The Scent of Roses: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Romeo Book 2) Read online

  Two of them were flashing wild grins as they scanned the crowd, barely noticing me. The third one, however, was staring at me. I suddenly felt naked. I wrapped an arm across my waist, not that it would stop him from seeing me.

  I chanced a glance at him again—still staring. My gaze landed on the familiar scar that came out from under his mask. It was Scarface. Abel Montero. The Tyrell butcher. The man who’d been chasing Roman through the graveyard. The same man who had forced Roman into his father’s limo at gunpoint. The one who almost caught me at Roman’s apartment. My blood froze. I tore my eyes away from his probing ones. I had to stay calm. Don’t react. Don’t panic.

  I tried to look bored. I tried to look for a waiter with more champagne just for something to do with my hands. Or for my nerves. Of course, there were none to be found when I needed them. I found Roman watching me, then glancing at Abel, a furrow between his brows the only thing betraying his anxiety.

  One of the other men clasped Roman on the shoulder. “We got some shit to talk about. Some shipments—”

  “This is not the time, Benvolio,” Roman growled. “Talk to me later.” He waved at the group of ladies dressed in slinky minidresses standing to one side who were looking our way. “Go keep them company for me.” Right. They’d been the ones he had been standing with before he came over to me. That’s why they were batting their eyelashes at him and glaring at me like they wanted to murder me.

  Benvolio looked over to them, his chin dipping as he gave them an exaggerated once-over. He whistled. “Dayum. If you don’t want them, I’ll have them.”

  “Dude,” one of his friends said, shoving Benvolio aside. “Plenty to share.”

  “No way. Dibs on them all.”

  Roman snorted as the two grinners sauntered across the room. Then he called out after them, “You’re just keeping them occupied until I get back.”

  Roman’s words stung, reminding me that I wasn’t wanted here. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong with him. I swallowed the hurt down and forced myself not to react.

  “You look familiar,” Abel said. He hadn’t moved. His gaze hadn’t left mine.

  My skin broke out in a cold rash. I was about to be exposed. And it was all my fault. I didn’t dare look at Roman.

  Abel took a slow, measured step towards me. I fought the urge to turn and run. “Who are you?” he asked. His fingers twitched as if he was thinking about snatching my mask off.

  If he exposed me I would be in serious trouble. I had no weapon with me. I had no backup. He couldn’t harm me here. Not in front of all these witnesses. He had to take me somewhere quieter to do that. I couldn’t let him take me.

  I already knew where the exits were; I had noted them all when I walked in, a force of habit. I readied myself to run.

  Roman stepped between us, his wide back like a shield. “Run along, dog, and stop bothering the pretty lady. You’re ruining the mood by showing her your face.”

  Abel snarled at Roman. I tensed as I watched the two of them glare at each other, aggression rolling off both. This was a pressure cooker and it was about to blow. I had to do something. Anything.

  I touched his arm. “Roman,” I said in a Russian accent. I almost cringed at how fake it sounded. God knows where that came from. “It iz too beautiful a night for fighting. Besidez, blood vill ruin zis dress.”

  Roman spun slightly to look at me over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at me, the hint of amusement on his lips. “You heard Natassia,” he said to Abel.

  Natassia? Right, the Russian floozy that I was pretending to be.

  “Natassia?” Abel peered at me over Roman’s shoulder.

  “An old friend from Europe who’s in town to visit. Now scram.”

  Abel studied me, suspicion clouding his eyes. “Sure. Natassia. Enjoy your stay in Verona.”

  I sniffed and turned my head away from him, a dismissal. I felt his one last searing look before he disappeared into the crowd.

  I let out a long breath of relief. Roman’s face twisted into a scowl. “Are you happy? You almost got yourself killed.” He grabbed me and began to tug me across the room. I pulled against him. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re dancing with me.”

  Bossy arrogant brute. “You know, most men would ask a lady if she’d like a dance.”

