Chapter 9 Julianna
NINE
JULIANNA
I close my eyes and will this to be over with as fast as humanly possible. I think of all the things Rome could have me do to get back at me for writing the article that nearly destroyed his reputation, but there are too many possible scenarios, and I get overwhelmed thinking of them.
We don’t talk for the rest of the flight. After landing, I slip back into my shoes and follow Rome out of the plane, staying several feet behind him, refusing to speak to him again until he tells me exactly what he’s having me do here.
When my feet hit the airport runway, I take in my surroundings, hoping it’ll give me answers. I feel like a detective, taking in the gorgeous scenery of thick, tall trees around the tiny airport. Aside from Rome’s security detail and flight crew, it’s otherwise deserted. We’re alone.
A few hundred feet from the plane waits a black SUV with the back door propped open.
Rome slips inside, and I do the same, sliding against the leather, wishing I was wearing something a little more appropriate.
Something about a tight, skimpy black dress, a feathery coat, and thick chunky heels doesn’t feel right for this early in the morning.
I shove the nerves aside and breathe a small sigh of relief when I find familiar eyes looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“Ms. Capuleti.” He nods in acknowledgement.
“Marcus.” I give him a faint smile. “Hi.”
As Rome’s longtime bodyguard, Marcus has always been the closest person to either of us.
He knows all our secrets, and there are many times in the past I’ve dared to call him a friend and confidante.
But it’s been difficult over the past ten years to figure out where either of us stand, considering the complicated situation between Rome and me.
At least we’re still in the place of being cordial to one another with him even calling me Ms. Capuleti.
Marcus drives us off the runway and out of the airport before turning onto a small two-lane road.
“Marcus,” I start. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
His mouth pops open to answer, but Rome cuts him off before the word can pass his lips. “You’ll know when we get there.”
I snap my head in his direction. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I asked Marcus, not you. Plus, I’m not talking to you until you give me my phone.”
“I’ve instructed Marcus not to tell you where we’re going.”
Frustrated, I turn to look at Marcus again. He offers me sympathetic eyes and nothing more.
I give up.
I stare out my window in silence, watching the passing scenery in awe. We go from driving through thick forests to wide open plains. I don’t pay attention to Rome or Marcus. I don’t even know how long we’ve been on the road, considering I have no way of telling time.
Fuck, can this day go any slower? It feels like I’ve been stuck on this trip with Rome for years, not hours.
But my stomach flips when I recognize the small, secluded pond coming into view.
“Wait.” I exhale, my heart racing. “Why are we here?”
Unsurprisingly, Rome continues to give me the silent treatment.
We turn off the main road and start the long drive down a side road leading to the house.
A house I haven’t seen in a decade. A large wooden cabin surrounded by trees sits beyond the tall, elaborate wrought iron gate.
I don’t remember there being a gate before.
Marcus pulls up and types in the code before the gate doors swing open.
I hold my breath as he drives slowly. Achingly slow.
Why the hell is he driving like this? Sloths move at a faster pace. Marcus’s eyes constantly move from the rearview to both side mirrors, occasionally glancing at Rome in the backseat.
I hadn’t noticed until now, but the air in the car has turned tense. There’s a silent communication going on between Rome and Marcus—a conversation they clearly don’t want me to be a part of, but I know something is off.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, my nerves only growing the closer we get to the house. I haven’t been here in ten years, and the last time I was, I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest.
The SUV comes to a stop, and Rome immediately steps out on his side. I’m staring at the house through the front windshield, unable to move, thinking back to the last conversation Rome and I had here.
We stopped yelling at that point, both surrendering to the truth, and our agreement still echoing through the walls of the one place we used to call ours.
This cabin used to bring me peace. Now all I feel is pain, heartbreak, and the acceptance of what could never be.
Rome stands at the front of the car with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He simply waits, staring at me through the front windshield.
“What’s going on, Marcus?” I’m hoping he’ll crack a little since Rome isn’t in the car and can’t hear us.
“I think it’s best I leave the explaining to him.”
I sigh, placing my hand on the door handle. “Are you not coming?”
“In a few.” He glances over his shoulder before turning back to face the front. “I’ll let you two talk.”
