Chapter 6 Julianna
SIX
JULIANNA
“Excuse me?” I raise my finger in the air, trying to flag down the bartender for the hundredth time. My martini glass is bone dry, and my throat is screaming for a refill.
I stamp my heel against the floor, wedging myself further into the line of guests waiting for their refills, too. Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to come here again?
The club is packed, and if it weren’t for the three drinks already swimming on my otherwise empty stomach, I’d probably be deep in regret.
But I’m not. All I can picture is Selene cradling my beautiful nephew.
And him. Him and his stupid face. His stupid face and his stupid neck, covered in thick, black bird wings.
I wonder how many times he’s considered having that tattoo removed, if at all. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Resisting the urge to pull out my phone and tell him I think he should get it removed, I remind myself how bad of an idea it is to talk to him when I’m drunk. Bad things happen when I talk to Rome Montgomery under the influence. I say things I normally keep under lock and key.
I’ve kept my phone snuggly tucked into my purse all night, ignoring all the haunting thoughts threatening to creep in.
When the bartender happens to turn around to fill a glass with ice, my arm shoots in the air again, and I almost punch the man beside me.
“Please,” I beg shamelessly, shouting over the pulsating music. “Another martini, please?”
The bartender gives me a nod, finally acknowledging me. I sag with relief but not without receiving a scowl from the man I nearly smacked.
“Sorry,” I mutter, wincing.
He narrows his gaze before shaking his head and turning away from me.
Great.
I brush off his coldness and sigh with relief again when the bartender finally returns with my drink. I slip him a fifty-dollar bill, not caring how much I’m overpaying for every single drink I’ve had. Taking a sip, I spin around and turn my back on the man who gave me a scowl.
Nearly choking on my martini, I find myself staring at another man with a firm frown.
“Enjoying yourself, Lark?”
I shoot him as many silent daggers as possible. “Not anymore.”
He’s resting his elbow on the edge of the bar, with his signature crooked smile in place. Of course, he would fucking be here, taunting me, haunting me.
Wearing an all-black suit, his shirt is buttoned all the way to the top, with a tie wrapped firmly around his neck.
I may hate Rome, but it’s hard to deny how gorgeous he is.
I hate the way my body betrays me every time I look at him.
For a fraction of a second, my heart leaps at the sight of him, but before it takes hold, I remember all the reasons I despise him.
“How many does that make it?” he asks, eyes darting to the drink in my hand.
“No,” I state with my whole chest, turning away from him to look at the crowd.
“I think you misheard my question. The answer I’m looking for is a number.”
“I meant no,” I tell him, plainly. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what?”
I snap my head back to the left, and my gaze drops to his mouth before I force it back up. I’m too drunk to be talking to Rome. This isn’t safe. I wave my free hand in front of him. “This. You.”
He leans forward, leveling his piercing eyes with mine. “I’m here to cash in my debt, Lark.”
I laugh. It bursts out of me like a fucking dam. A few people surrounding us turn their heads in our direction. Rome pulls back, his firm brows pulling together again. Pressing my hand to my chest, I force myself to catch my breath, noticing how the alcohol is starting to take control.
“Now?” I raise my brows, realizing Rome is serious. “You want to cash in on your debt now? Here?”
“Yes.”
“No.” I shrug a shoulder and take another sip of my drink. With my white fuzzy jacket hanging off my shoulders, I leave Rome behind to push my way through the crowd.
The DJ set up on the far stage switches to an upbeat song. I raise my free arm in the air, hoping to not lose my drink on my way over to the dance floor. Strobe lights flash across the crowd, and I start swaying my hips and beating my head to the rhythm, getting lost in the music.
Yes. This is exactly what I need. I can return to my regular life tomorrow. Back to my office at my interior design firm. Back to socializing with my best friends while being the version of me they know. The bubbly, no nonsense Julianna Capuleti everyone loves.
Despite my persistence to let go of my past self creeping in, I’m still fully aware of Rome’s presence. I can feel his eyes burning a hole through my back.
Slipping between fellow dancers, I hope to leave them behind.
I dance and dance until my world spins out of control.
I dance with women, with men, and by the time my drink is empty, I stumble back over to the bar, hoping not to twist my ankle on the way.
