32. Roman
ROMAN
T here’s a picture I’m staring at of Tyler Bault shaking hands with someone I’ve never seen.
The paper attached to the photo says his name is Brutus Myrddin, and they’re passing something between them, although it isn’t clear what.
I Googled the name, but the only thing that comes up is Brutus’s ties to some ragtag group of criminals called the Badon Hill Gang in Boston.
I want to ask my father, but that would involve me having to face him, and I’m still in the avoidance part of our relationship.
Someone knocks on my front door.
Who the hell is here?
Throwing it open, my arms crossed, I come face to face with Frederick.
“Can I help you?” I cross my arms.
“That depends on several factors, son.” He presses his lips together and glances behind him before facing me again. “Can I come in? This is a delicate situation.”
“Sure.” I move to the side, and he gives me a grim smile, brushing by me and heading to the living room to sit down on the couch.
“Make yourself at home,” I bite out.
He crosses his ankle at his opposite knee, blue and yellow argyle socks peeking from underneath his black pants.
There’s an odd energy about him, one that feels tense and angry.
I don’t sit.
Instead, I lean against the arched doorway, shoulder pressed to the edge. “What’s up?”
He doesn’t look at me. “Do you know how much influence and money it takes to kill a news story these days?”
“Can’t say that I do, no,” I reply.
He hums, nodding, and then he levels me with a look. “What are your intentions with Juliette Calloway?”
I stiffen immediately, my pulse shooting off like a speeding bullet.
“My intentions?” I arch a brow, keeping my tone light even though my body goes rigid. “Not sure I know what you mean.”
“Bullshitter. Just like your father.”
Now he’s just pissing me off.
“Excuse me?” My hands curl into fists.
He stands up, gritting his teeth and smacking a photo down on the coffee table. Slowly, I step forward to grab it, and when I do, my stomach sinks.
Fuck.
It’s a photo of Juliette and me on the side of the building at the Round Table. We aren’t kissing, it’s from when we moved around closer to the front, but still…it’s intimate.
We’re close together—too close—and I’m grinning down at her like she hangs every star in the sky. And she…
Well, she looks like she wants to get fucked, her gaze heated as she stares up at me.
My cock jerks.
Not the time, guy.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, my voice tight.
“I have a friend at The Rosebrook Rag . She gives me all the photos about my clients and their… interests before they run them.” He sniffs, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve. “Answer the question.”
I scoff. “You come into my house and slam down photos, asking me questions?”
He stands, brushing a hand down his suit and glaring at me. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
I grit my teeth and toss the photo back down. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Frederick laughs. “You’ll need to be better at lying when you say that to the press.”
“And you don’t know your place.”
He rears back, his bushy brows rising on his head like he’s surprised, but then his face drops into something dark and menacing. “You don’t scare me, Roman. And I’m not here to threaten you, despite your enthusiastic anger.”
“Then what’s your point, Frederick? I don’t have all day.”
He smirks, glancing around the living space. “In a hurry to get back to all the things your father’s having you do?” His gaze flicks to the manila folder on my table. “You’re being foolish, thinking others won’t catch on to the timing of the graffiti with your arrival in town.”
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “I’m tired. And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m fairly confident that as a Montgomery, I don’t answer to you. In fact, isn’t it the other way around?”
His mouth tightens.
He presses his finger on top of the picture until his nail blanches.
“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, that you don’t know any better.
That you don’t understand the volume of blood that runs in these streets.
I’m also going to run on the assumption that you aren’t trying to fuck Juliette Calloway for sport or some strange payback on your father’s behalf. ”
My stomach twists again at his words, nausea working its way through me. “It isn’t like that.”
He nods, a heavy look drawing down his features. “I’ll ask you again—what are your intentions with Juliette?”
I cock my head and blink at him, my face a blank canvas. But on the inside, my emotions are in turmoil. I have no idea whether he’s using this to his advantage. If he’s planning to take my words, use them against me, keep them in his back pocket as a power play.
“Why do you care?” I ask.
“I’ve known her since she was born.”
And maybe I’m naive, but his words ring true. “How’d you pull that off, anyway? Being both a Calloway and a Montgomery attorney?”
