by Sienna Blake
He let go of me but he didn’t step back, leaving me no room to breathe. I was suddenly all too aware that I was standing alone in the dark with Roman Tyrell. My nerve ends felt electrified, as if we were two live wires that would spark if we got any closer. I couldn’t be in the dark with him. It was too intimate. Too intense.
I reached out to the side and flicked on the closest light switch. It turned on the living room light, which fell partly into the entryway through the kitchen. Now his handsome features were bathed in light and shadows. Dear God, he was beautiful. And too close. Much too close.
I sank back against the door and realized too late that I had cornered myself. “What are you doing in my apartment?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He stared at me with those intense eyes of midnight fire. “We need to talk.”
No, we needed to stay as far away from each other as possible. I swallowed. “How do you even know where I live?”
His perfect lips twitched. “I’m a Tyrell. I have…resources.”
Don’t forget that this man is a Tyrell. He is dangerous. I should be terrified that he’d found out where I lived and broke into my apartment. For some reason, I wasn’t.
I thought back to my lock. I hadn’t noticed any pick marks. I couldn’t imagine Roman Tyrell bothering to pick a lock. He’d more likely kick the door down. “How did you get in? This is a secure building.”
He frowned. “You should get an alarm system. You never know who might be lying in wait for you in your apartment. It’s not safe.”
I snorted. “This coming from you. You never answered me; how did you get in?”
“You left your bedroom window unlocked.”
I blinked at him. “You scaled my building?”
He shrugged. “There’s a fire escape out there. It wasn’t hard to jump from the fire escape to your window.”
I ran my mind over the structure of the side of the building, of the fire escape and my window. I gasped. “You idiot. You could’ve been killed.”
“So you do care about me,” he said, his voice softened.
I glared at him. “I don’t care about you. I care about how the hell I would explain the body of Roman Tyrell splattered all over my sidewalk. Never mind the paperwork.”
He grabbed his chest as if I shot him through the heart. “Ouch. You really know how to wound a guy.”
“What the fuck happened at the interview?” I hissed at him. “Was that your idea of a joke?”
“I was as surprised as you were.”
“How could you possibly expect me to believe you didn’t know who I was?”
“How could I? I haven’t been in this damn country for the last eight years. I take it meeting you wasn’t some kind of police organized shakedown.”
“No. Just a crazy coincidence.”
“Fate.”
I snorted. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“How do you explain us?”
Us. Memories slammed through me. His naked body, hard and unyielding, his hands searing into my skin as he gave to me as much as he took.
I shoved these images away. I would not allow myself to lose my head around him. I could not.
My body betrayed me. My nipples were painful pebbles against the material of my shirt. I was sure my cheeks were flushed and my pupils dilated. All of these things I hoped he couldn’t see.
“There is no us,” I hissed at him.
“Don’t tell me you don’t feel—”
“I feel nothing.”
“You’re lying,” he said, his dark eyes probing my face. “Don’t tell me that if I pressed you up against your door and kissed you right now, you could push me away.”
I sucked in a breath as my panties flooded with wet heat. “You…you wouldn’t.”
His gaze burned into me and aggression rolled off him. He inched forward, his muscles tensing as if he was fighting to hold back from making good on his threat.
My own body tensed as my mind warred with my body. I wanted him. Even though I knew who he was, my body begged for his touch. I hungered for him to slam me against this door and to do his worst.
He might have killed someone, Julianna! a voice inside me screamed.
I had known from the minute I’d met him there was something dangerous about him. But he wasn’t a killer. Right?
“Did you do it?” I blurted out.
“Do what?”
“Kidnap Vinnie. Torture him.”
“I already told you, no.”
“Off the record.” I swallowed, hard. “I need to know… Did you?”
He didn’t so much as flinch. “I never touched him,” he said, his voice flat.
I didn’t think he was lying but there was something off about his response. “Tell me you didn’t press a gun to his temple and pull the trigger.”
His eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I never touched him.”
Why did I want to believe him?
“Julianna,” he said, his voice rolling around my name as if he was caressing it. “I’m not—”
“You lied to me. You told me your name was Roman Lettiere.”
His shoulders fell. “Lettiere was my mother’s maiden name. I always felt more like a Lettiere than a Tyrell.”
“You still lied to me. Why should I believe anything you say?” I wasn’t ready to believe him. Even though, deep down I wanted to.
“Because you know me, Jules.” He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight that it bordered on painful. “Look past the last name I was given.”
I yanked against him but he wouldn’t release me. “Let go of me.”
“You know me.”
I scowled at him. “You’re a prime suspect in my active murder investigation. As far as anyone else is concerned, I don’t know you.”
