Page 6 of From Rome, With Hate

“Meeting in secret. Hating one another. Tossing petty insults at one another.” His mouth twitches. “Never changes, does it?”

“You can’t change what’s in your blood, Montgomery. Neither can I.” My eyes sting with tears, and the urge to get away from Rome as quickly as possible is the only thing keeping me from unraveling in front of him. I inhale an unsteady, shaky breath, and leave him standing in the alley, knowing it won’t be the last time I see him.

It never is.

TWO

ROME

This is it. One last time.

I repeat the words over and over in my mind, willing them to be true. To my own peril, too, because I can’t seem to keep my own fucking word. And the price I’ve paid time and time again for not following through will eventually lead to the death of me.

But sometimes, when I’m staring down the risk of death, I welcome it with open arms.

Especially when I’m standing face to face with a five-foot six-inch brunette with searing blue eyes. Ones that have driven me mad my whole life. And not mad in the good, fun way. More of a certifiably insane way.

Her signature scent of patchouli and vanilla lingers, surrounding me like a heavy, dark cloud. The way her body tensed when I stepped closer, reminding her the cycle will never end—the one where we hate each other to our fucking core—drives me as fucking crazy as it does her.

A sweet, sadistic torture neither of us will ever escape.

Fucking hell. Focus, Rome.

I stay plastered to the wall in the shadows of the darkened hallway while I survey the wedding guests, eventually spotting Kingsten Capuleti far too close for my liking. Julianna had apoint earlier. He wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in my head if he saw me here, or anywhere else he considers Capuleti territory. If only he knew the number of times I’ve crossed the line and that this hotel is anything but Capuleti territory.

But that’s what I’ve always done—crossed a million lines a million different times.

Tonight is a prime example of what’s risky and dangerous. This room is filled with every single one of my family’s enemies—ones who won’t hesitate to take me out.

My attention is stolen again the moment Julianna emerges from the bathroom on the far side of the ballroom. Her silky, sage green dress hugs all her curves, and I can’t help the venomous chuckle that tickles my throat knowing it’s probably killing her to be wearing something so domestic. I’m surprised she hasn’t paired it with an obnoxious feather boa or a bright ass, blinding colored accessory.

She glides effortlessly across the ballroom, constantly tossing her eyes over her shoulders. Probably hoping to find the fucking asshole who flirted with her earlier.

Fire burns in my veins as she weaves her way through the ornately, floral-decorated tables and chairs, until she finds her best friends sitting at a table on the far end. She bends down, bringing her mouth to their ears. Once they give her a nod and a smile, she leaves them and heads toward the other side of the ballroom. On her way, she passes one of the bar stations. The bartender is busy tending to one of the wedding guests, his back turned as Julianna swipes a full bottle of champagne from the container of ice set on top of the bar. When she realizes the bartender hasn’t noticed her taking the first bottle, she swipes another before disappearing down the hallway toward the elevators that lead to the hotel rooms on the upper levels.

I let out a scoff, unsurprised.

I’ve considered every possible option available to me to cash in the debt she owes me for nearly destroying my reputation with her petty, anonymous little article. Once she’d confessed it was her who’d written it, I realized deep down that I already knew. Julianna thinks she’s clever, but she isn’t. She’s a snake disguised as a delicate bird. Exhibit A is the way her hips sway beneath her silk dress as she carries two stolen bottles of champagne up to her hotel room.

Every scenario I could use against her comes up flat and unsatisfying, though. I need something I know will end this petty tit for tat we’ve danced for years—one that will give me the satisfaction I’ve craved for years. The satisfaction in knowing I’m responsible for her undoing. Perhaps I’m naïve for believing it will ever orcouldever end.

Julianna Rosaline Capuleti will forever be a thorn in my side. I guess me hanging this debt over her head is my sick way of returning the favor. It’s fucked up, but I can’t help the delight I feel knowing I’m driving her fucking crazy. Seeing how deep I can burrow under her skin lights a fire in my chest and makes my dick grow hard.

Shit, I need to stop focusing on Julianna. She can spend the night wallowing with her two bottles of champagne for all I care.

I head to the front lobby, hoping she’s gone by the time I get there. The more distance between us, the easier it becomes to erase her from my thoughts. I keep my head low, hoping not to catch the attention of the wedding guests still littering the hotel. Thankfully, there aren’t too many Capuletis in this hallway. They’re all back in the ballroom getting wasted, not realizing how close they’re dancing to the enemy. Still, I’m aware there’s enough here to cause an uproar if one of them caught sight of me.

The Capuletis have been an enemy of my family for generations. No one on either side has been able to explain theexact reason why, but I’ve heard hushed rumors and grumblings of how a Capuleti once had a sordid affair for an already spoken-for Montgomery. The discovery drenched and stained our families with scandal. Although it was centuries ago, I’ve been raised to despise any Capuleti, alive or dead. Especially their designated princess, Julianna Rosaline Capuleti.

Despite the rumored history of betrayal between our two families, I suspect there is more to the story—something to do with the fact Julianna’s father, Kingsten, was mayor of New York City while my father, Dominico, was head of the Italian mafia.

Rival Italian families mix as easily as oil and water.

Once I’m alone in the far corner of the lobby, I pull my phone from my pocket and read a text I received earlier while I was foolishly distracted by Julianna.

Unknown Number: One second late, and the deal is off.

I breathe a heavy, heated sigh through my nostrils and grind my teeth before dropping my phone into my pocket without responding. The asshole can get fucked for thinking I’d risk showing up late when the promise of freedom is imminent with this final deal.