Page 59 of From Rome, With Hate

I freeze, mid-shuffle, before I’m pinning Rome with a million and a half invisible daggers through narrowed eyes.

Marcus shifts in his seat, turning to face Rome.

Rome shuts his laptop and sets it down on the table beside his chair, then he sits up, straightening his back. “If you’regoing to call her by her last name, Marcus, you should use the appropriate one.”

Marcus’s head snaps in my direction, but I can’t tear my attention from Rome. I grind my jaw, pressure building behind my eyes as I hold my breath, unable to look at Rome without wanting to tear him apart.

My fingers tighten around the cards, bending them in half.

Rome gives me a knowing smirk.

“Marcus can call me whatever he wants.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken more than one word to Rome since that night in the bathroom.

The air in the room immediately grows thick with tension. It’s hot and suffocating. Marcus simply turns back, training his gaze on the cards still in my hand, but I don’t return to my task of shuffling. I grip them even tighter, staring at Rome in silence.

The dam is breaking. I feel it in my chest. A wall fracturing against the pressure. I hate how angry he makes me feel, yet I want nothing more than to cross this room and crash my mouth to his. I want him to rip the clothes from my body and sink his fingers deep inside me. I want his hand on my neck and his cock tearing an orgasm through me. I want him to demand I scream his name, all while fucking me.

At this point, I wouldn’t care if Marcus were in the house, let alone this room.

How is it that the angrier I get with Rome, the more I want him?

I’m fucking crazy. Certifiably insane. This is why it’s best to avoid him.

Rome exhales a heavy breath and looks at Marcus. “I’ll need you to go into the city today,” he states, as if the past few minutes haven’t happened. As if he wasn’t demanding Marcus call me by my married name—one I technically never legally changed my name to.

Asshole.

“Of course, Mr. Montgomery.” Marcus pulls himself to a stand, gripping the top of his thigh halfway up. He’s no longer using the cane, which is a good sign, but apparently, he’s still limited in his mobility.

“You could at least ask him nicely,” I mutter, setting the cards down. “Maybe add apleaseat the end.”

I cut Rome a glare.

Blankly staring at me, he snarls, before looking back up at Marcus.

“I need you to go into the city.” He pauses. Clears his throat. “Please.”

I give him a satisfied grin.

Marcus looks down at me, but not in the way I expect. I can see the awkward position I’ve put him in by shoving him in the middle of whatever is going on between Rome and me. He gives me a look before turning back to Rome. “What do you need me to do, sir?”

Rome removes his glasses and tosses them on top of his laptop. He pinches the bridge of his nose before relaxing back in his chair. “I’ll need you to check in on a few of my nightclubs for me. Also, I want you to stop by the police station and see if you can track down the detective who worked on my mother’s case.”

“Wait, what?” I ask Rome, not even caring that I’ve interrupted before Marcus could respond. “Have you found a lead on who is after us?”

Rome’s entire posture stiffens, then he finally looks at me. “Maybe.”

“Why aren’tyougoing?”

He rolls his eyes. “I have other important tasks here demanding my attention.”

I jerk back, my stomach and pussy fluttering at his insinuation. What the hell does that mean? My throat issuddenly as dry as a desert. I swallow thickly as Marcus gives me a sympathetic expression.

“Appears you’ll have to kick my ass at poker after I get back, Mrs. Montgomery.”

Dammit. Rome’s won this one, getting Marcus to call me by my married name.

I give Marcus a closed-mouth smile, as though my heart isn’t rattling inside its cage at the sound of another person using it.