  “Last time I checked you liked it when I told you what to do.” He yanked me flush against his chest, securing me there with a possessive arm around my back. His fingers felt like they were searing through my dress.

  The memory of our night together flashed before my eyes, flooding my body with heat. I shivered as he laced the fingers of his other hand through mine. He began to move to the music, a slow house instrumental with a mix of Caribbean drums and brassy saxophones. I resisted for a second before I gave in to it.

  Of course the bastard could dance.

  Damn, he smelled good, too good, his familiar dark cedar perfume surrounding me. I resisted the urge to lean my head against his chest, to press closer, to melt against him as we swayed to the music.

  “You have some nerve coming here,” he hissed in my ear.

  “I wanted to talk to you.” To see you again. To hear your voice. These things I could not voice. Admitting I wanted to talk to him was enough.

  “Talk. You have my full attention.” He spun us farther away from the crowd and closer to the far edge of the tiny dance floor.

  “Let me help you.”

  He tensed but he didn’t miss a beat. “You want to help me? Leave me alone.”

  “You say that, but I don’t think you mean it. If you really did, why do you keep finding reasons to contact me?”

  He let out a short laugh. “Why do you women always read too much into everything?”

  I flinched at his insinuation.

  “I ask you to come to Paris and you think it’s a relationship. I hide you from Abel and you think I’m protecting you. I send you a rose and it means I’m in l—” he broke off.

  “You trusted me once. Trust me again.”

  “Why do you care?” he muttered.

  “The same reason you do,” I whispered, taking a gamble.

  He faltered and missed a step. I stumbled into him. Our eyes locked. For a second, I saw the flash of hope underneath. For a second, I thought I’d gotten through to him. Then the emotionless mask slammed down over his features. A second later he caught up to the music and we were moving again like nothing had happened.

  “This is a setup,” he said, his voice frosty like ice.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “You know me, Roman.”

  He snorted. The music changed, growing faster, more aggressive. His movements followed and my dress whipped out around my ankles. “Yes, I know all about you. Newly assigned detective. First major case. You want to get out of your father’s shadow. You need so desperately to prove yourself.”

  I flinched as his words found their mark, the sore spots deep inside me. “How do you know…?” Someone had been talking about me to him.

  He dipped me. I felt weightless for a mere second, complete trust in the strong arms holding me up. I gasped as his other hand rested flat against my stomach then ran up between my breasts. My body broke out in a prickly heat. I fought a groan as his hand brushed the bare sensitive skin above my plunging neckline. My nipples tightened and pushed painfully against the material.

  His hand gripped around my neck firmly and pulled me up against him, keeping his grip around my neck. The heat in my body turned liquid and trickled between my legs. His eyes burned into me. My gaze dropped to his mouth. Closer. Closer, and…

  He sneered. “I always make sure I know exactly who I’m up against.”

  His words stabbed me in the heart. I shoved him but he wouldn’t let me go. All the while he kept twirling us around the dance floor like nothing was wrong. “Is that what you really think? That we’re enemies? That we’re against each other?”

>   His grip on my neck tightened. It didn’t hurt but it was starting to restrict my breathing. “Tell me I’m wrong, detective. Tell me how it could be any other way.”

  “Fuck you, Roman.” I shoved him again. This time he let my neck go. His other arm stayed around me so I didn’t get far enough away from him.

  “You did.” His eyes glittered with a cruel light. “I heard you liked it.”

  I inhaled sharply. I only realized my hand had lashed out when the crack of my palm on his skin rang out and his head jerked to one side. He let go of me completely and cold air rushed up between us. The hum of voices dropped over the music that kept playing. Suddenly I could feel the room’s eyes on me like hyenas closing in.

  Shit. What had I done? I had attacked the Prince of Darkness in his own territory while he was surrounded by his men. I was alone and weaponless. I was an idiot. But he’d made me blind with fury.

