Over the years, this “uniform” of sorts had become my armor. I’d worked hard to develop a style and persona that I felt confident, commanding, and capable in.
I didn’t want to be the shy girl whose mom died and whose dad abandoned her. I wasn’t the awkward middle-schooler who did her best to teach herself how to apply makeup and do her hair when she had no one to show her, Oh, if only I’d had YouTube. I’d buried the unqualified woman who second-guessed herself and felt unworthy because she never attended college and worked in an industry where her contemporaries held MBAs.
In these clothes I wasn’t any of those people. In these clothes I was Juliette Pierce, executive assistant to Liam Sullivan of Sullivan Holdings, a company worth nearly a billion dollars. In these clothes, I handled every situation with class and grace. In these clothes, I met every situation head on with confidence and authority.
That was who I wanted Romeo to see. A confident, commanding, and capable woman.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself. I just wished I believed it.
In the dark, deep recesses of my mind, I’d always known that this day would come. I’d played it out a million different times in a million different ways. And yet, the reality of it happening was something I still wasn’t prepared for.
The flesh of my inner cheek was swollen from being squished between my teeth. I knew that if I didn’t stop biting down soon I’d be treated to the metallic flavor of blood when I tore right through the soft tissue.
I slackened my jaw and licked my lips. That was another nervous habit of mine.
My entire life I’d struggled to not let myself fall into OCD tendencies and those were even more pronounced when I was nervous. Though, to call what I was feeling “nervous” would be like referring to the Great Lakes as nice ponds.
I checked the screen that displayed flight information, again, and confirmed what I already knew. Romeo’s plane had landed twenty minutes ago, which meant he’d be coming down that escalator any second now.
Just as I had that thought, a crowd of people descended on the moving staircase and I was sure that it had to be passengers from his flight. I scanned the fifteen or so passengers and for a brief moment, I thought that I saw him. My entire body reacted as I gazed at a man with jet black hair that fit Romeo’s height and build standing behind a family of four. I forgot how to breathe, my heart stopped beating, and I didn’t blink. In short, actions that should be involuntary seized up.
Within seconds I realized it was not him, but for that moment I’d frozen, unable to perform even the basic functions to keep me alive.
I blew out a breath of air, my heart began beating once again, and I blinked. It was the third time. If he didn’t show up soon, I’d have a heart attack. Although, that might be inevitable anyway.
This was ridiculous.
Just because the last time I’d seen him he’d torn my heart to shreds was no reason to be this nervous. I needed to take control of my mind and my emotions before they overtook me and the best way that I knew to do that was to reframe this encounter.
This was not about Romeo or what he would think when he saw me. If I was ever going to move forward with my life, I needed to see him and resolve what happened that night.
I had to face my past. Face the humiliation. Face the heartbreak. I’d been running from it, ignoring it, and attempting selective amnesia but now was the time to revisit it, process it, and then put it behind me once and for all.
As I stood in the bustling baggage claim, the night played in my head like a movie. A horror movie where my heart got slashed.
It was my eighteenth birthday, and I’d driven six hours to a show that his band was playing in Louisiana. It was right before Valentine really blew up. Their single, “Hangover Love,” was in the top ten but it hadn’t reached number one yet.
Thanks to a conversation I’d overheard Romeo having with Jared I knew what hotel they were staying at. When I got into town I drove straight to the venue and got backstage during sound check, because it’s not that difficult to get backstage at a dive bar. Then, I stuck the letter that I’d written, pouring out my feelings for him in his drumstick case. I knew that he’d find it there because he never let anyone else touch them. Those sticks were the last thing his mother gave him before she left.
As I stood in the airport, I cringed remembering that I’d even put on bright red lipstick and kissed the envelope.
Cheesy, much?
After I’d secured the letter, I stood in the back of the crowded venue and watched most of the show. Before their encore, I went to the hotel and lied to the front desk clerk. I told him that I was their manager Cameron’s assistant and I needed Romeo’s room key because he’d forgotten something. Miraculously, the dude behind the counter gave it to me.
Once inside, I waited for Romeo to come back from the show. I’d saved up from my job at Dairy Queen and bought expensive lingerie. It was fairly tame compared to what you might see as swimwear these days, but I felt so adult as I slipped into the black teddy and lay on the bed.
Again, another cringey move, but in my defense, my Yaya loved romance novels and I’d been dipping into her collection since I hit puberty, so my idea had literary inspiration. I remember feeling like a heroine in my own real-life romance novel as I waited. I envisioned him throwing the door open, finding me in his bed, declaring his everlasting love for me, and then ravishing me like the heroes I’d read about.
That didn’t happen.
Instead, he came stumbling in around three, which was about three hours after his show ended. He was obviously drunk. He saw me and shook his head no.
That was his very first reaction to finding me in his room. And it went downhill from there. The short exchange ended with me crying, grabbing my clothes and making the drive-of-shame back to Texas.
I hadn’t seen him, in person, since.
