Page 74 of His Juliet

Today was the day.

I was going to go to the Italian bakery Romeo told me about.

I could be normal, do normal things. I repeated it to myself, hoping it would make me believe it.

I was already trembling when I opened the lobby door and stepped onto the street. For a second, I thought about calling Romeo. Just hearing his voice would ease my anxiety, but we’d barely talked this past week with how busy he was. I was hurt by his silence, but I tried to push it aside. It wasn’t like I could demand he make time for me, but I missed him. I imagined his voice in my head, telling me I was doing a good job as I started walking.

So far, this was my usual walk to work. I could handle this. But the closer I got to the intersection, the worse my hands started shaking. I stopped at the corner, and a wave of dizziness washed over me until I was forced to lean on a trashcan. My skin flashed hot and cold as I dragged in ragged breaths. No one paid me any attention as they skirted around me on the sidewalk, and I was grateful for New Yorkers’ immunity to strange behavior.

I couldn’t handle an audience right now.

Finally, I forced my head up. The bakery was just two blocks in the opposite direction from work. Two blocks out of my safe routine. I imagined Romeo’s face when I told him I’d made it. He was going to be so proud of me. I could practically feel him hugging me as he kissed the top of my head.

It was in that moment I realized I would do almost anything so Romeo would be proud of me. I wanted his arms around me,cravedit.

I straightened up, wrinkling my nose as I realized I had been touching a New York City trashcan—gross—and started walking down the block. My chest was so tight I felt like I was being strangled, but I kept walking.

One block down.

The bakery was in sight. The facade had that unassuming, slightly run-down feel that indicated the food would be amazing.

And then I was standing in front of it. The first new place I’d been in so long. I didn’t know whether I should run, hide, scream, pump my fist, or something else. In the end, I just grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

A warm blanket of sugar washed over me as I stepped inside. I immediately felt at home. There was too much to take in visually, so I kept my eyes fixed on the counter. Everything looked amazing. There were some things I recognized, like cannoli and tiramisu, but they also had different cream-filled croissant-like pastries, something called maritozzi, and an assortment of cookies. The elderly man at the counter smiled at me while he asked for my order and was surprisingly patient with my questions. I wanted all of it. He winked at me as he slipped some extra pastries into my box.

I paid and stepped to the side to wait for the man to finish boxing up my order, and that’s when I saw him. Romeo. He was sitting at a table in the back of the bakery with two other men in suits. I broke out in a huge smile and the weight I’d been carrying in my chest disappeared as I bounced over to him.

My excitement at seeing him made me forget that he was supposed to be out of town. I would regret that lapse.

40

ROMEO

Fuck fuck fuck.

Juliet was here.

The second she walked through the door, my eyes flew to her like my body was specially calibrated to always notice her.

I couldn’t believe she was here. My heart was split open because my Juliet had gone somewherenew,even though it scared the shit out of her. She was so fucking brave. I wanted to leap out of my chair, pick her up, and spin her around. I wanted to buy out the entire bakery in celebration of my girl. I wanted everyone to know how badass she was before telling them all to get out because I wanted her all to myself. She looked so pretty today, too, in the green jumpsuit and matching jacketI’dgotten her, her nose all pink from the cold wind.

But I couldn’t do any of that because I was here doing business with the fucking Serbians. Matteo didn’t want to leave Sofiya home alone with a newborn, and I didn’t blame him. But that meant more idiotic meetings for me. These were dangerous men who couldn’t be trusted around my girl. It would put her at risk if they knew how important she was to me. They could use her as leverage against me, and it would fucking work because I would rather die than see Juliet harmed.

I’d suggested the bakery for our meeting to throw them off kilter—I thought it might get them to let some things slip versus meeting at the office. Now, I regretted everything. Why had I thought it was a good idea to bring them anywhere near where my girl lived? I needed to do better, be better for her, unless I wanted history to repeat itself. The image of my father’s prone corpse flashed before my eyes, and I fisted my hands.

I quickly turned my attention back to the men—Vlad and Dragan. Hopefully Juliet wouldn’t see me, and she’d leave, never having known I was here.

“The thing people understand is these rich idiots will spend almost unlimited amounts of money for Black Market art specifically because it’s Black Market. They want something so exclusive that not only are they the only ones who have it, but no one else could even dream about getting it,” Dragan said.

“No one has a firm hold on the art market in the states right now,” Vlad added. “The Russians have expanded their stronghold over diamonds and other gems. The Yakuza commands parts of the Asian art market. But we have access to the Middle East and Northern Africa. And once we finalize our alliance with the Nigerians, we’ll have access to central Africa as well.”

“We would bring the art in through the New York ports under your control and distribute them through exclusive underground auctions.”

I leaned back in my chair, feigning nonchalance while my heart was pounding out of my chest. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Juliet ordering from Marco at the counter. He might have been close to eighty, but it still made jealousy burn through my chest that he got one of her smiles. My heart ached with how much I missed her.

“And why would we give you access to those trade routes?” I asked. “What do you have to offer us?”

Both men clenched their jaws. The Serbians didn’t have the power of the Italian Mafia, especially not with our new Bratva Alliance, but it was clear they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

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