Julianna

My training kicked in. I slammed my back up against the front door and grabbed for my gun, my veins flooding with adrenaline.

A firm hand on my forearm stopped me. "Relax, Jules." I heard Roman's voice. A strange sense of relief washed over me.

It took me a second for my mind to catch up. Roman Tyrell had broken into my apartment. I should not be feeling relief. In the dim moonlight streaming in through my living room windows, I could see his wide frame taking up almost my entire vision. Where he was touching me, felt like it was burning.

I found my voice. "Let go of me."

"Only if you promise not to shoot me," he said, his tone light.

"I'm not promising anything." I could smell his familiar masculine cologne of wood and citrus. I hated that I wanted to press my nose into his chest and fist my hands into his shirt. He was a criminal for God sakes.

He chuckled softly into the dark, the noise sending shivers down my spine. "I guess I'll have to take a chance that I'll survive you."

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He let go of me but he didn't step back, leaving me no room to breathe. I was suddenly all too aware that I was standing alone in the dark with Roman Tyrell. My nerve ends felt electrified, as if we were two live wires that would spark if we got any closer. I couldn't be in the dark with him. It was too intimate. Too intense.

I reached out to the side and flicked on the closest light switch. It turned on the living room light, which fell partly into the entryway through the kitchen. Now his handsome features were bathed in light and shadows. Dear God, he was beautiful. And too close. Much too close.

I sank back against the door and realized too late that I had cornered myself. "What are you doing in my apartment?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He stared at me with those intense eyes of midnight fire. "We need to talk."

No, we needed to stay as far away from each other as possible. I swallowed. "How do you even know where I live?"

His perfect lips twitched. "I'm a Tyrell. I have…resources."

Don't forget that this man is a Tyrell. He is dangerous. I should be terrified that he'd found out where I lived and broke into my apartment. For some reason, I wasn't.

I thought back to my lock. I hadn't noticed any pick marks. I couldn't imagine Roman Tyrell bothering to pick a lock. He'd more likely kick the door down. "How did you get in? This is a secure building."

He frowned. "You should get an alarm system. You never know who might be lying in wait for you in your apartment. It's not safe."

I snorted. "This coming from you. You never answered me; how did you get in?"

"You left your bedroom window unlocked."

I blinked at him. "You scaled my building?"

He shrugged. "There's a fire escape out there. It wasn't hard to jump from the fire escape to your window."

I ran my mind over the structure of the side of the building, of the fire escape and my window. I gasped. "You idiot. You could've been killed."

"So you do care about me," he said, his voice softened.

I glared at him. "I don't care about you. I care about how the hell I would explain the body of Roman Tyrell splattered all over my sidewalk. Never mind the paperwork."

He grabbed his chest as if I shot him through the heart. "Ouch. You really know how to wound a guy."

"What the fuck happened at the interview?" I hissed at him. "Was that your idea of a joke?"

"I was as surprised as you were."

"How could you possibly expect me to believe you didn't know who I was?"

"How could I? I haven't been in this damn country for the last eight years. I take it meeting you wasn't some kind of police organized shakedown."

"No. Just a crazy coincidence."

"Fate."

I snorted. "I don't believe in fate."

"How do you explain us?"

Us. Memories slammed through me. His naked body, hard and unyielding, his hands searing into my skin as he gave to me as much as he took.

I shoved these images away. I would not allow myself to lose my head around him. I could not.

My body betrayed me. My nipples were painful pebbles against the material of my shirt. I was sure my cheeks were flushed and my pupils dilated. All of these things I hoped he couldn't see.

"There is no us," I hissed at him.

"Don't tell me you don't feel?—"

"I feel nothing."

"You're lying," he said, his dark eyes probing my face. "Don't tell me that if I pressed you up against your door and kissed you right now, you could push me away."

I sucked in a breath as my panties flooded with wet heat. "You…you wouldn't."

His gaze burned into me and aggression rolled off him. He inched forward, his muscles tensing as if he was fighting to hold back from making good on his threat.

My own body tensed as my mind warred with my body. I wanted him. Even though I knew who he was, my body begged for his touch. I hungered for him to slam me against this door and to do his worst.

He might have killed someone, Julianna! a voice inside me screamed.

I had known from the minute I'd met him there was something dangerous about him. But he wasn't a killer. Right?

"Did you do it?" I blurted out.

"Do what?"

"Kidnap Vinnie. Torture him."