Cut to me waiting in an airport with an entire weekend ahead of me, and it was no wonder I felt as if I were on the emotional equivalent of the Scrambler. The ride just kept spinning around and around, whipping me from one end of the seat to the other, and all I could do was hold onto the bar across my lap for dear life.
“No.” I whispered beneath my breath as anger welled in me at my victimhood mentality. I had a habit of speaking under my breath when I was mad and right now that frustration was pointed directly at myself. “This is not happening to you. You chose this, just like you chose to drive six hours, pour your heart out in a letter like you were Amanda Seyfried in Dear John, and break into his hotel room. You chose to accept this assignment. You chose to—”
“Are you okay?”
The voice I heard from behind me had the tiny hairs on the back of my neck and arms standing straight up. I’d know it anywhere. And I didn’t miss the significance of him asking the same question now as he had all those years ago in the hay maze.
I’d been so focused on the mini-meltdown I was having, I’d missed seeing him come down the escalator.
Just like before, I couldn’t breathe or blink. This time, it wasn’t a false alarm. This time, the man who short-circuited all my systems was standing behind me.
CHAPTER 4
Romeo
I watched as Juliette froze at the sound of my voice.
As much as I’d been enjoying watching her mumbling to herself, the impulse to see her was too great. Also, the fact that she was speaking to herself didn’t bode well for her state of mind.
The only time that Jules did that was when she was mad.
I’d been hoping that I’d find her head bobbing back and forth, the way it did when she was happy, or at worst, maybe I’d find her biting her inner cheek or licking her lips, two things she did when she was nervous. Talking under her breath was not a good sign. She was definitely pissed.
As she started to turn around, I braced myself for what she might say. Was she upset that I’d gone behind her back to make this weekend happen? Was she irritated that I’d requested her as the only
staff? Had I messed up plans that she had with a boyfriend?
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.
What if she had a boyfriend? Last month I’d asked Jared how she was and if she was seeing anybody. He’d said that if she was it was Liam, her boss. When I asked if he was serious, he’d said no, but that she was married to her work.
But what if she was seeing Liam?
What if it was serious but she just hadn’t said anything?
Fuck it. What we had was serious, and it was over a decade in the making. I didn’t honestly care if she was with someone.
I’d never known that slow motion in real life was actually possible until this moment. As Jules turned, her head first looking over her shoulder, followed by her entire body. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest. I blinked and my eyelids were heavy. A whoosh of air expelled from my lungs. In actuality, all of it happened in a second, but in my reality it was much longer.
My lids opened from my long blink and that’s when I saw them. Eyes so familiar I knew every speck of gold that floated in them. The moment our eyes locked, all of the air around me evaporated. Time stood still and nothing existed except the person in front of me.
I took in the woman Juliette had grown into, but I still saw that fresh-faced girl. The girl that did victory dances when she’d beat me at Street Fighter. The girl that licked the cookie, cake, or brownie batter out of the bowl and off all of the utensils every time she baked, which was often. The girl that blushed when I saw her in her prom dress and told her that she couldn’t go because it wouldn’t be fair to the other girls at school. Really, I’d wanted to say that she couldn’t go because I didn’t like the prick she was going with. But I took care of that when I pulled Kevin Murdock to the side and told him that if he laid so much as a finger on her he would wake up with one less finger.
As she stood in front of me now, I noticed that her cheekbones were more defined and her face had lost a little of its roundness. Her skin was still ivory and smooth and my hands still itched to touch her. Her hair was pulled back off her face and the style showcased her long neck. The neck that I wanted to lean down and taste. She wore a white button-down shirt tucked into a tight black skirt that molded to her curves in all the right places and hit her mid-calf. There might only be a few inches of skin showing on her legs but damn, they were good inches.
She was the epitome of every man’s hot teacher/librarian/businesswoman fantasy come to life.
She was perfection.
“Hi.” I was barely able to push the single-syllable word out over the boulder lodged in my throat.
“Hi,” she exhaled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I clocked someone recognizing me and alerting her friend of my presence. In the decade since the band had grown in popularity, I’d become an expert at spotting overzealous fans. I wanted to stay in this moment forever but I sensed that any second the spell that we’d been floating in was about to evaporate.
I was right. The young women rushed to our side. Juliette turned her attention to them and the magic was gone.
“Excuse me? Are you Romeo from Valentine?” one girl asked.
“Can we get a picture?” the other followed.
Normally, I didn’t mind indulging fans. They were, after all, the reason I’d been able to have the career that I’d had. They allowed me to live the life I’d always dreamed of as a kid. The life of a rock star. And now, I was hoping they’d follow me into the next chapter of my life.
The solo chapter.
So, even though the very last thing I wanted to do was take my eyes off of Juliette, I forced myself to do just that.
I turned to the young ladies who were both wearing UCLA hoodies. “Yep. And sure.”
“Can you take it?” The raven-haired coed asked Juliette.
“Of course.” Her lips turned up in a customer-service grin.
“You don’t have to—” I started to reach for the phone. I didn’t want our first interaction to be her taking a picture of me and a couple of fans. I had long arms and was well practiced in the fine art of taking selfies.
