me the same? Could she love a murderer?

  I almost laughed at myself. Stupid boy. Of course she wouldn’t. I was a monster hiding under a façade of a man misunderstood. She had fallen for it.

  I didn’t deserve her. But I was a selfish, selfish man. I would keep her. Hold her tight. For as long as I could. Until the day she figured it out and she ended me.

  20

  ____________

  Julianna

  When I woke up Roman was gone. As if he was never here. As if last night was just a dream, a glorious, wonderful dream broken by the harsh morning light filtering through the edge of my curtains.

  But a dull, empty ache lay between my legs, my nipples tender from his teeth, my ass from his palms. I rolled over to his side and pressed my nose into his pillow. Cedar cologne and man. If I could bottle up that combination, I’d make millions. Memories of last night flashed through my mind, making my body ache all over again.

  My stomach gave an uneasy flutter. Why did he disappear this morning without saying goodbye? Did he regret last night? Did he realize it was stupid for us to risk a relationship?

  Something crinkled as I moved. It was a small note on white paper crushed under my arm.

  Tonight. Make sure no one follows you.

  Underneath was an address. Roman had told me about his mother’s secret apartment. This must be it.

  Tonight. I’d see him again tonight. Butterflies took off in my stomach. I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing. Roman and I. We were really doing this.

  * * *

  Something had been bothering me since my kidnapping attempt two nights ago—had it only been two nights ago? At work, when Espo had gone out for lunch, I opened our arrests database. From Roman’s reaction to the name Goldfish, I suspected that it would be someone who had a reputation in the Verona underworld, likely someone who had a record. I typed in “Goldfish” and hit search.

  I sat back in my chair as I waited for the results, glancing around me at the few officers who were at their desks, nodding at one of them who caught my eye. All of this, my job, my reputation, my career, I was risking being with Roman Tyrell. If we were ever caught…

  I imagined the worst, trying to bathe myself in these stupid risks I was taking, a part of me hoping that these realities would snap me out of the insane decision I had made last night. That I would continue to risk if I went to him tonight.

  Somehow, all these consequences just lapped around me like inconsequential waves. My deep longing for Roman, which began at the very sight of him, had in these last few weeks grown into something…greater. Like a mountain risen out of the sea. I was tied to him like he was to me.

  And where could this relationship possibly ever go, Julianna? spoke a bitter voice inside me. Do you think you’ll marry Roman and have his children? Will both your families be present at your wedding?

  I shoved these thoughts away as my search results came up. I had no answers. A single entry was headed, Tito “Goldfish” Brevio.

  Brevio? I frowned as I clicked it to open the file.

  There was an arrest photo of a man in his mid-fifties, softening skin around his mouth, a few dark freckles on his cheeks. He had an almost bored look as he stared at the camera, his head slightly tilted.

  My blood drained as I read the details of his file. This is why the name sounded so familiar. Goldfish was Mercutio’s father.

  Before he went into hiding, he worked for the Tyrells.

  21

  ____________

  Julianna

  Nobody followed me that night. I made sure of it. I doubled back and went a circuitous way to make sure. I slipped inside a small nondescript building on the edge of downtown Verona.

  What am I doing here? My feet padded on the old worn carpet of the lobby. This was a far cry from Roman’s real apartment. The handler working for the man who tried to kidnap me works for the Tyrells.

  Used to. He might not work for the Tyrells anymore. Think of how surprised Roman was to hear his name. If Giovanni Tyrell was after you, Roman had nothing to do with it.

  Stupid girl. You really are so naïve and foolish.

  I rode the elevator and stepped out onto the landing of the fourth floor before making my way to the faded gray door marked 17, the fluorescent light above me flickering ominously. I was here to confront Roman. I had to look him in the eyes when I told him what I knew. I had to watch his reaction. Then I’d know for sure.

  I knocked. He answered the door within seconds.

  For a moment, he just stared at me from the doorway, relief clear in his eyes. He pulled me into the apartment, locking the door behind us. He wrapped his arms around me, his face burying into my neck. “Fuck, you smell so damn good. I thought I might go mad today wondering if you’d come. I wanted to stay until you woke this morning but…”

  I didn’t move to hug him back. He pulled back, one of his ha
nds pushing back the hair from my face. “What’s wrong?” He searched my face. His own cracked into an icy mask. “You’ve come here to tell me that we are a mistake, haven’t you?”