Frederick chuckles quietly, but there’s no real amusement behind it.
“You’d be surprised how far you can get when you know how to shut your mouth and have people sign the right paperwork.
” He meets my gaze. “Loyalty’s a currency in this town, Roman, and the smartest men are the ones who know how to write the fine print. ”
I study him, not sure if I admire his honesty or hate the way he says it; like morality is just a story people tell themselves to feel better.
My jaw tics. “So that’s it, then? You don’t pick a side, you just cash the checks?”
“Let me put it to you like this,” he says. “The town is built on legacy, not law. On whispers, not verdicts. So the Calloways and Montgomerys might be on opposite sides, but they’ve both needed me to keep the game moving.”
He leans back, lacing his fingers in his lap.
“They trust me. Not because I’m loyal, but because I’m useful. My job isn’t to pick a side, it’s to ensure the table stays steady while everyone plays their hand.”
“And if both sides go to war?”
Frederick shrugs. “Then I win either way.”
“I’m not trying to hurt her,” I murmur, my chest feeling heavy. “She’s…different. It’s like the world shifts when I’m next to her.”
“Virtue can easily turn into vice, my boy,” Frederick says.
“Juliette isn’t a weakness , she’s…” I trail off because I don’t know what to say.
She’s everything.
Frederick sighs and lowers his voice, like he’s telling me a secret.
“Like I said, I’ve known Juliette since she was born.
I’ve been to her birthdays, and I’ve seen her stumble and fall and pick herself back up more times that I can count.
I’ve seen everyone in her life use her for their gain, while she takes nothing for herself.
So speak plainly to me about the two of you, Roman, and maybe I can help you. Does she feel the same?”
“If you’re so close, why don’t you just ask her?” I eye him carefully.
“This feud between your two families brings nothing but destruction,” he says instead of answering.
“It decays the very foundation of the city itself. And above all, that’s what I care about.
This town. So believe me when I say that you need someone who understands how to navigate all of this.
Especially if you’re sloppy enough to leave trails like photos and spray paint. ”
I grit my teeth. “I told you already, that isn’t what it looks like.”
He smacks his hand on the table. “A jumbled confession can only receive a jumbled solution.”
I snap, the words clawing out of my throat before I can stop them.
“What do you want me to say, Frederick? That I saw her once and never forgot? How I think I fell for her before I even knew her name? You want me to spell out how we carve moments like they’re stolen, and how she tells me things she probably doesn’t say out loud to anyone else? ”
His face softens with understanding.
“How it fucking destroys me knowing she’s not mine, and she never can be, when I’d give up almost anything for the chance?”
My voice drops, my heart exposed and raw.
“What good would telling you that do me? Will you take my words and turn them into a ‘solution’? I have news for you: I know Juliette and I can’t be together. It’s been made more than clear. So, we’re not. Period.”
Frederick swallows harshly and slowly nods. “Then look me in the eyes and promise me there’s no story here.”
“There’s no story here,” I say.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
“Very well.” Frederick straightens his cuffs, running a hand down the front of his suit again. “For a moment, I thought you two might be…”
My chest spasms. “Might be what?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He gives me a sad grin. “If you’re fickle, stay away from her. For both of your sakes. And if you aren’t, promise you’ll come to me first. I can help you, Roman. Both of you.”
My brow furrows. “How?”
“Sometimes the only way to protect something as precious as love…is to take it far from where anyone can reach it.”
Something twists low in my gut, like a screw turning into bone.
I don’t answer him. I can’t.
For all of his polished bullshit and monologues, there’s a soft knowing in his words that cuts through me. Like he’s reaching inside my chest and poking at something I’ve barely let myself name.
“Your father’s asked me to help dissuade the public opinion that may arise thinking the vandalism is just one person. There’ll be copycats of you cropping up over the next few days. Do not interfere if you see them tagging.”
My brows rise. “Sure.”
Frederick gives a sharp nod and leaves.
But I’m left with the ache his words left behind.
Sometimes the only way to protect something as precious as love is to take it far from where anyone can reach it.