Chapter 13 #2
It’s also part of the reason why I’ve never been able to escape him.
Once I’ve calmed my racing pulse, I stare him directly in the eye. “I’m aware.”
I snap my mouth shut, ready to wolf down this sandwich. Not only because I’m starving, but I’m hoping it’ll keep me from opening my mouth to talk to Rome. I take a bite, eyeing him over my sandwich. He watches me in silence as I chew.
Swallowing, I trail my tongue across my lips before taking another bite. Narrowing his eyes, Rome rests his hands on the edge of the counter. The air in the room turns tense.
I stare at him for longer than I have in years, taking note of the subtle changes.
I’ve been too angry with him to bother noticing how much older he seems now or how much he’s actually filled out.
The sleeves of his shirt are strained as his muscles flex.
His dark hair rests just above his brow, shadowing his deep blue eyes.
Rome Montgomery has always been unintentionally intense, even before I fell in love with him. But right now, with the way he’s staring me down, this is unmistakably intended, and I learned the only way to survive is to dish it right back.
Rome watches me until I’ve taken the last bite. I chew it with a smile before washing my hands and heading toward the back door as though I don’t have a care in the world.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I pause with my hand on the large French door. “For a walk.”
“A walk?”
“You know?”—I spin around—“The thing humans do where they put one foot in front of the other at a leisurely pace?”
The muscles in his tightened jaw click. “Yeah.” He frowns, looking down at his feet as he crosses the room, ignoring my sarcasm. “Nope. Not happening.”
“Are you seriously telling me I can’t go for a walk?”
“It isn’t safe.”
“It isn’t safe?” I laugh in disbelief. “Your land is surrounded by a security fencing, and I’m willing to bet you all the money in my bank account that you have a million cameras and guardsmen posted.”
“Cameras, yes.” He crosses his arms defiantly. “Guardsmen, no. I’m not my father.”
My stomach sinks. Although I wasn’t the one who brought him up, Rome doesn’t like talking about his father. I don’t blame him. Talking about Dominico Montgomery sends a chill down my spine, too.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms beneath my chest to mimic Rome. My breasts push up above the scalloped trim of my top.
Rome’s heated gaze drops to them as he steps closer. I’m unprepared for the way he’s looking at me. I have no self-control. My gaze drops to his mouth, another type of hunger taking over.
The air in this house is stifling. I need fresh air and distance.
Fuck, I need to get out of here.
“I’m going on a walk, Rome.”
“Not by yourself.”
“I’ll have Marcus go with me then.”
He steps closer, and I step back, landing against the door, rattling it against the frame.
“Marcus isn’t here,” he says lowly. “He’s a little preoccupied in the city gathering all the items off that ridiculously long list you sent.”
“Every item I sent is important. My list was reasonable.”
“By whose standards? A normal person’s… or Julianna Montgomery’s?”
The wind is knocked out of me. It feels like a brick was just hurled at my chest. No one has called me Julianna Montgomery since the weeks and months after we were married.
Even then, the only person outside of Rome to ever call me it was Marcus, considering he’s the one who performed our marriage ceremony.
“That’s probably the last time you’ll be able to use that name, since you finally offered the divorce,” I offer, pretending he hasn’t just undone years of me hiding this part of my life.
“We’ll see,” he answers, not taking the bait. His mouth curls, knowing he isn’t playing my game.
I swallow thickly, fighting the urge to kiss the arrogant sneer right off his mouth. Or smack it off.
“Still isn’t safe for you to go on a walk, though” he adds.
Rome has never been one to control me. Obviously.
We’ve spent ten years being married on paper, but he’s never stopped me from living my life the way I want, the way we agreed, separately and free to do what and who we want.
While I suspect Rome’s insistence on not letting me go on a walk stems from protection, I refuse to be confined to the four walls of this house, especially when he’s tossing out my married name so easily.
I can’t handle it. I’m gasping for air, desperate for it.
“I’m going for a walk whether you want me to or not.”
“Lark,” he warns.
I raise my finger. “No. I can’t stay in this house with you all hours of the day. I need to breathe.”
His eyes search my face. For what, I don’t know, but I get the sense he’s reading me far easier than I’d like.
Rome and I have never been able to resist each other for long once we’re together, and I’ve already been thinking thoughts that would cross the line we’ve drawn and somehow held for ten years.
“Fine. You can go on your silly little walk.” He reaches around me to open the door. “But I’m coming with you.” He grabs the pistol sitting on the small end table by the door and tucks it behind his back and under his belt.
“Okay.” I perk up, hoping my sudden shift in mood irritates him. “But no talking, and you maintain a distance of at least fifteen feet behind me at all times.”
“As you wish”—he holds the door open for me—“Mrs. Montgomery.”