Page 76 of From Rome, With Hate

She stares at me, refusing to refute what I’ve said, but I can sense her hesitancy. Her hesitancy to believe anything I’ve been telling her. Looking down at her bare feet, she tucks her hair behind her ear.

When she looks up, her mouth twitches. “Call me crazy, but I’m no longer hungry.”

Then she’s turning and walking up the stairs, taking my heart along with her.

TWENTY-ONE

ROME

Flashback

A golden glow surrounds the treetops bordering the cabin’s property. Standing at the edge of the pond, I watch the sun begin to set behind them.

I’ve probably adjusted the cuffs of my suit a million times, but I need to keep my hands busy.

I didn’t think it was possible to be more nervous or excited than the day I met Julianna in the library for the first time. But fuck, it’s possible. My stomach wobbles with nausea, and a few times I’ve felt the urge to punch something just to get this nervous energy out.

After checking the time on my gold-plated Vacheron Constantin watch, my anxiety picks up. She’s two minutes late. Normally, I wouldn’t be surprised. Julianna notoriously runs on her own schedule, but this is our wedding day. It’s all we’ve talked about for the past two months since I proposed to her on her birthday.

Two days after, I went to the luxury jeweler and bought her the ring she deserved. A rose gold leaflet ring, riddled with tiny little diamonds. Aside from the diamonds, it looked like it couldhave been plucked straight off the set of a Romeo and Juliet production.

Julianna insisted on buying my ring, so I haven’t seen it yet.

We agreed the best place to get married would be my parents’ cabin. It became mine the day I turned eighteen, and it’s been the place Julianna, and I have been able to sneak off to nearly every week since graduation last month. This place is sacred. Ours.

A place where we’ve been free to be ourselves. Free to be together.

I tug my phone from my pocket. There’s a missed call and a voicemail on my phone. I look up at the cabin but don’t see Julianna or Marcus. Figuring either of them should be coming out soon, I click on the voicemail and press my phone to my ear.

“Rome Sebastian Montgomery.” My father’s sinister scolding voice meets my ear, sending a sobering chill down my spine. “I don’t know where the fuck you are, but you’d better think twice if you’re planning on skipping out on the meeting tomorrow. We have a deal with an important client, and if it falls through without you here, you’ll be to blame. You’d better get your fucking act together or else you won’t like the consequences. Call me back.”

The message abruptly ends with a sharp beep.

I press seven to delete the message and drop my phone back into my pocket without a single regret. I shove my hands in my pocket and grind my teeth, forcing in a calming breath. Lifting my chin, I put my father’s message out of my mind and wait for Julianna at the end of the bridge stretching across the pond.

Marcus emerges from the house seconds later. His tablet is clutched under his arm, no doubt with a link to a script for our wedding ceremony.

When I told Marcus about our engagement, he didn’t waste a single ounce of energy trying to stop me. He knew that,despite our differences and family’s vendettas, I loved her. So, when we needed someone to perform the ceremony, Marcus was a no brainer. He signed up to get certified through some internet site. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get our marriage certificate filed through a county in New York that held no ties to the Capuletis or Montgomerys.

The closer he gets, the more nervous I grow. Five minutes ago, he offered to go check on Julianna to make sure she was ready. I offered to go, but, you know, the superstition. Groom can’t see the bride until the ceremony. I called bullshit on that one, but who was I to argue with Julianna or Marcus.

I’m still sick as I watch Marcus. His expression isn’t one I’m expecting for someone about to perform a wedding.

“Everything okay?” I ask him, swallowing the bile climbing up my throat. “Where’s Julianna?”

He finishes walking down the sloped portion of the grass before stopping. “She’s upstairs in your bedroom.”

“Okay.” I adjust my tie. Must keep these hands busy. “She isn’t getting cold feet, is she?”

Fuck, I don’t know if I want his answer. No. Who am I kidding? Of course I do.

“No. No cold feet.” Marcus snorts, shaking his head. “But she did ask to speak with you.”

“Fuck.” I run my hand over my mouth. “She wants to speak to me before our wedding, and you’re trying to convince me she isn’t wanting to back out?”

“Relax, Mr. Montgomery.” He clamps a hand over my shoulder. “I asked her if she wanted to stop this, and she assured me she didn’t. I believe her. She just needs to tell you something beforehand.”

A wave of relief washes over me. I blow out a heavy exhale.