I’ve been loved in many different forms in my life. Maybe not many. A few.
The obsessed and possessive love of Sebastian. The mournful but reunited love of my father. And the completely unexpected but perfectly balanced love of Roman.
“Rest in peace, Sebastian,” Roman says quietly.
Just as Jay shovels the first scoop of dirt into the grave, it starts to rain.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Orlando wrecks the literal house—orrather mansion—they live in when he gets back to Spain. Our spy witnesses him tear every piece of furniture to splinters in the living room. He drains two people completely. He kicks everyone out of the house for an entire week, wallowing in solitude.
I see the guilt written all over Roman’s face as we get the daily reports. He blames himself for the havoc Orlando has caused. But there’s nothing he could do. He can’t control Orlando any more than the local weatherperson can control the angry winter winds.
Roman orders constant sweeps of the city for two weeks after the House leaves. There’s always a chance Orlando left a spy behind. For what, we’re not sure, because Orlando has no reason to doubt that all the troublemakers here are dead. But the eyes of Roman’s teams have never been sharper. If Orlando is still watching the city or has sent anyone back, it’s dire that we know.
But our dead people can’t stay dead forever.
After two weeks, we have to come out of hiding. Elena and Mason go back to work in Godfrey Tower. I head into the hospital. Roman reopens the nightclub.
After so much chaos and trial, it’s almost impossible to not be constantly on guard.
But when nothing happens after a month, we start living again.
I have a mountain of paperwork to deal with. Sebastian truly took care of everything. He sent a suicide note to Superintendent Day. He had a forged death certificate sent over the very next day. One came to my address, as well. And so I was able to legally and officially take claim to everything he left me.
It takes a solid month before I don’t cry whenever I think about it all. Before I can walk into the hospital without feeling like I’m the one dying all over again. There are so many memories here, and Sebastian’s presence fills every space. He built this place. This was his dream, and he executed it perfectly.
The man left me an entire hospital.
It’s too much. I don’t need any of his money. I don’t need any of those investment properties. And the income generated by the hospital… I truly had no idea until I had legal claim to look over the books.
I don’t know what charities I’m about to become best friends with, but there’s no way I won’t feel guilty every moment if I just pocket all that money. There’s a lot of hurt in the world, and while money doesn’t fix everything, it sure can help.
I think there will be a lot of kids in foster care that are about to get a sponsor.
With all the demands of the hospital, I realize something. I don’t want to spend every waking moment working. I don’t care for the prestige that comes with my new title. I don’t care to have everyone looking to me as the person in charge. I do not have it in me to shoulder everything required.
So, with the advice from the best lawyers Mason has, I create a board at the hospital. I need help. Lots of it. And after a lengthy and very careful vetting process, I get that arranged. I don’t have to spend my life being a hospital administrator. I will spend a few hours a week making sure things are going smoothly. I want to work about ten hours a week in the emergency room, because I still love it. But the rest of the time is mine.
Things are different now. The supernatural population of Chicago now knows Roman is a literal Royal. They respected him before, but now they look at him with a different kind of fear in their eyes.
The majority of the residents know nothing of my death, Mason’s, or Romans. Elena’s was the only one that was public. The rest were rumors. The Council holds a whole new level of mystique for the general population. How we faked our deaths to the Royal? None of them know, but the rumors are legendary.
They will never know the truth of my curse and my gift. The truth of why Roman’s hair changed from black to white, and why mine matches.
Three months after the House leaves Chicago, Jon extends an invitation for everyone to come over to the Nocturne for midnight brunch. It is the first time we’ve gathered since we got our city back. After three months, we finally feel safe once more.
“You ready?” Roman asks as I open the door to my apartment to find him standing there. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of him. He wears black slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Ready,” I answer with a smile. I take a step forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. His hand snakes around my waist, squeezing me against his body for just a moment. Roman takes my hand and leads me to the elevator, walking backward down the hall, his eyes roving over me.
The moment the doors close us in, Roman tugs me closer. The look in his eyes is heavy, intense. He brings a hand to the side of my face, cradling and lighting a fire in the pit of my stomach.
I lean forward and kiss him. My teeth graze at his lower lip. My hands come to fist in his hair. Roman breathes me in and shifts his kisses to my jaw, then to the side of my neck.
“Every second,” Roman says as his teeth drag over my skin. “Every taste. Every inch. You’re perfect in every flawed way, Juliet. And I’m going to worship you until the end of time.”
His hands grip my hips, and he hoists me right up. He spins, pressing my back against the wall of the elevator, sending it swaying in a slightly terrifying way. But the pleasure of his pressure against my core is enough to know it’s worth it to die yet another death.