Page 5 of From Rome, With Hate

“You know what?” I raise my hands in the air, palms up. “I don’t want to know.”

“Julianna Capuleti.” He snickers, his sinful eyes narrowing. “Always thinking she’s entitled to anything she wants. Hilarious to assume I would tell you, anyway.”

I harden my gaze and imagine every way possible I could torture this man. I consider starting by stabbing my heel into his toe, then finding that fucking bouquet of roses in the trash bin and shoving them down his throat.

Years ago, I’d been a fucking fool.

The pain he inflicted on me growing up was child’s play compared to the pain he put me through at eighteen. I’d orbited a little too close to the sun, and now the universe is punishing me for the rest of eternity.

“In another world, you could say I have an obligation to know, Rome.”

He frowns, the corners of his mouth creasing in disagreement. He looks down and drags his toe across the pavement before he looks up again and slowly walks toward me. Once he’s towering over me, he steps close enough until my bare back lands against the sharp edges of the brick wall behind me. I beg and plead to whatever is out there that my father or brother don’t come out here now. If they were to see the way Rome and I are interacting in this moment, we’d both be dead before we could draw in another breath.

Rome doesn’t seem to care, though, as he presses his entire body against mine, pinning me to the wall. The shadow I can never run away from.

A dark cloud. A raging storm.

I gasp, forcing my hammering heart to calm the fuck down. The scent of crisp leather and pine fill my nostrils, clouding my judgment. My gaze drops to his mouth, and suddenly I’m remembering all the places it’s been on my body.

At one point in time, he promised me the world, and I fell for it.

I won’t ever make that mistake again.

“Just like I should have the right to know why you were flirting with that asshole friend of the groom’s right?” He sneers, his eyes darkening.

“I’d ask if you’re jealous, but I don’t think you’re capable, because being jealous would mean youactuallyhave feelings.”

“Let me see…” He looks up before looking back down at me. “What number would this be since, you know…? Give me a ballpark.”

I’m ready to explode. I feel my heart beating like one of those timers, strapped to a bomb. “Go to Hell, Rome.”

“If I’m going to Hell, I’m dragging you with me.”

“You already have.”

The heavy silence that follows permeates my skin, digging into my bones. I feel it everywhere. Every sensation I’ve buried for years threatens to rise to the surface.

Fucking Rome Montgomery.

He lets the quiet linger for a beat longer before he finally breaks it, his voice torturously low. “You don’t have an obligation to know shit, Lark.” Lifting his hand, he drags the tip of his finger along my jaw, searing my skin. Strands of black hair hover just above his deep-blue ocean eyes. They pierce mine, staring straight into my soul. “You lost that right a long time ago.”

I inhale as many deep, heavy breaths as I can, aware that they’re labored and painful as I gather the strength to replace the armor he’s managed to dismantle in just the few minutes we’ve been out here.

I bounce off the wall and roll onto my toes, hardening my glare. “I don’t think you want to fall down the rabbit hole of who lost what first.” I’ve been an expert at hiding the pain burieddeep within me. What’s another day? “Besides, I will always have the right until you?—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in, running a hand over his mouth. He steels his chest and clamps his mouth shut—clear tell he’s done with this conversation.

Good. I was done with it long before he walked out here. Pride fills me knowing that I put him in his place, bringing up the one inevitable thing we can never rectify. The consequences of attempting to end what’s left between us are far more dangerous than maintaining the status quo.

“Great.” I ball my hands into fists at my sides. My palms will be scarred at this point. “Now that we’ve had this incredibly productive conversation, can you leave before you ruin my best friend’s wedding by staring down the barrel of my father’s gun?”

Without waiting for his approval, I bump into his shoulder on the way to the door, grinding my teeth so hard I think they’ll crack. But it’s the only thing keeping me from breaking into tears at this point. I tell myself Rome and I have both been fools from the start, but sometimes I wonder if I’ve been the bigger one for thinking I could ever not hate him.

My hand is on the handle of the door to get back inside, but I freeze when Rome’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Shocker, Lark.”

I sigh heavily, turning just enough to peer at him over my shoulder. “What is?”