  “Grab the bitch,” someone cried. Roman’s men began to push their way through the room toward me from all sides. I was so royally screwed.

  “No!” Roman said, his voice cracking out through the room. Everybody stopped in their tracks. He turned his eyes to me. “It barely tickled.”

  “You can’t let her get away with—”

  “That was her free pass. A gift from me to her. Her last one. Because,” he sneered, “we all know the weaker sex need all the help they can get.”

  There was sniggering and nods from around the room. My skin burned from outrage. Was that what he thought of me? Of all women? That we were weaker? I fought against this bullshit as a female cop. I couldn’t believe I was hearing it from him.

  It’s an act, Julianna. He’s trying to protect you.

  Roman grabbed my arm. “Let me escort you out, Natassia. Make sure you don’t get lost on the way out.” I heard the hidden meaning in his words. If he didn’t walk me out, chances were that one or more of his men would attack me in an attempt to gain favor with him.

  I let him pull me through the crowd, my body gone numb except for the burning around the skin where he touched me. Even though I had slapped him, he still wanted to make sure I got out of here safely. Or maybe he just wanted to protect his dirty little secret. I didn’t know anymore.

  I thought he would leave me at the door, but he paused by the bouncers and instructed, “Nobody leaves until I get back.” They nodded and shielded the doorway with their bodies.

  Until he got back? Roman shoved me into the elevator. On the ground floor, he walked me right out of the building. The night air was crisp and clear. Very few people were strolling around the building, but a short line of cabs waited alongside the grand circular lobby that gave this building an appearance of a luxury hotel.

  I tried to snatch my arm back from him but he wouldn’t let go. It was like a mouse tugging against a tiger. “I don’t need to be escorted to a cab.”

  “Yes, you do.” He let out a grunt of exasperation. “Stop struggling or I will put you over my shoulder.” Again.

  I flinched and fought a shiver as yet another memory assaulted my senses. Stupid, stupid body. Why wouldn’t you stop reacting to this infuriating man? He was frustrating and dangerous and totally off limits. Not to mention gorgeous and powerful, and underneath that gruff exterior I knew there was a caring soul.

  The caring soul shoved me into the back of a cab and slammed the door. He leaned through the front window, startling the driver who looked like he’d been midway through a little nap.

  “Carlos Pinto,” Roman said, tapping the plastic badge stuck against the dashboard. “I know your name, your taxi number. I could get your home address and the names of your family members just like that.” He snapped his thick fingers in the driver’s face.

  “Stop threatening him,” I yelled. Roman needed another slap.

  He stabbed a thick finger towards me. “Shut up and let me keep you alive.”

  I slumped back into the cracked leather seat. The inside of the cab smelled like that fake pine smell.

  Roman turned back to the driver, who was leaning away, pressing himself into the far window. If his window had been open, I bet he would have crawled out just to get as far away from Roman as possible. “See that girl in the back there?” Roman said. “I need you to get her home safely. Don’t go straight there. Circle the block several times, make sure you aren’t being followed. If anything happens to her, I’m coming after you.”

  The driver said nothing. He looked like he was about to pee himself.

  Roman pulled out his wallet and held out a small wad of folded bills to the driver. “That should more than cover it.”

  I sat up. That was way more than the fare would be. There had to be at least four hundred dollars there.

  The taxi driver’s eyes widened, the promise of money—lots of money—suddenly making him brave. He straightened in his seat and took the bills. He almost looked like he wanted to salute Roman. “Yes, sir.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes. When did this man ever not get what he wanted?

  Roman nodded and pulled his body out of the cab. He stood on the curb, his unreadable eyes staring at me through my open window as the cab driver started the engine.

  A lump developed in my throat. “Roman…?” What did I want to say? Thank you? I’m sorry?

  He shook his head slightly. Say nothing.

  The cab pulled away from the curb. I twisted in my seat and watched out the rear window as Roman grew smaller. He didn’t move, he just watched as we drove away, our gazes locked until he disappeared out of sight.