Once I’ve made my way to the outer fringes of the crowd, I stop long enough to adjust my bodycon dress.
The fabric has ridden up my thighs, sticking to my sweaty skin.
I fix it and realize I need another drink.
I’m hoping the bartender isn’t nearly as busy this time.
My hopes are squashed when I look up and see Rome standing in front of me.
“I was hoping you’d left,” I shout at him, stepping around his tall frame.
“I told you it was time to cash in your debt.”
I raise my chin in defiance. “I don’t have to do what you tell me to.”
“There are papers that say otherwise.” He turns search aimlessly through the crowd.
Asshole can’t even look me in the eye when he says it. Well, the feeling is mutual.
“I told you I wasn’t doing this.” I motion him back when I head toward the exit and stumble past the bar = toward the front door, weaving in and out of everyone the best I can. I use the wall to steady myself and am met with city air once I push through the door with force.
I’m only two blocks from my apartment. Thank God.
I turn in the direction of home, when I hear his voice behind me. If I wasn’t drunk, I probably could outpace him. Dammit.
“Why must you make everything difficult?”
I stop in my tracks, the toe of my chunky heel scraping against the pavement before I cross my arms and spin around.
“Me make everything difficult?” I ask, incredulously. “You’re the one showing up out of nowhere to claim your debt. You won’t even let me get a moment’s worth of peace.”
The corner of his mouth curls with a smirk. I can’t describe the feeling it gives me. No, I take that back, I can. It’s the same fucking contradiction of emotions I get every time I’m in the presence of Rome Montgomery.
“You’re in luck then, Lark. I’m here to give you your peace.”
“You will never let me have peace.” I roll my eyes. “Even if you wanted to, you can’t. Too much shit has happened.”
“Then, at least let me try with this.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.
I look around, even peering on either side of Rome. City pedestrians move past us as if we don’t exist. No one or nothing stands out. At least nothing I can see, anyway. I’m really drunk.
“What are you wanting me to do right this moment? You’re by yourself. Seems like this can wait until I’ve had some sleep and an aspirin.” I wave him off, spinning around again. “Call me tomorrow and let me know where we need to meet.”
A loud yelp climbs out of my throat when I’m suddenly swept up. The pavement disappears beneath my feet until I’m upside down and staring at it, surrounded by a curtain of my hair.
“Put me down.” My stomach wobbles as I slam my fists against Rome’s back. “I’m not doing this fucking debt thing right now. I’ve had four martinis and nothing to eat.”
“You’re batshit crazy if you think I’d let you walk home alone in this state, anyway.”
His arm is wrapped around the back of my thighs, and I’m fairly certain my bare ass is on display for all of Park Avenue to see. I try without success to reach behind and cover myself.
“With how much you hate me, you should just let me go.”
“If something happened to you on the walk home, I’d rather not have your death hanging over my head. Last thing I need is your brother and father having another reason to kill me.”
The only energy I have left to respond with is used to blow a raspberry between my lips. I really feel like I’m going to throw up. My head jerks as Rome carries me down the street. When he finally lowers me, I wobble on my feet, reaching out to the black car next to me to stabilize myself.
“Get in the car,” Rome orders.
I blow my loose hair away from my face, sweeping the remaining pieces away with my fingers. My vision is watery, but I can’t say for certain whether it’s from my impending tears or not. Defeat fills my chest. Every time I think I’ve escaped Rome, he shows up again.
“How did you find me?” I ask, mumbling.
“I tracked your phone.”
“Of course you did.” I nod, pressing my lips together, mostly to ward off the bile threatening to rise up.
“Get in the car.”
I take several beats to catch my breath. “Okay.” I sigh, waving the white flag. “I’ll go with you and get this debt over with, but I can’t guarantee I won’t vomit all over your car in the process.”
He smirks as he pulls on the handle to the back passenger door and holds it open for me. “Well, it’s a good thing they’re leather seats. Easy to clean.”
I make sure to give him my deadliest stare before sliding into the backseat. I immediately turn away from him, resting my head against the glass window.
Within seconds of the car pulling away, I’m drifting off to sleep, hoping the nightmares don’t make their usual nightly appearance, which is unlikely, considering one of them is sitting directly beside me.