Julianna

Ikept anticipating a third rose all week. But as the second rose wilted, so did my hopes.

"Newly assigned detective. First major case. You want to get out of your father's shadow. You need so desperately to prove yourself."

Roman's words kept echoing through me, sending a fresh wave of hurt every time they did.

"I always make sure I know exactly who I'm up against."

I had tried three times now to convince him I was on his side. Each time I had failed. It was clear he didn't want my help. It was clear where he thought he stood.

"That was her free pass. Her last one."

He had drawn the line. It was war between us. Next time he would not take my attempts to help him with so much civility. Why the hell couldn't I give up on him?

I sank most of my time at work into investigating the Tyrells. Someone had to know something. I called all the sources I'd gathered during my days as a beat cop, asking what they knew about Giovanni Tyrell and the new heir to the Tyrell empire. It seemed when it came to the Tyrells, nobody wanted to talk. I knocked on doors in Little Italy where the body was dumped to see if I could get any more information. More often than not, doors were slammed in my face.

I went through old case files in which the Tyrells had been lead suspects. I found thirteen unsolved cases of Veronesi men shot through the head, execution style. Same caliber bullets used as the kill shot. Bodies all dumped in various black spots of the city: Little Italy, the industrial estates, washed up downstream in the marshes of Verona River. I compared the slugs but none of them seemed to match each other. The striations, the groove markings on the bullets were all different.

These were all long shots. And I was running out of long shots.

We were fresh out of leads. Unless a new piece of evidence came up, there was nothing more for me to do. It seemed it would be the last I would see or hear of Roman Tyrell. At least until another body showed up.

I archived Roman's file, along with the Tyrells' and Vinnie's, in the bottom of my drawer at work. If only I could do the same with my thoughts about him.

I had to stop this. It wasn't healthy for me to be pining over him. I had to find myself a real boyfriend, one I could actually go out in public with. One who wasn't the heir to a Mafia kingdom. One whose job it wasn't for me to bring down.

Perhaps that's why I ended up saying yes to dinner with Christian on Saturday night. It was a moment of weakness.

Christian looked nothing like Roman. With golden hair and classic good looks, Christian was the sunshine to Roman's shadows. As the son of a prominent businessman, he was a media darling and Verona golden boy. I tried to imagine myself sitting here at Belmont, the only Michelin star restaurant in Verona, with Roman instead of Christian. I almost laughed at my own pathetic stupidity. I had to stop thinking about Roman. I had to stop comparing every single thing about him and Christian.

I forced a smile and nodded as Christian spoke at length about his new job in the mayor's office, his political prospects and how he hoped to run for mayor of Verona one day. I stifled a yawn behind my hand that was holding a dessert spoon, but I could see from the furrow in Christian's brows that he had noticed it.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not you. It's this case that's been bugging me. I haven't been sleeping well." That wasn't exactly a lie. I had left out that it was my prime suspect that was bothering me and causing me to lose sleep. Nothing to do with the case.

Christian reached over the table, past our shared chocolate fondant that I'd barely touched. He grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. "You work too hard."

My body barely reacted to Christian's touch. No zing. No fireworks. No electricity. I sighed internally. He was a lovely, handsome man who could be good for me. Why couldn't I bring myself to be interested in him?

He's not Roman, a voice inside me said.

I shoved that thought away, pulling my hand away from Christian's on the pretense of wiping my mouth with my cloth napkin. "I hope you don't mind if we cut tonight short, but I'm exhausted," I said with an apologetic look.

His lips pinched for a second before his expression smoothed over. "Of course. Anything for you."

As he settled the bill I leaned back in my chair and stared out the glass window to my right. The waiter had seated us in a small alcove on a slightly raised platform right at the front of the restaurant, glass encasing us. I felt like I was on display, with the people outside able to see me clearly as they walked past.

My gaze fell upon a figure in the shadows across the street. Roman's watching me. I shivered, my eyes fluttering shut. When I opened them, the figure was gone.

If it had even been him in the first place.

I was an idiot. I was thinking about Roman when I shouldn't be, seeing him where he wasn't. I needed to get over this obsession with him before I did something stupid. Correction: before I did something stupid again.

In the passenger seat of Christian's car, I slumped back and closed my eyes. Christian shut my door behind me and got into the driver's seat, but he didn't start the car.

"Julianna?"

I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. "Yes?"

I could see his face in the dark, shadows filtering across his features. He was handsome, his features classically put together, but for some reason he didn't make my stomach flip when I saw him. Not like it did when I caught sight of a certain dark, dangerous man.

Perhaps I just wanted Roman because I couldn't have him. Because I shouldn't want him.

I brushed that theory away. I had been drawn to Roman from the moment I laid eyes on him. Before I knew who he was.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts, I only realized Christian was leaning in for a kiss when his lips touched mine. For a moment I didn't move because I was too shocked. Then I didn't move because I wasn't sure what I should do. I should kiss him back. I should want to kiss him back. Christian was the sensible choice. He was good for me. Why couldn't I want him like I wanted Roman? Why couldn't my body catch alight at his lips on mine?

Perhaps if I kissed him back, some feelings would arise? I parted my lips for Christian and felt his tongue slip into my mouth. Where was the surge of heat and need? Where was the feeling that I was falling? Flying? That I might stop breathing if he pulled away?

I gently pushed Christian away with my fingers on his chest and the kiss ended.

He gave me a shy smile. "I've been wanting to do that for a while," he admitted before he started the car.

I tried to push away the unease in my stomach. It took several minutes before I could pinpoint what it was that I was feeling. Guilt. I was feeling like I had betrayed Roman by kissing Christian. Well, that was ridiculous. Roman and I were nothing. He made that quite clear the last time I saw him. I didn't owe any loyalty to him. Still, the tightness in my belly wouldn't go away.