  I slumped back in my seat. What the fuck just happened?

  He saved my life. He made sure I wouldn’t be followed. He does care, despite his protests.

  He let you go, a voice inside me said. He only saved me because he wanted to protect himself. He had all those skimpily dressed ladies to “go back to.” Face it, Jules, he had you. Now you’re not interesting anymore. You’re just a pain in his backside.

  I couldn’t help the sting that this truth caused me.

  6

  ____________

  Julianna

  I kept anticipating a third rose all week. But as the second rose wilted, so did my hopes.

  “Newly assigned detective. First major case. You want to get out of your father’s shadow. You need so desperately to prove yourself.”

  Roman’s words kept echoing through me, sending a fresh wave of hurt every time they did.

  “I always make sure I know exactly who I’m up against.”

  I had tried three times now to convince him I was on his side. Each time I had failed. It was clear he didn’t want my help. It was clear where he thought he stood.

  “That was her free pass. Her last one.”

  He had drawn the line. It was war between us. Next time he would not take my attempts to help him with so much civility. Why the hell couldn’t I give up on him?

  I sank most of my time at work into investigating the Tyrells. Someone had to know something. I called all the sources I’d gathered during my days as a beat cop, asking what they knew about Giovanni Tyrell and the new heir to the Tyrell empire. It seemed when it came to the Tyrells, nobody wanted to talk. I knocked on doors in Little Italy where the body was dumped to see if I could get any more information. More often than not, doors were slammed in my face.

  I went through old case files in which the Tyrells had been lead suspects. I found thirteen unsolved cases of Veronesi men shot through the head, execution style. Same caliber bullets used as the kill shot. Bodies all dumped in various black spots of the city: Little Italy, the industrial estates, washed up downstream in the marshes of Verona River. I compared the slugs but none of them seemed to match each other. The striations, the groove markings on the bullets were all different.

  These were all long shots. And I was running out of long shots.

  We were fresh out of leads. Unless a new piece of evidence came up, there was nothing more for me to do. It seemed it would be the last I would see or hear of Roman
Tyrell. At least until another body showed up.

  I archived Roman’s file, along with the Tyrells’ and Vinnie’s, in the bottom of my drawer at work. If only I could do the same with my thoughts about him.

  I had to stop this. It wasn’t healthy for me to be pining over him. I had to find myself a real boyfriend, one I could actually go out in public with. One who wasn’t the heir to a Mafia kingdom. One whose job it wasn’t for me to bring down.

  Perhaps that’s why I ended up saying yes to dinner with Christian on Saturday night. It was a moment of weakness.

  Christian looked nothing like Roman. With golden hair and classic good looks, Christian was the sunshine to Roman’s shadows. As the son of a prominent businessman, he was a media darling and Verona golden boy. I tried to imagine myself sitting here at Belmont, the only Michelin star restaurant in Verona, with Roman instead of Christian. I almost laughed at my own pathetic stupidity. I had to stop thinking about Roman. I had to stop comparing every single thing about him and Christian.

  I forced a smile and nodded as Christian spoke at length about his new job in the mayor’s office, his political prospects and how he hoped to run for mayor of Verona one day. I stifled a yawn behind my hand that was holding a dessert spoon, but I could see from the furrow in Christian’s brows that he had noticed it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not you. It’s this case that’s been bugging me. I haven’t been sleeping well.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. I had left out that it was my prime suspect that was bothering me and causing me to lose sleep. Nothing to do with the case.

  Christian reached over the table, past our shared chocolate fondant that I’d barely touched. He grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. “You work too hard.”

  My body barely reacted to Christian’s touch. No zing. No fireworks. No electricity. I sighed internally. He was a lovely, handsome man who could be good for me. Why couldn’t I bring myself to be interested in him?

  He’s not Roman, a voice inside me said.