  “Tito ‘Goldfish’ Brevio,” I said simply.

  Roman tensed against me. “I wanted to tell you…”

  “But you were afraid at how it’d look?” I finished for him.

  He paused. “Yes.”

  “Did you know?” My voice had turned to ice. “Was this some kind of ruse to gain my trust?”

  “No!” he said, his features twisting. “How could you even think…?” His lip curled up. “No, I understand exactly why you would think that. There’s no reason why you should trust me.”

  I let out a small breath of relief. I knew from his reaction, Roman hadn’t been in on it. “Is Tito still working for your father? Am I in danger from your family?”

  His nostrils flared with rage. Before I could back away he grabbed my face in his hands. His touch was firm, bordering on painful. The power in his grip, raw and coiled, triggered a deer-like reaction in me and I froze with a gasp.

  “I will never ever let anyone hurt you, least of all my own fucking family. I would kill them all, my cousins, my brother, even my own damn father, before I let them touch a single hair on your head. Do you understand me?”

  I. Couldn’t. Breathe.

  I could barely think. My mind had gone.

  Fuck, I think even my heart stopped.

  He took a deep, shaky breath. When he spoke again his voice was calmer. “Do you understand me?”

  I nodded. Or at least I thought I did.

  “Words, Julianna. I need to hear them.”

  “Yes,” I croaked out. I had to clear my throat, it had gotten so dry. “I understand.”

  “Good.” His grip relaxed but he didn’t let go of my face. “You don’t need to be scared of me. Ever.”

  “I’m not,” I lied. The truth was, I was scared. I was downright terrified. But not because I might lose my life…

  I was scared I’d lose my heart.

  I was terrified at how hard I seemed to be falling for him, even though it didn’t make any rational, logical sense, and that I just didn’t seem to care about the consequences.

  Most of all, I feared the day that we’d be torn apart.

  “Good,” he said again. On his face was a shadow of a smile.

  His eyes dropped to my mouth. His thumb brushed along my bottom lip. A shiver ran through me, my nipples instantly hardening. How was it possible that one tiny touch from him was enough to fill me with such want? He knew too, the bastard. His eyes glistened with smug hunger as they rolled over my body.

  I felt myself blushing. “Aren’t… Aren’t you going to show me your mother’s apartment?” I had barely registered anything when I came in.

  “Later.” Roman picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist before pressing me up against the door.

  * * *

  “And this?” I picked up a small photo frame made of knobby unbaked clay edged in seashells. It had been broken once into a dozen or so pieces, but it had been glued back together. It framed a photo of a stunning woman and a young boy. I recognized those eyes. This must be Roman when he’d been a boy. And his mother.

  Roman laughed as he came up behind me, snatching the photo frame out of my hands and placing it back on the shelf. He spun me to face him and draped my arms around his neck. “You’re a very curious creature.”

  “Only because you never like to give anything away about yourself. The surest way to stop me from asking questions is to tell me everything.”

  “Never. If I do, you’ll stop being curious about me.”

  “I’ll never stop being curious.”

  His eyes traced down my body. He let out a low growl. “Have I told you how incredible you look wearing just my shirt?”

  I laughed. “Only about a thousand times.”

  “Prepare to hear it a thousand more.” He leaned down to kiss me but I dodged his lips.

  “You still haven’t told me about the seashell frame.”

  He let out a long sigh and wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “I was ten. I made it for my mother using shells that I’d collected from her favorite beach. My brothers teased me for being so sentimental and broke it. I thought she had thrown the pieces away but…she must have hidden it here and glued it back together.”

  “You loved her so much, didn’t you?”

  “But it wasn’t enough.”

  I turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

  Roman’s face cracked, a deep pain flashing in his eyes. “I loved her but I couldn’t stop her from dying.”

  “You couldn’t have done anything, Roman.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand.” It came out a whisper.

  “Understand what?”

  “The newspapers were right. I killed her.”

