Page 10 of Romeo

My body flushes at the thought, but I immediately dismiss it. I don’t know much about Romeo other than he has some sort of stake in Martin and my brother’s death, and he lives in a freaking mansion with armed security guards. A man like that doesn’t busy himself taking care of damsels in distress. I’m sure he got whatever he needed and told one of his presumably dozens of staff members to find a room to stick me in.

Still, I can’t help but close my eyes and breathe in the remnants of his sandalwood and spice scent. It clings to me and calms me in a way I don’t understand.

My stomach makes an angry sound, alerting me that I haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. I’m not sure what to do with myself or if I’m welcome here anymore. For all I know, I fell asleep in Romeo’s office and he put me somewhere until I woke up and he could kick me out.

Something tells me he isn’t like that, however. If he wanted me gone, he wouldn’t have offered his protection, right? And he wouldn’t take me deeper into his opulent home and let me dirty up his pristine furniture.

Speaking of…

I groan as my fingers attempt to comb through my knotted hair. I’m suddenly aware of every grain of dirt resting on my skin, every particle of dust and grime, and every salty tear that has dried on my face over the last day and a half.

Springing from the bed, I’m terrified of leaving traces of myself and my mess on the expensive bedding. I notice an en suite bathroom and make my way over there, pausing when I see several outfits laid out on a couch across the room.

I’m drawn to the pastel colors and soft-looking material of a cozy-looking sweater, and my fingers brush over the fabric in a barely there touch. Out of curiosity, I examine the tag, surprised to find it’s my size. My eyes drift to the rest of the clothes, and I’m shocked to see a variety of shirts, dresses, pajamas, and even a coat, all in my size.

There’s a beautiful gift bag with pink tissue paper sticking out of the top, and I can’t help but peek inside. My eyes go wide when I see all kinds of silk and lace panties and bras. With heated cheeks, I examine their tags, my face turning fuchsia when I realize that these, too, are all my size.

Romeo mentioned that he’d get me a coat when he saw I didn’t have one, but I assumed he meant he’d lend me one of his old ones or something. The coat is sapphire blue and filled with down feathers. The hood is removable and lined with fur, and it’s the softest, warmest, most expensive thing anyone has ever given me.

As for the rest of the clothes? I had no idea the man was going to order a whole new wardrobe for me. Is he expecting me to pay him back? He has to know I don’t have any money.

My stomach growls more insistently this time, and I quickly decide to shower and throw on some of my new clothes. If I’m going to be indebted to Romeo forever, I might as well look good while doing it.

Twenty minutes later, I feel human again. I haven’t had a hot shower in longer than I can remember. The shower in my apartment was lukewarm at best, and that only lasted for the first five minutes. Don’t even get me started on the satiny body wash and delicate floral shampoo and conditioner. I don’t think my hair has ever been this shiny or my skin this smooth. I also had no idea how scratchy my cotton blend shirt and ancient jeans were until slipping into a pair of fitted leggings and the cashmere sweater I was first drawn to.

I’ve learned that good things don’t last long for me, so I plan to enjoy this slice of the high life.

After slipping on a pair of thick wool socks, I open the door enough to poke my head through. The hallway stretches endlessly to the left and right, so I pick a direction and start walking. Passing numerous closed doors, I wonder how many rooms this place has and what Romeo does with them all.

Eventually, I find a staircase. Placing a trembling hand on the dark wood of the railing, I descend, following my hunger as it hopefully leads me to the kitchen.

A few moments later, I wander through what appears to be a study of sorts and then a dining room. On the other side is a door leading to a massive kitchen with high-tech, restaurant-grade appliances.

No one is in sight, which I appreciate. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to stay in my room, but my hunger won out in the end. Surely Romeo will understand. Eyeing up the fridge, I decide against it, not wanting to use the microwave or oven to heat anything.

“Bingo,” I say to myself when I spot what I hope is a pantry.

I make my way over to find some crackers or cereal or something.Like everything in this house, the pantry is huge and well-stocked. It’s nearly as big as my room upstairs and filled with enough food to feed an army.

I’m busy scanning the shelves for something to grab and take upstairs when a door across the hallway swings open and slams against the wall. Gasping, I hold my breath and stand completely still, praying that whoever it is doesn’t come into the kitchen.

“Jesus, Armando. Take it easy,” comes Romeo’s deep voice.

“Sorry, boss,” comes the reply. “Don’t know my own strength.”

Romeo grunts, and then another man speaks up.

“Are you clear on your mission?” he clips out.

“Yes, Dante. Same as every mission,” Armando answers. “Crack some skulls, get some names, and further the Di Salvo reign.”

Di Salvo.That sounds familiar, but where have I heard it before?

“Smart ass,” Dante mutters.

“Emphasis on smart. Only the best for Romeo Di Salvo, right, boss?”

Boss.It’s not that strange, I suppose, but it’s the second time Armando has referred to Romeo as boss. I’m on the verge of putting the pieces of a very confounding puzzle together, but I don’t have the original picture to work from.

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