* * *

Back at my apartment,I'd barely finished changing into the t-shirt I usually slept in when my phone rang.

Oh shit. It was Roman. Don't answer it!

I answered it and his deep husky voice filled my ears.

"Your date looks like a stiff."

What the fuck? I sat up in bed. He'd been following me?

I thought back to the feeling of being watched at the restaurant. Roman had been outside. It had been him there watching me from the shadows, intruding, unwanted, into a private moment I was having with my date. I should be furious. Instead it sent a thrill rushing through my blood. Stupid body.

"Well, I like him," I lied. "What's not to like? He's handsome, sweet and he doesn't confuse me like some people."

"He doesn't kiss you like I do."

My mind flooded with the memory of Roman's kisses, all night, all over my naked body. I began to sweat in my sheets. My breasts became too sensitive and uncomfortably full. I felt like I'd suddenly developed a fever. And yet, I shivered.

No, I wouldn't play into this. I couldn't.

"He's a great kisser."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying."

"If he was such a great kisser, why did you leave him standing on the sidewalk at the end of the night?"

My skin prickled. Roman had been watching me. He was there outside the restaurant watching Christian kiss me in the car, then watching us again outside my apartment at the end of the night as I avoided a second kiss. He had been following me.

"If you were mine," he spoke in such a quiet voice I almost didn't hear him, "you'd never leave me on the sidewalk."

If you were mine… If I were his…

I could never be his.

I jumped up from my bed, throwing my sheets off me, and ran to my window. I had left it partly open, my curtains pushed to the side to let in the breeze. I could smell the scent of the city: cigarette smoke, car fumes and the hint of hot frying oil from a fast food café down the road.

The street below looked dark. Nothing moved. Was he down there still, watching my window? Or was he on the roof? Peering at me from one of the dark apartments across the street? Could he see me standing here looking for him?

I swear I could feel his eyes on me again. Watching me. The place between my legs that was empty of him throbbed.

"Send me a kiss goodnight, little rabbit."

He was out there in the dark. I stared out, biting my lip, trying to see through into each shadow to the beautiful secret hidden within.

"Where are you?" I whispered, my body buzzing.

"In the dark. A place you shouldn't follow me into."

I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. Oh, but I wanted to…

Send me a kiss goodnight.

I remembered his lips on mine. My eyelids fluttered shut as I lifted a hand up.

I had meant to touch my lips, to blow him a kiss, but on the way up my fingertips brushed across the swell of my breast and I hissed. God, that felt good. I was so sensitive, so ready, my body burning at the knowledge that his eyes were on me.

The darkness behind my eyelids made me bold. I brushed my nipples again. In my ear I heard him moan, the same sweet noise he'd made all that night. He was watching me and he liked what he saw.

Before I knew what I was doing, I slid one hand firmly across my other breast and pinched down on my sensitive nipples the way his teeth had that night. Pleasure and pain rocketed through me. A louder moan slipped out of me.

"What are you doing?" He sounded like he was choking.

What was I doing? I wasn't thinking straight. All the blood had rushed out of my brain. My body thrummed with hot desire making me dizzy.

"Remembering what you did to me," I admitted.

I slipped my hand down my body and into my panties, gasping when I touched my sensitive clit, already slick with wetness.

"Jesus fucking Christ." His breath became heavy in my ear. "If I were there…"

If he were here…

If we could just have one more night together, one more night without being Roman and Julianna. One more night being anything but a Tyrell and a Capulet.

"If I were there," he growled, "you wouldn't need to remember. I'd bury myself so deep inside you, you'd never get me out."

Too late.

I slid my fingers along my wet aching slit, the pleasure running down my legs making them shake.

He let out a low, pained groan into my ear, the vibration of his voice sending tingles through my body, the same way it had when he'd moaned against my wet folds. All sense of decorum fled from my mind as my body trembled with need.

"Fuck," he growled in my ear. "You look so beautiful touching yourself."

The hairs on the back of my neck lifted as his eyes roamed over me from somewhere out there in the dark.

"I wish it were you," I said before thinking.

"Slip your fingers inside your pretty little pussy for me."

He had me under a spell. I did what he commanded without protesting. I let out a moan as I clenched around my fingers as I worked them in and out.

He groaned. "How wet are you, little rabbit?"

"So wet."

"Let me hear it."

My cheeks burned. But I lowered the phone down to my pussy, letting him hear the wet noises I made as I worked myself with my fingers, getting wetter at the thought of him listening to how turned on he made me just by watching me…

I brought the phone back to my ear in time to catch his growl of approval.

"Good girl. How many fingers are you using?" he asked.

"Two," I said, my cheeks heating, wondering if he was close enough to notice my cheeks change color.

"Add another. Spread your pussy open. Fuck yourself for me."

I pushed three fingers in on a loud moan, pretending it was his cock. Pretending it was him pushing me up against his windowsill, taking me hard, spreading me, filling me.

Fuck, I needed him. I needed him more than I needed to breathe right now.

"Oh god, yes," I breathed, my orgasm cresting.

"Come for me."

I came hard, gripping the phone with my other hand as I impaled myself on my fingers, a cry tearing from my lungs.

"Fuck," he hissed in my ear. "You sound so pretty when you scream."

I shuddered and sagged against the windowsill, the night air damp against my sweat-beaded forehead, my chest heaving.

There was a long pause on the other line. Long enough for me to become self-conscious. Oh god. What had I done?

My eyes shot open, searching the darkness below for him, heat rising to my cheeks. "Roman?"

Before the line went dead, I heard him whisper:

"You'll be the death of me."