Page 21 of From Rome, With Hate

“Now?” I raise my brows, realizing Rome is serious. “You want to cash in on your debt now? Here?”

“Yes.”

“No.” I shrug a shoulder and take another sip of my drink. With my white fuzzy jacket hanging off my shoulders, I leave Rome behind to push my way through the crowd.

The DJ set up on the far stage switches to an upbeat song. I raise my free arm in the air, hoping to not lose my drink on my way over to the dance floor. Strobe lights flash across the crowd, and I start swaying my hips and beating my head to the rhythm, getting lost in the music.

Yes. This is exactly what I need. I can return to my regular life tomorrow. Back to my office at my interior design firm. Back to socializing with my best friends while being the version of methey know. The bubbly, no nonsense Julianna Capuleti everyone loves.

Despite my persistence to let go of my past self creeping in, I’m still fully aware of Rome’s presence. I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my back.

Slipping between fellow dancers, I hope to leave them behind. I dance and dance until my world spins out of control. I dance with women, with men, and by the time my drink is empty, I stumble back over to the bar, hoping not to twist my ankle on the way. Once I’ve made my way to the outer fringes of the crowd, I stop long enough to adjust my bodycon dress. The fabric has ridden up my thighs, sticking to my sweaty skin. I fix it and realize I need another drink. I’m hoping the bartender isn’t nearly as busy this time.

My hopes are squashed when I look up and see Rome standing in front of me.

“I was hoping you’d left,” I shout at him, stepping around his tall frame.

“I told you it was time to cash in your debt.”

I raise my chin in defiance. “I don’t have to do what you tell me to.”

“There are papers that say otherwise.” He turns search aimlessly through the crowd.

Asshole can’t even look me in the eye when he says it. Well, the feeling is mutual.

“I told you I wasn’t doing this.” I motion him back when I head toward the exit and stumble past the bar = toward the front door, weaving in and out of everyone the best I can. I use the wall to steady myself and am met with city air once I push through the door with force.

I’m only two blocks from my apartment. Thank God.

I turn in the direction of home, when I hear his voice behind me. If I wasn’t drunk, I probably could outpace him. Dammit.

“Why must you make everything difficult?”

I stop in my tracks, the toe of my chunky heel scraping against the pavement before I cross my arms and spin around.

“Me make everything difficult?” I ask, incredulously. “You’re the one showing up out of nowhere to claim your debt. You won’t even let me get a moment’s worth of peace.”

The corner of his mouth curls with a smirk. I can’t describe the feeling it gives me. No, I take that back, I can. It’s the same fucking contradiction of emotions I get every time I’m in the presence of Rome Montgomery.

“You’re in luck then, Lark. I’m here to give you your peace.”

“You will never let me have peace.” I roll my eyes. “Even if you wanted to, you can’t. Too much shit has happened.”

“Then, at least let me try with this.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

I look around, even peering on either side of Rome. City pedestrians move past us as if we don’t exist. No one or nothing stands out. At least nothing I can see, anyway. I’m really drunk.

“What are you wanting me to do right this moment? You’re by yourself. Seems like this can wait until I’ve had some sleep and an aspirin.” I wave him off, spinning around again. “Call me tomorrow and let me know where we need to meet.”

A loud yelp climbs out of my throat when I’m suddenly swept up. The pavement disappears beneath my feet until I’m upside down and staring at it, surrounded by a curtain of my hair.

“Put me down.” My stomach wobbles as I slam my fists against Rome’s back. “I’m not doing this fucking debt thing right now. I’ve had four martinis and nothing to eat.”

“You’re batshit crazy if you think I’d let you walk home alone in this state, anyway.”

His arm is wrapped around the back of my thighs, and I’m fairly certain my bare ass is on display for all of Park Avenue to see. I try without success to reach behind and cover myself.

“With how much you hate me, you should just let me go.”