Page 15 of Downfall

I blink turning, unaware that a car had even slowed.

She gives me what should be a reassuring smile. Only it’s Sofia Montague. Nothing she does should be reassuring.

I glance around, my mind wondering for a second if this is a trap, a concoction between her and her brother to lure me out and then murder me. But they’d never have guessed I would have been here, on this road, they’d never have guessed I would have walked.

Except the old me would have. The young me. The naïve me.

My gut twists as I realise it. I was reckless. Stupid. Just like before.

“I’m fine.” I say trying to mentally calm my nerves that seem to be spiking more and more.

She frowns glancing at the Christian Dior heels that are definitely not meant for anything other than a light walk between boutiques.

“It’s not a big deal.” She says.

I let out a laugh. It sounds bitter. Bitter and twisted, just like the rest of me.

“Rose…” She begins but I shake my head.

“I’m not getting in a car with you Sofia.” I murmur.

“You’d rather walk?”

“I like walking.”

She glances at my feet again and smirks. “Sure. Whatever. I was just trying to be nice.”

I shake my head again. “I don’t need you to be nice. I don’t need anything from you.”

She lets out a huff like she expected a different outcome from this. “Fine. Walk if you want but there’s no need to be so rude.”

She drives off before I can reply, leaving me in the dusty wake of her tyres.

I grit my teeth trying to ignore the guilt. Trying to ignore all the twisting words in my head. Maybe she was just being nice, maybe she was just offering a lift.

And yet I still can’t believe it. I still won’t believe it.

She’s a Montague. But more than that she’shissister.

Roman

She’s nervous. I shouldn’t find it amusing but I do. We’re in a nondescript car park tucked away where the cameras and prying eyes can’t find us. If I’m honest I’m half astounded that she showed up.

That she didn’t just block my number.

I open the door and she gets in, biting her lip, looking around before she meets my gaze. She looks more innocent tonight. I tilt my head appraising her, seeing her cheeks steadily flush pink as I take my time.

“What?” She half whispers.

I shrug. “You look better like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not all dressed up.”

She raises her eyebrows before looking down at her outfit. She’s in a pair of daisy dukes and a tank top that scoops low enough to give a taste of her perky breasts. She’s done her makeup but it’s less heavy and her hair is up in a ponytail that I’m dying to yank on.

“You look better too.” She replies.

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