I finally open the door and step out, making sure not to sprain my ankle on the large chunks of gravel of the enormous circular driveway.
The vine-covered, stone fountain set in the middle is still there, water trickling from the top into the well at the bottom.
The yard is still covered in boxwoods and rose bushes, fully in bloom.
Shutting the door behind me, I meet Rome close to the front steps of the porch.
“Honestly, Rome…” I cross my arms, kicking the rocks with the toe of my heels. “I’m shocked you’d have the guts to bring me back here, considering how we left things the last time.”
Nothing. He doesn’t speak a word as he looks at the house.
His expression reminds me of Charleigh’s new husband, Asher.
Asher’s one of the biggest real estate executives in the city who closed a deal for me on my newest apartment.
He looked at my property the same way Rome is looking at his house now.
“I thought you’d have started talking by now,” I tell him, sensing the weight of this place may be hitting him, too. Though, that would require him to have feelings, which Rome Montgomery does not. “Are you going to explain why you brought me here?”
Keeping his hands firmly stuffed into his pockets, he half turns, talking over his shoulder. “You’re a talented interior designer, Julianna.”
“Thank you?” I frown. “I guess.”
Okay, wasn’t expecting that.
He shrugs a shoulder before facing forward again.
“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask him.
He cocks his head, keeping his focus on the front door. “Let’s go inside.”
He starts up the steps. I don’t follow.
“Rome.” I swallow the lump suddenly appearing in my throat. “I can’t.”
He swings the front door open. “If you want me to start talking, you’ll need to step inside.”
I flick my gaze from his to the doorway. From the small bit of the inside I can see, it looks the same. Same wallpaper. Same rich mahogany and black furniture. Same black hallway runner on top of rich wooden flooring.
I attempt to even my breathing and clear the memories from my mind. “Fine.”
I march past Rome, coming to a sudden stop when I get halfway down the hallway. Despite the size, there’s never been much to the cabin: one bedroom, one bathroom, an expansive living room and kitchen, with wall-to-ceiling glass doors facing the pond on Rome’s property.
I keep my feet anchored in the hallway, resting my chin on my shoulder as I gaze out the back window from here. The morning sun shimmers along the surface of the water. Birds tweet in the background, providing music to the serenity of upstate New York.
“I’m assuming you’re still thirsty. Hungry, even.” Rome brushes past me, heading straight for the kitchen. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him in this setting—one where he’s serving me. It’s jarring, to say the least.
His head disappears behind the refrigerator door before he reemerges with two bottles of water and a bowl of fresh strawberries. He sets one of the bottles in front of me, along with the bowl of strawberries. I didn’t think Rome came here often enough to keep fresh fruit.
“Eat.” He points to the strawberries.
I watch as he cracks open his bottle of water and lifts it to his mouth to take a large drink. He stretches his neck, the wings of his bird tattoo extending along with the tight muscles.
Heat pools in my lower stomach again.
Through the vacant spaces between his tattoo, I swear I see dark purple and yellow spots, but I could be wrong. I clear my throat and pick up a strawberry, trying not to stare for too long.
“You didn’t bring me here just to feed me fresh strawberries, did you?” I narrow my gaze before biting into the end. Juice bursts onto my tongue, filling my mouth.
Fuck, that tastes good. Conscious Rome is watching me intently, though, I fight back a satisfied moan.
“No,” he chuckles, a dimple forming in his right cheek. Of all the sharp edges Rome Montgomery has, there’s a subtle softness to him. “I want you to redecorate the house.”
I blanche, pulling the strawberry away from my mouth. “What?”
“I told you outside, you’re a talented interior designer.” He gestures toward me. “The best in New York City, if not the entire country. I want you to redecorate the house.”
“Really?” I raise my brows. “That’s it? You want me to redecorate your cabin in exchange for the article?”
His eyes shift to the left before they’re back on me. “Yes.”
Suspicion eats away at me. Things with Rome are never as simple or as dry cut as they appear.
There’s always a catch. But I give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe he just made a big deal about bringing me here because he knew I wouldn’t go willingly if he told me back in New York.
This place holds too many of our secrets.
I survey the main area from where I’m standing.
I’ve always thought the house was beautifully decorated and never needed an update.