“You didn’t tell them about us?” The word us came out like a breathy whisper and the word slithered down my spine, unleashing a series of unwanted images through my mind: his hands on my hips, his mouth claiming mine, his beautiful cock sliding into my aching core. My clit throbbed.
I swallowed and tried to wrestle control back from my mutinous body. “No. I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Good.” He let out a huge breath. He was relieved.
“Don’t worry, I don’t want to be associated with you either,” I snapped, a stab of hurt embedding in my stomach. “My career is not worth ruining for you.”
He frowned. “I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about… If my father found out that you and I…” His mouth snapped shut. What was he about to say? “You’re better off not telling anyone about us.”
Us? That word was like a taunt. There is no us, I wanted to yell. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?” I demanded, pent up betrayal finally surfacing. “Why did you lie to me and tell me your last name was Lettiere?”
“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like I’m a criminal. Like someone to avoid.” He sounded almost sad. “Some girls… it turns them on. They like the danger of being with a Tyrell. I knew you weren’t like that.”
Wasn’t I? Being here with him right now was pretty damn dangerous but I was still, for some screwed up reason, turned the hell on.
He stepped closer. “Don’t tell me you would have come with me if you knew I was a Tyrell.”
“Of course I wouldn’t have gone with you. Do you think I like being in this position? Having to lie to my partner, to my superiors, to my father?”
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” he said, his voice turning hard.
“It was a mistake,” I blurted out. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
“A mistake,” he said, his voice laced with anger. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
“You also shouldn’t have lied about not having a girlfriend.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Rosaline came to the station today to corroborate your alibi, or
should I say, to lie for you. She seemed to think differently about your relationship.”
Something dark crossed his face. “Rosaline has this idea of us that doesn’t match reality.”
“And yet you still called on her when you needed help,” I spat out. “Did you tell her it was me?”
“Of course not.”
“I questioned her. She knew everything we did when we were together. You told her everything.”
“Are you mad because she lied,” he spoke in a low voice, “or are you angry because I shared what was ours with her?”
My heart stabbed. “I’m angry that you put me in this position. I know that a witness is lying to me but I can do nothing about it.”
He pursed his lips, then a look of amusement lightened his face. “You’re jealous.”
I stiffened. “I am not.”
He leaned his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the door. His nose brushed alongside my neck. “I can smell it rolling off you.”
I gulped at the air, trying to get enough breath into my lungs. My mind was short-circuiting with him so close.
“Why are you jealous, Jules? Tell me.”
I had to make him stop. I could feel my willpower wavering as his heat rolled off him. Any second now I’d give in and lift my mouth to his lips, now running along my cheekbone, causing shivers to cascade through my body.
I shoved him back and he stepped out of my space. “Leave. Now.”
“I’m not done talking.”
“I am.” I snatched my gun from my hip holster and raised it to point at him. “Get out.”
He raised his hands in surrender, his face smoothing out into that mask I’d first seen in the interrogation room. He took a step towards me. I sidestepped around giving him the space he needed, keeping my gun trained on him. I didn’t trust myself without it.
He opened the door and paused in the doorway, turning to face me once more. “Thank you,” he said, his voice hard as steel.
“What for?”
He stared at the barrel of my gun, then up at me. “For reminding me which side I’m on.”
His words were like bullets in my chest. Before I could speak, he was gone.
29
____________
Roman
I pulled my collar up, keeping my face turned away from the security camera I knew was mounted over the lobby door, as I exited Julianna’s building. I eased down a side street and slunk into the shadows, becoming one with the night.
She had pulled a gun on me. She had pointed the black barrel at my heart and fear flashed across her beautiful face as she yelled at me to “get out”.
She was scared of me.
A surge of rage went through me. I lashed out, kicking a garbage can, causing it to fly across the alley and smash against the slimy brick wall. It exploded, the trash contained within spilling out all over the ground. The stench of rotting fruit reached my nose. I stood, chest heaving, staring at the destruction before me. The destruction I had caused.
Look at me. She was right to be scared. I was a Tyrell, a blackened heart, a thing to be feared. A destroyer of everything he touched. Why did I ever think I could be anything different?
Because she had made me feel like I could be different. Because when she had gazed up at me, her honeyed hair spread across the pillow, her soft body naked and open, she gave me a reason to be different.
Knowing who I was had chased that look away. She was lost to me. The man I could have been was lost to me too.
A door banged open farther up the alleyway, fluorescent light spilling out from the fast food joint. A short fat man stepped out yelling obscenities at me for kicking over his garbage can. I turned towards him and watched fear flash in his eyes. He retreated without another word and slammed the door shut behind him, the lock clicking.
I stood alone in the dark once more.
I had done my duty. I had warned Julianna. I was sure she wouldn’t tell anyone about the night we’d spent together. Now I just had to keep away from her.
