Page 44 of From Rome, With Hate

Against my wishes, my heart pounds erratically in my chest. I’m lucky she’s fifteen feet away and can’t tell, too. At least, I don’t think she can.

Considering the anger she had for me this morning, and even when she was eating her sandwich, she seems to have loosened up a bit. That usually happens once we’ve spent more than a few minutes together. It’s why we’ve kept our distance over the years, really only keeping in touch during tax season. Or when we’ve pranked one another in the hopes of getting under the other’s skin.

I narrow my gaze on her as she turns back around to walk forward, grinding my teeth when she pauses and bends down to pick up a small stick.

“I’m not losing my touch.” I clear my throat, tearing my gaze from her round ass.

“So, whatdoyou know?” she asks with her back to me.

I look up at the sky. Despite the distance between us over the past ten years, Julianna knows practically everything: my dad being the head of the Italian mafia, that he was the one whohired the team of men who’d attacked my mother before killing her, that he was in prison after being charged for conspiring and hiring the men who’d done it.

The only fact she doesn’t know is the person who was ultimately responsible for putting him there in the first place.

“I know he’s Italian.” I run my hand down my face before moving it to the back of my neck to massage the tension building at the base of my skull. “And that he’s most likely connected to my family in some way.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He has the same snake tattoo.”

She stops in her tracks, a twig snapping under her foot before she spins around to face me. Pity and sadness fill her soft blue eyes. “If what you’re saying is true, that the people after you are family, then I’m sorry.”

“They feel like I betrayed them,” I offer, shrugging. “I guess I deserve it.”

She tilts her head to the side, the sun catching her gloss-painted lips. It’s the only bit of makeup on her face. “You think they know we’re married?”

I hesitate to give her an answer. She must think I brought up betrayal because they found out I married a Capuleti. Not because I was the one to turn my father over to the feds.

“I’m not sure.” I swallow. “Probably.”

She spins back around and continues her walk, this time turning right halfway down the length of the field. The cabin is in a distance to my right. I eye it, keeping my attention on the gun tucked into my slacks, just in case. Marcus isn’t due back until tomorrow. I told him that, considering how long it would take him to gather all the items Julianna requested, he could stay in the city and head back here tomorrow.

“You don’t seem to know a lot, Rome,” Julianna points out.

“Give me a break, Lark.” I groan. “This literally all happened in the past twenty-four hours.”

“I thought you said the attack was two weeks ago.”

“It was.” I blow a frustrated, impatient breath through my nose. “The threatening phone call was yesterday.”

“Huh.” I picture her twisting her mouth in thought. Fuck, why am I thinking about her mouth?

“What?” I ask, knowing she’s clearly thinking something she’s afraid to say out loud.

“I was just going to say I was surprised you haven’t figured out who it was yet, since you’re the son of New York’s largest crime syndicate.”

“I gave that up a long time ago. You know that.”

Her black top is short, revealing a slither of her body to me. The tips of her fingers press into the soft, supple flesh of her waist.

“Was that the truth, then?”

“Was what the truth?”

“When you told me you never wanted a role in the family business?”

This time, I stop walking.

She takes a few steps before turning around, realizing I’m no longer following.