  22

  ____________

  Julianna

  My breath turned to stone in my windpipe. “What do you mean, you killed her?”

  He rubbed his face and began to turn away.

  I grabbed his arms, forcing him to face me. I could not believe that Roman killed his mother. I couldn’t. “Roman. Tell me. Please?”

  He inhaled sharply and dropped his hand from his face, revealing glassy eyes. “That night she was supposed to sit up on the roof of the house with me. It was our spot. Our thing, to look at stars. She had gotten a call from my father. I knew it was him because she had that look on her face when she got off the phone, tight mouth, unfocused eyes. She told me she had to go somewhere, she wouldn’t tell me why. I was upset that she was ditching me. I had yelled at her that she didn’t love me and slammed my bedroom door in her face. I heard her apologizing through my door, begging me to unlock it, to hug her before she left. But I didn’t and she gave up. I felt like such a shit. So I ran downstairs to catch her before she left.”

  Roman took in a deep breath and let it out audibly. I realized then that I had been holding mine. He sat on the bed, his shoulders slumping, as if the weight of his story was so heavy he could not hold it any longer.

  I sat down next to him, pulled his hand into both of mine and squeezed. I’m here.

  “I heard her muffled scream,” he said, “as I approached the garage. I froze in the doorway. She was in the front seat of her car, struggling with someone in the backseat. He had his hand over her mouth, a knife in his hand.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Did you see his face?”

  He shook his head. “He was wearing a mask. The driver’s door was open, an unlit cigarette fallen on the floor.”

  “Your mother’s cigarette?” I asked.

  He nodded. “She started smoking a few months before. I hated it. She only ever smoked in the car…or when she was out…” he trailed off.

  “Roman, you don’t have to tell me any more.”

  He shook his head. Despite the pain showing through the cracks in his face, I could see that he needed to speak, to finally pull this burden off his shoulders and share it. I waited for him to continue. We sat in silence. We sat so long in silence I thought he would not go on.

  “She must have pressed the cigarette lighter on as soon as she got into the car. She plunged it into the back of her assailant’s hand, burning him. He screamed and let go of her. I remember seeing a red circular burn on the back of his hand. She scrambled out of the car and tripped to the ground. Her eyes locked on mine. She screamed at me to run! Run! All the while I was screaming at myself to...to do something. To stop him. But I couldn’t move.

  “He was too fast. He was suddenly behind her, grabbing her. I still couldn’t move. I just watched as his knife sliced across her neck.”

  “Roman, you didn’t kill her. He did.”

  “I did nothing to stop it.”

  “You were only twelve.”

  “I was old enough.” The pain reflected in Roman’s broken eyes reached into my chest and sq
ueezed at my heart. He looked just like a boy at that moment: lost and scared. I swallowed back my tears. No child should ever, ever have to go through something like that.

  “He sliced her throat and then he dropped her. He just stared at me for a few seconds, black beady eyes from two slits in his mask. Then he ran. Only then did I go to her. But it was too late… Her blood was spreading all around her. Afterwards, I didn’t say a word to the police. I just remembered what my father always said, ‘never to talk to the coppers’. I said nothing. He got away with it.”

  I wanted to tell him not to give up hope. That one day his mother’s murderer would be brought to justice. But it would be a lie. I couldn’t even bring my own mother’s murderer to justice.

  “I loved her so much,” he said, “but it didn’t matter. I couldn’t protect her…”

  So he couldn’t protect me, I filled in what was left unsaid. A missing piece fell into place. This was why Roman kept pushing me away. He was afraid of loving me. He was afraid that he couldn’t protect me. He was afraid that one day he would lose me the same way that he lost his mother.

  I turned back to the seashell frame and traced the faint broken cracks that now seemed so obvious. If only hearts were as easy to fix. “I wished I had known her,” I said.

  He gave me a small smile, the tension slowly lifting as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap. “She would have loved you.”

  I felt a tiny sun glowing in my chest. “You think so?”

  “Yeah. You’re as stubborn as she was.”

  I slapped his arm.

  He let out a soft chuckle. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing. You’re alike in a lot of ways, actually.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re both beautiful, radiant, independent, stubborn. And…” he added quietly, “you care too much for all the wrong men.”