Chapter 18 Savannah #2
"You wouldn't." But even as I say it, I can see in his eyes that he would, that he absolutely would destroy my father and me and anyone else who got in his way.
"Try me." His hand comes up, and I think for a moment he's going to touch my face, but instead his fingers close around my upper arm, gripping hard enough to make me gasp. "You're mine, Savannah. You've always been mine. And I'm not going to let some criminal take what belongs to me."
I can feel his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave marks that will last for days.
But it's not the physical pain that makes something inside me snap—it's the possessiveness in his voice, the casual cruelty, the absolute certainty that he has the right to hurt me because I belong to him.
"Let go of me." My voice is steady now, cold in a way I've never heard it before, not even when I tried to send Romeo away.
"Not until you promise me—"
"Let. Go." I'm seeing him more clearly than I ever have before—not the family friend, not the suitable match, not the man my father chose for me, but the person he actually is. Someone who would threaten my family. Someone who would have me followed. Someone who would put his hands on me in anger.
"You're going to end it with Ciresa," he says again, his grip tightening. "You're going to tell him it's over—"
"I'm not going to marry a man who puts his hands on me." The words come out clear and certain, and I watch his expression change, watch surprise and anger flicker across his face.
"I'm not—this isn't—" He looks down at his hand on my arm like he's surprised to find it there. "You made me do this. You made me—"
"I didn't make you do anything." I'm not backing down now, not letting him twist this into something that's my fault. "You chose to grab me. You chose to threaten me."
"You stupid little girl." Thad's voice is venomous now, all pretense of civility gone. "You stupid, naive little girl playing with fire. Do you have any idea what you've done? What you're throwing away?"
"I haven't thrown anything away." But my voice is shaking, because I know he's right. Loving Romeo means losing everything else—my father's support, my funding, the life I've been scraping to keep little bits of before I’m caged up as Thad’s wife.
"You've thrown away everything!" He's shouting again, his face flushed with rage.
"Your future, your family, your reputation.
For what? For some criminal who's going to use you and discard you the moment he gets bored?
For some obsessive stalker who's been following you around like a lovesick puppy? "
"He's not—"
"He's exactly that!" Thad's grip on my arm tightens even more, and I can feel tears starting to form in my eyes from the pain. "He's a criminal, Savannah. He's dangerous. He's going to destroy you, and you're too infatuated to see it."
"Let go of me." I'm trying to pull away now, break his grip, but he's stronger than I am, and he's not letting go.
"Not until you promise me—"
"I said, let go!" I'm shouting now too, and I push at his chest with my free hand, trying to create space between us.
"You're a whore." The word comes out cold and deliberate, designed to hurt me. "A disappointment. A stupid little girl who's going to regret this for the rest of her life."
And that's when I hear it—the sound of my dorm room door crashing open, and the sound of Romeo's voice, so furious that it makes my blood run cold.
"Get your fucking hands off her."
Thad turns, and I see his expression change from anger to fear, the recognition of danger.
Romeo is standing a foot away, and he looks like something out of a nightmare, his face pale and his eyes dark, his whole body coiled with barely contained violence.
There’s another man behind him, a tall, handsome, dark-haired man I don’t recognize.
His jaw is set, his eyes angry too as he takes in the scene in front of him.
"This is a private conversation," Thad says, but his voice is less certain now, and I can feel his grip on my arm loosening slightly.
"I don't give a fuck what it is." Romeo is moving closer. "I told you to get your hands off her."
"She's my fiancée—"
"She's not your anything." Romeo's eyes drop to where Thad is still holding my arm, and I see something dark and terrible move across his face. "You're hurting her."
“This is none of your business—”
Romeo moves so fast I barely see it, his fist connecting with Thad's face with a sickening crunch that makes my stomach turn over. Thad staggers backward, finally releasing my arm, and I watch blood start pouring from his nose. His hands come up to his face in shock and pain.
"Romeo, stop—" I try to cut in, but he's not listening. He's already moving forward again, grabbing Thad by the front of his expensive suit and slamming him against the wall hard enough to make the pictures rattle.
"You put your hands on her." Romeo's voice is low and dangerous, and I can see the rage in every line of his body. "You hurt her. You threatened her."
"I didn't—" Thad is trying to speak through the blood, trying to defend himself, but Romeo hits him again, this time in the ribs, and I hear something crack. Thad cries out in pain.
"Romeo, please—" I'm moving toward them now, trying to pull Romeo away, but the other man puts his hand on my shoulder, holding me back.
“Don’t get in the way,” he says, his voice flat, and he pushes me behind him.
I can’t stop staring at Romeo as he slams his fist into Thad’s face and ribs again and again.
This is what Romeo is—not just the brilliant student who challenges me intellectually, not just the obsessive lover who can't stay away, but this, too.
