Page 7 of Romeo

Part of me knows it’s not a gunshot, though it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that noise. But I’m hanging on to my sanity by a dangerously thin thread, and I’ve just been told I have powerful enemies looking for me.

I’m shocked when Romeo kneels in front of me, his index finger hooking under my chin and tilting my face toward his. Deep brown eyes search mine as he strokes my throat in a barely there touch. “We don’t have much time. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to trust me,bella.”

I watch his lips form the last word, and my heart stutters in my chest at the almost reverent tone he uses.

He’s right. I know he’s right, yet this tiny studio apartment is all I have left. Something tells me that once I leave, I’ll never be back.

“We both know you’re not safe here,” Romeo says, holding out his hand for me to take.

“But I’ll be s-safe with you?” I whisper, tripping over my words.

“I will protect you with my life,” he vows, those dark brown eyes latching onto mine as he clenches his jaw.

Everything about this man is severe, from his chiseled physique to his intense stare. I have no choice but to believe him. I peer up at the man who holds my life in his hands, then slide my palm against his and let him help me up. Romeo keeps his fingers wrapped around my hand, his gaze giving nothing away.

One thought keeps replaying in my mind;Did I jump out of the frying pan right into the fire?

CHAPTERFOUR

ROMEO

Her touch ruins me. Her soft skin and tender trust cast a spell over me, and I have a hard time letting go of this angel once she’s standing on her own.

Green eyes filled with vulnerability blink up at me, and I struggle to take a full breath. What is this woman doing to me? Why do I have the sudden urge to burn the whole fucking world to the ground if it meant she never had to shed another tear?

Focus, I reprimand myself.

Ripping my gaze from Thalia, I take a step back, shuddering at the chill running down my spine. I find I don’t like it when I’m not touching her in some way, but I can’t dwell on that. First, I need to get her to safety. Then I need to find out what she knows.

As for the rest of my insanely possessive thoughts? I’ll shove them down into the depths of my blood-stained soul. Pretty young women like Thalia don’t belong in my world. There’s no place for infatuation, especially for the fucking king of the underworld.

I know all too well what happens to the unlucky mafioso bastards who get trapped with a woman. My parents were a prime example. They must have been in love once, but by the time I came into the picture, that love was replaced with cold shoulders, formalities, and a life of luxury to make up for a lack of affection.

I wipe a hand down my face, snapping myself out of whatever dark place I was in. None of that matters, and I’m not sure why I’m thinking about it now.

“Pack a bag,” I tell Thalia, my tone brooking no arguments.

She searches around the small space, presumably for a duffel bag, while I peer out the living room window and check the surroundings. I haven’t forgotten about the enforcer for the Colombos, but I also know he’s likely taking his time to plan Thalia’s torture to ensure he gets the answers he wants.

The thought of that motherfucker putting his filthy hands on Thalia makes something in me break loose. A snarl rumbles up from deep in my chest, but I cover it with a cough as best I can.

“Hurry,” I grunt, needing to get this woman out of here before I lose my shit and hunt down our enemy’s enforcer. I would do it in a heartbeat with no regrets, but that would make things more complicated and dangerous for Thalia. Apparently, my new goal in life is to make sure she’s never in harm’s way again.

Glancing over at the confounding woman making me feel all sorts of uncomfortable things, I notice she has a garbage bag clutched in one hand and is shoveling in all kinds of yarn, hooks, bobbles, and craft things I don’t recognize.

“Are you making your own clothes?” I say before I can stop myself.

I shouldn’t care what she brings with her. I promised her protection in exchange for information, but I was planning on placing her in a safe house with a few of my men guarding her. I have a contact in the real estate business who helps me find vacant properties for such occasions.

But that doesn’t sit right with me anymore, though I’m not letting myself think about why. It can’t be jealousy. Preposterous.

“Just concealing my weapons,” she says over her shoulder.

My lips pull into a smirk at her sassy response, and something warm blooms in my chest. I think I’m… am I happy that she’s comfortable enough around me to joke? It makes no sense, but then again, this whole interaction is throwing me for a loop. The sooner I get her out of here, the sooner I can get what I need and figure out what to do with her.

Keep her.

I shake my head at the thought. Impossible. It would never work. I don’t want a relationship, and I sure as fuck don’t need love in my life.

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