"I already told you, no."

"Off the record." I swallowed, hard. "I need to know… Did you?"

He didn't so much as flinch. "I never touched him," he said, his voice flat.

I didn't think he was lying but there was something off about his response. "Tell me you didn't press a gun to his temple and pull the trigger."

His eyes narrowed. "Like I said, I never touchedhim."

Why did I want to believe him?

"Julianna," he said, his voice rolling around my name as if he was caressing it. "I'm not?—"

"You lied to me. You told me your name was Roman Lettiere."

His shoulders fell. "Lettiere was my mother's maiden name. I always felt more like a Lettiere than a Tyrell."

"You still lied to me. Why should I believe anything you say?" I wasn't ready to believe him. Even though, deep down I wanted to.

"Because you know me, Jules." He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight that it bordered on painful. "Look past the last name I was given."

I yanked against him but he wouldn't release me. "Let go of me."

"You know me."

I scowled at him. "You're a prime suspect in my active murder investigation. As far as anyone else is concerned, I don't know you."

"You didn't tell them about us?" The word us came out like a breathy whisper and the word slithered down my spine, unleashing a series of unwanted images through my mind: his hands on my hips, his mouth claiming mine, his beautiful cock sliding into my aching core. My clit throbbed.

I swallowed and tried to wrestle control back from my mutinous body. "No. I didn't tell anyone."

"Good." He let out a huge breath. He was relieved.

"Don't worry, I don't want to be associated with you either," I snapped, a stab of hurt embedding in my stomach. "My career is not worth ruining for you."

He frowned. "I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about… If my father found out that you and I…" His mouth snapped shut. What was he about to say? "You're better off not telling anyone about us."

Us? That word was like a taunt. There is nous, I wanted to yell. "Why didn't you tell me who you were?" I demanded, pent up betrayal finally surfacing. "Why did you lie to me and tell me your last name was Lettiere?"

"I didn't want you to look at me the way you're looking at me now."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like I'm a criminal. Like someone to avoid." He sounded almost sad. "Some girls… it turns them on. They like the danger of being with a Tyrell. I knew you weren't like that."

Wasn't I? Being here with him right now was pretty damn dangerous but I was still, for some screwed up reason, turned the hell on.

He stepped closer. "Don't tell me you would have come with me if you knew I was a Tyrell."

"Of course I wouldn't have gone with you. Do you think I like being in this position? Having to lie to my partner, to my superiors, to my father?"

"No, I don't suppose you do," he said, his voice turning hard.

"It was a mistake," I blurted out. "It shouldn't have happened."

"A mistake," he said, his voice laced with anger. "Yes, I suppose it was."

"You also shouldn't have lied about not having a girlfriend."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Rosaline came to the station today to corroborate your alibi, or should I say, to lie for you. She seemed to think differently about your relationship."

Something dark crossed his face. "Rosaline has this idea of us that doesn't match reality."

"And yet you still called on her when you needed help," I spat out. "Did you tell her it was me?"

"Of course not."

"I questioned her. She knew everything we did when we were together. You told her everything."

"Are you mad because she lied," he spoke in a low voice, "or are you angry because I shared what was ours with her?"

My heart stabbed. "I'm angry that you put me in this position. I know that a witness is lying to me but I can do nothing about it."

He pursed his lips, then a look of amusement lightened his face. "You're jealous."

I stiffened. "I am not."

He leaned his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the door. His nose brushed alongside my neck. "I can smell it rolling off you."

I gulped at the air, trying to get enough breath into my lungs. My mind was short-circuiting with him so close.

"Why are you jealous, Jules? Tell me."

I had to make him stop. I could feel my willpower wavering as his heat rolled off him. Any second now I'd give in and lift my mouth to his lips, now running along my cheekbone, causing shivers to cascade through my body.

I shoved him back and he stepped out of my space. "Leave. Now."

"I'm not done talking."

"I am." I snatched my gun from my hip holster and raised it to point at him. "Get out."

He raised his hands in surrender, his face smoothing out into that mask I'd first seen in the interrogation room. He took a step towards me. I sidestepped around giving him the space he needed, keeping my gun trained on him. I didn't trust myself without it.

He opened the door and paused in the doorway, turning to face me once more. "Thank you," he said, his voice hard as steel.

"What for?"

He stared at the barrel of my gun, then up at me.

"For reminding me which side I'm on."