Violence and danger, and the willingness to hurt anyone who threatens what's his.
"Romeo." The other man’s voice is calm but firm. "That's enough. You're going to kill him."
Romeo hits Thad one more time, and I hear another crack. Thad makes a sound that's somewhere between a sob and a scream. Then Romeo steps back, breathing hard, his knuckles bloody and his eyes still dark with rage.
Thad slides down the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the paint, and curls into himself on the floor.
His face is a mess—nose clearly broken, one eye already swelling shut, blood covering his expensive shirt and tie.
He's making small, pained sounds with each breath, and I realize with a distant kind of horror that Romeo must have broken his ribs, that he possibly did serious damage.
"If you ever touch her again," Romeo says, his voice deadly calm now, "if you ever threaten her, if you ever even look at her wrong, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
Thad nods, or tries to, the movement making him gasp in pain.
"Get out." Romeo is looking at him with such contempt that I almost feel sorry for Thad—almost feel bad for the man who was just threatening to destroy my family. "Get out of here and don't come back."
The other man moves forward and helps Thad to his feet, supporting him as he stumbles toward the door. Thad looks at me once, and there's something in his eyes—hatred and humiliation and a promise of retribution—that makes my blood run cold.
"You're going to regret this," he says, the words coming out thick and slurred through his broken nose. "Both of you. You're going to regret this for the rest of your lives."
Then he's gone, Luca guiding him out into the hallway, and I'm left alone with Romeo. The dorm suddenly feels too small, too close, full of violence and blood and the smell of fear and rage.
Romeo turns to look at me, and I can see him trying to control himself, trying to push down the violence that's still simmering just beneath the surface. His hands are shaking, his knuckles split and bleeding, and there's blood on his shirt—Thad's blood, I realize with a sick feeling in my stomach.
"Are you okay?" His voice is rough and strained. "Did he hurt you?"
I look down at my arm. I can feel the marks are already starting to darken into bruises. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine." He's moving toward me now, his hands reaching for my arm. I let him take it, as he examines the bruises with a gentleness that's completely at odds with the violence I just witnessed. "He hurt you. He put his hands on you."
"You broke his nose." I'm not sure why I say it. I’m not sure if it's an accusation, or an observation, or something else entirely.
"I broke more than his nose." Romeo's fingers are tracing the bruises on my arm with a light touch. "I broke his ribs."
"You could have killed him."
"I wanted to." He looks up at me, and there's no apology in his eyes, no regret.
"I wanted to kill him for touching you. For threatening you.
For making you afraid." His hands move from my arm to my face, cupping my cheeks with a tenderness that makes my throat tight.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. I'm sorry I let him hurt you. "
"How did you know to come back?"
“I couldn’t—” He pauses. “I know you didn’t want me to. But I just felt—” He breaks off, because he knows there’s no real excuse. But at the moment, I can’t bring myself to care.
If he hadn’t come back, I don’t know what would have happened. I’m glad he’s here, and right now, I just let myself feel that.
Romeo will always be there, will always show up when I need him, will always protect me even when I don't ask him to. Right now, that feels like a relief.
"He knows about us," I whisper. "He's been having me watched. He knows everything."
"I know." Romeo's thumbs are stroking my cheekbones, and I can feel myself leaning into his touch despite everything. "Luca told me. That's part of why I came back. I was afraid he was going to confront you."
"He threatened my father. He said he'd destroy him if I didn't end things with you. He called me a whore." The words come out small and full of hurt, and I hate how much they sting.
"He's wrong." Romeo pulls me closer, and I let him, let myself lean against his chest and breathe in his scent and try to stop shaking.
"He's wrong about everything. You're not a whore.
You're not a disappointment. You're—" He stops, and I can feel his heart hammering against my cheek.
"You're my whole fucking world, Savannah. "
We stand there for a long moment, and I try to process everything that just happened—Thad's threats, Romeo's violence, the bruises on my arm and the blood on the floor and the pregnancy test still waiting on the coffee table.
I slide out of his arms and pick up the test. “I should take this,” I whisper. “I should find out.”
"Not now." Romeo pulls me close again, and I let him, let myself be held and protected. "Not right now. Right now, just let me hold you. Let me make sure you're okay."
So I do. I let him hold me, while the blood on my floor dries and the bruises on my arm darken and the pregnancy test sits waiting.
I let him hold me and I hold him back, and I try not to think about Thad's promise of retribution, about my father's reaction when he finds out, about all the ways this could still fall apart.
Because right now, in this moment, I have Romeo. I have his arms around me and his heart beating against mine and the knowledge that he loves me, that he'll protect me, that he'll fight for me no matter what it costs.
And I no longer know if I want to do anything except accept that, even if it means being with a man who doesn’t always know how to love in the right ways.
He said he wants to learn. To try to be better.
And I want him.