Page 11 of Romeo

The men shuffle further down the hallway, their voices still raised enough for me to hear.

“I don’t know what you saw in him or why he’s made it so far up the ranks,” the man referred to as Dante says.

“I can hear you, you know,” Armando sing-songs.

“And yet you’re still here and not out doing your job.”

“Enough,” Romeo commands. Silence blankets the entire floor. “Armando, you have your orders. Dante, you know not to question who I bring into the family.”

“Yes, boss,” both men mutter. It’s the last of the conversation I can make out before it fades away completely.

Family. Boss. Di Salvo.

Didn’t Martin accuse my brother of working for the Di Salvos? He made it seem like that would be a fate worse than death, though in the end, death came for him anyway.

The realization of whose house I’m in hits me square in the chest. I grow light-headed, and little dots float in and out of my vision as I place my hands on the shelf in front of me to keep from collapsing to the floor.

Romeo Di Salvo, of the Di Salvo crime family.

A freaking mafia man.

A criminal mastermind.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

The pantry shrinks in size, the walls closing in as my breathing grows shallow. Once again, my world is thrown into chaos, and I don’t know who to trust, if anyone.

I close my eyes and force the panic down, taking a few deep breaths to get the oxygen flowing again. Loosening my grip on the wooden shelf, I stretch my cramped fingers and try to come up with a plan.

First things first. I need to find my way back to my room.

Summoning all of my courage, I slowly open the pantry door and peek around the kitchen, relieved to see the coast is clear. Carefully and quietly, I step out of the pantry and gently close the door before tiptoeing across the room and into the hallway.

I’m almost to the winding staircase when a hand clasps my shoulder from behind and spins me around. Terror rattles through me, and I let out a silent scream as my back is pressed against a wall.

Familiar dark eyes meet mine, and even though I can feel my pulse pounding against the side of my neck, some part of me is comforted by Romeo’s sandalwood scent.

“Spying on me?” he whispers, half of his face cast in shadows.

Romeo lifts his left brow in question, and my eyes are drawn to the scar there. God, this man is all sharp angles and darkness, yet I know down to my very soul he wouldn’t hurt me.

I shake my head no, then gulp as I blink at him. Romeo’s fingertips trace along the neckline of my sweater, making me tremble, though I’m not sure if it’s from fear or anticipation. Every part of me is extra sensitive, seemingly aware of his presence on a molecular level.

“I love this on you,” he says mostly to himself as he continues to run his fingers along the scooped neckline of the shirt I’m wearing. Romeo shakes his head slightly as if remembering to focus. “What exactly did you hear,bella?”

“N-nothing,” I stutter.

Romeo’s brown eyes snap to mine, and a smirk twists one side of his lips. He leans forward, his lips barely grazing the shell of my ear. “You’re a terrible liar, Thalia.”

I automatically tip my head to the side to give him more access, apparently starving for any attention this man is willing to offer. My back arches as he scrapes his stubble against the sensitive skin of my neck, my body rolling forward and seeking contact with his. Romeo lets out a tortured groan, resting both hands on my hips and anchoring me in place while he presses his large frame against me.

“I’ll ask you again,” he hums, the sound low and gravelly in his throat. “What did you hear?”

I squirm under his attention. My hands find his chest and travel up, up, up, studying every chiseled muscle along the way. I have no idea what I’m doing, only that I can’t stop. Spreading out my fingers over the flat of his chest, I peer up at him, my breath catching in my throat when I see the feral look in his eyes.

“J-just your name,” I breathe.

Romeo narrows his eyes at me, letting me know he’s not buying it.

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