Timeless touches and family mementos litter every surface of the house.
I still believe it doesn’t need work, but if doing my job is all Rome wants in exchange for my scathing article, I’ll do it.
“Okay.” I grab another strawberry. “When I get back home, I’ll come up with a design plan and send it to you.”
“Oh.” Rome takes a drink from his water and swallows. “That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean? That’s how I work with all my clients. I come up with a design plan and send the renderings to you for approval.”
“Not with me. I’m not a client.” He shakes his head. “I’m your—”
“I know exactly what you are.” I drop my strawberry and shove the bowl forward.
“You’ll be staying here for the job. Full time.”
“Ah.” I click my tongue. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said you were abducting me. There’s no fucking way I’m staying here as your prisoner, Rome.”
He winces, massaging his fingers over his lips. His snake tattoo peeks out from the sleeve of his suit, and I suddenly remember how dark Rome’s past is. “You don’t really have a choice. You nearly fucked over my life, remember?”
“Your family was already to blame for that, don’t you think?”
“I’ve spent years working to get away from them, and you know it. You almost ruined it with your petty little article.”
Tears build behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them shed.
See, the thing is, what Rome and I were doing these past few months might have appeared petty, but it wasn’t.
Like the way we talk to each other, it comes from somewhere deep inside us, caught between a fuel of love and hate.
And while Rome has worked to better his life without the baggage of his family’s name, I’ve done the same.
I twist my mouth, gnawing on my bottom lip until the feeling of being here becomes too much. “No, I don’t want to do this. I can’t be here.” I wave my arms at my sides, spinning around. “I’ll do anything else to repay you, but not this.”
I leave Rome in the kitchen, rush down the hallway, and head back toward the front door. I hurry down the steps of the front porch, nearly losing my footing, only to catch myself on the wooden railing and look up just in time to see Marcus finally stepping out of the car.
“Take me home, Marcus. I want to leave.”
“Ms. Capuleti,” he says in a sympathetic tone, keeping a hand wrapped around his upper thigh as he limps toward me. He’s holding a cane in his other hand, stabbing it into the gravel with every step.
I stop in my tracks. “Why are you limping? And why are you using a cane?”
He waves me off, frowning and shaking his head. “Just stretched a muscle is all. I’ll be okay.”
“A limp and a cane for a stretched muscle?” I tilt my head, my attention dropping to his leg before I snap my head over my shoulder to see Rome standing at the threshold, leaning against it too casually. “Why is Marcus limping? What happened?”
An eerie chill slithers down my spine as my gaze drops back to his neck. Those purple and yellow marks are bruises.
“Wait…” It suddenly occurs to me. “Why did we take your plane here when it’s only a three-hour drive from the city?”
“Had to make sure we weren’t being followed.” Again, he states it as easily as reading the fucking dictionary.
“Why the hell would anyone be following us?” I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering all the baggage that comes with Rome Montgomery. He used to claim this was a life he wanted no role in. He lied. All he ever does is lie. “No. Don’t tell me. I’ve told you before, I don’t want to know.”
“Julianna.” I try not to let it sting that he’s calling me by my first name.
“No.” I vehemently shake my head. “I don’t want to know why we flew circles over the entire state before coming here, and I don’t want to know why Marcus is fucking limping. I just want to leave.”
I realize at this point I’m practically screaming. It’s all too much. The pain. The heartbreak. The danger. The secrets. Everything involving Rome is a secret.
I’m marching toward the car when Rome’s hand wraps around mine.
“Lark, please.” Fuck. Now he’s using my nickname. There are only two instances when Rome uses my nickname: when he’s eager to taunt me, or when he desperately needs something.
I have a gut feeling it’s the latter this time.
He grips me harder, but I don’t turn around. A tear slips from the corner of my eye. He’s touching me, here, surrounded by nothing but beauty and pain.
“I’ll give you the one thing you asked for the last time we were here.”
I hold my breath. Closing my eyes, I brace myself before turning around. Once I do, I crack them open and stare directly into his midnight blues.
“And what exactly is that Rome?”
He gulps, the wings on his neck dipping. His gaze drops to where we’re connected before he’s looking into my eyes again. “The divorce. I’ll give you the divorce.”