“It’s fine,” she insisted.
The girls sandwiched me, one on each side, and threw up rock symbols with their hands. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and did the same.
Juliette snapped away for a few moments before saying, “Okay, one more.”
Before I knew it, both girls were on their tiptoes kissing me on my cheeks.
“Got it.” Juliette clipped briskly before handing the phone back to the girls.
They hung around for another minute or two so they could tell me their favorite songs. One told me that she lost her virginity to Take Me. I nodded, still not exactly sure how to respond to that remark even though I’d heard the same sentiment thousands of times.
Why people felt the need to share it with me and the other guys in the band, I had no idea.
But this time was even stranger since I’d written the song about Juliette. Well, technically I wrote it one night when I was thinking about how differently things could’ve gone if I hadn’t told Jules that nothing could happen between us. I wondered if she knew that song was about her.
I wondered if she knew every song I’d written was about her.
When the young women left, I wanted to get out of there before there were any more sightings. “Let’s go.”
Juliette waved her hand toward the baggage carousel. “Don’t you have luggage?”
“This is it.” I patted the leather duffel bag I had slung over my shoulder.
“That’s it?” Her brow knitted.
“Yep,” I confirmed.
Her expression turned to one of resignation as she lifted her arm and tried to grab the bag.
“What are you doing?” I asked her, shifting so the strap was out of her reach.
“My job,” she stated flatly.
“I can take it.”
“You asked for car service, if the driver were here he’d take your bag.”
“It’s not going to happen, Jules.” I shook my head.
“Do not call me that.” With that command, she walked with purpose toward the sliding glass doors that led outside. Her heels clicked on the tile floor and I followed right behind her.
I’d been in her presence only a few minutes and I’d already screwed up by calling her Jules. It was a nickname that very few people were allowed to use for her because it was what her mom called her, so it was sacred. Jared, Yaya, her papouli and I were the only people that I’d ever known to have permission.
Apparently, mine had been rescinded.
CHAPTER 5
Juliette
My toe tapped on the floorboard as I stared out the window at the large expanse of dark desert landscape that passed by as we drove to Oasis. I quietly stewed over what had gone wrong and brainstormed ways I could fix the power imbalance.
Things were not at all going as planned. Not that I’d had some grand plan, but even the vague outline of a plan was obliterated.
From the second I turned around and came face-to-face with Romeo, it felt like I was behind the eight ball. Seeing him, after all these years, had rendered me speechless. It was all I could do to stay upright as I processed the thoughts and feelings that had fired in quick succession.
The first thing that had hit me was that he was exponentially better looking in person than he was online. A picture might be worth a thousand words, but it didn’t have anything on real-life Romeo. Part of that, I was sure, was his innate charisma and sex appeal. JPEGs didn’t pick up the twinkle in his eye and pheromones couldn’t transmit digitally. He’d always had that special something that drew people to him, and it had only increased with age.
Second, I truly appreciated the impact of him being a man now. A full grown man. A man with a strong jaw and broad chest. A man whose arms were no longer long and gangly, but now corded with muscles and covered in tattoos. His arms weren’t the only place he had tattoos, either. He had ink on his hands and even his
neck. One that stood out was a pair of lips on his neck. I wondered if he’d been inspired by his third favorite drummer Tommy Lee who had a similar tattoo and also how many girls had pressed their own lips there. I wondered if it was a Cinderella scenario, where all the women at the ball tried on the slipper, hoping, wishing, their lips would fit.
I couldn’t believe the man I was seeing was also the same boy that had offered me his hand in the hay maze. Just like then, Romeo wore a baseball cap and his smile was still big, broad, and inviting.
Those were my thoughts, but they were nothing compared to the mess of emotions and sensations that crashed over me. My entire body lit up like a slot machine that hit the jackpot. There was dinging, alarms going off, and lights flashing.
And somehow in the midst of all that happening internally, all Romeo had to do was say, hi, and I was transported to the eye of the storm. One word, one look in his eyes, and I was in the center as gale force winds of thoughts, emotions, and sensations whirled around me.
It had always been like that with Romeo. It didn’t matter if we were in a crowd of hundreds, or if it was just the two of us, there was a magic spell that cocooned us and made me feel like we were the only people on earth.
I’d completely forgotten about that particular phenomenon, but after all these years, it was just as powerful as ever.
At least it was until we were interrupted by fans. Academically I knew that Romeo was famous, but seeing girls fawn all over him was definitely a foreign experience. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, I’d seen girls fawn all over him since he was in middle school, but the picture-taking thing was new.
It had caught me off guard and things had gone downhill from there.
He hadn’t allowed me to take his bag. Then, he’d sent the driver back because he had a car waiting that he’d rented, which just happened to be a classic two-tone red and white 1955 Chevy Bel Air, with matching interior, whitewall tires, and chrome bumpers. It was identical to the car that Papouli had owned. Except this one was in pristine condition and Papouli’s was not. One of my favorite childhood memories was sitting outside and keeping him company while he worked on restoring it.
Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3) Page 3