30
____________
Julianna
“Thank you.” Roman stared at the barrel of the gun I pointed at him, then up at me. “For reminding me which side I’m on.”
I didn’t put him on the other side. He did. He did by… by…
By having the wrong surname.
The knot in my stomach grew. I kicked off my bed sheets. Damn you, Roman Tyrell. Another sleepless night thinking about you. It was too damn hot. I felt like I had a fever.
I got up out of bed and threw open my window, the cool night air like a balm against my burning skin. My fingers traced the window sill. He slipped inside through this very window earlier. My skin prickled as I gazed down the fire escape that Roman had climbed earlier to get to me. Was he down there? Watching me? Was he in the shadows staring back up at me?
I tore myself away from the window and fell back into bed, squeezing my eyes shut and demanding that I sleep.
“My father is a difficult man. My family is…complicated. We have a family business and the politics… The politics are killer. I didn’t want to be a part of it. I wanted to be my own person.”
“That’s very brave of you.”
“Or desperate.”
Could it be true? Did Roman Tyrell have nothing to do with Vinnie’s death? Or was this just what he wanted me to think? Was Roman Tyrell trying to manipulate me?
I recalled the desperation in his voice as he begged me to believe him. “Look past the last name I was given. You know me.”
I sat up in bed, my head spinning. What if… What if the world was wrong? What if the Roman I had met was the real Roman Tyrell? What if he wasn’t the monster everyone thought him to be?
“Thank you… For reminding me which side I’m on.”
Guilt stabbed at my gut. I had made him feel like a criminal tonight. I had to apologize.
Apologize, Julianna, are you nuts? He was still the prime suspect in Vinnie’s murder.
If he’s cleared of Vinnie’s murder, then you can apologize.
I couldn’t apologize. Even if he was cleared. I was a detective, the police chief’s daughter. He was the son of Giovanni Tyrell. I couldn’t apologize to him.
At least not publicly.
Roman and I could never be seen together, even if he were deemed innocent. We could never be friends.
Friends. As if Roman and I could ever just be friends. The ghost of the electricity I felt when he was near me coursed through my veins. Every time we’d gotten near each other we’d almost torn each other’s clothes off.
I shook my head. Things were too complicated. My body had a mind of its own when it came to him. I couldn’t trust myself around him. Roman and I had to stay the hell away from each other.
31
____________
Julianna
“Detective Capulet.” The familiar deep voice called me.
I glanced up from my work desk. Police Captain Foster was standing at the doorway to the stairs, his thick eyebrows furrowed over his sharp gray eyes. He was only late forties, but the stress of the job had cut deep grooves into his forehead and dusted his hair with salt and pepper. Captain Foster had been almost like an uncle to me. He and my father had attended the Academy together. They had even been partners at one time.
“Yes, captain?”
“The chief’s office, now.”
Oh my God. My stomach dropped like a stone. Had someone seen Roman leaving my place last night? Had one of the witnesses from Club Luxe recognized me?
This was it. I was caught. What the hell was I going to say to the captain? To my father?
“Capulet?”
“Coming,” I called out automatically.
I pushed away from my desk, my breathing going erratic. Somehow I managed to follow him up the stairs. I felt like I was being led to the principal’s office, everyone turning to stare at me as I walked past, wondering what I did wrong.
I could turn around
and run. Disappear. I wouldn’t have to face the consequences of my fated actions. Nor would I have to explain the intimacies I shared with Roman Tyrell.
The captain entered my father’s office and held the door open for me. This was it. Last chance to run.
A Capulet never runs from danger. A Capulet does their duty.
Running would only make things worse. And where would I go? All I could do was beg for forgiveness and hope I wasn’t fired.
I entered the office and stood just inside the room, flinching as the door clicked shut behind me. The captain sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. My father, Chief Montgomery Capulet, sat behind his large desk, his palms flat on the surface amidst small neat piles of paper, a computer and a single photo frame. The frame faced away from me but I knew what it contained: a photo of me and my mother taken two weeks before she died.
My father’s narrowed eyes caught mine, the dark look on his face growing darker. A knot developed in my throat. How many times in my life had I seen that look on his face, that heavy disapproval, that bitter disappointment, that tightly controlled anger? It took every ounce of effort not to throw myself on his desk and beg for his forgiveness. Please still love me.
A figure I only just noticed, sat in one of the chairs facing my father’s desk, turned to look at me. It was Espinoza, a similar grim look on his face. Oh God. They were all here. The only people whose professional opinion mattered to me.
I walked like I was facing the firing squad to the only spare chair, right between the captain and Espinoza. I could feel all three pairs of eyes staring at me, burning holes through my lies like fire through paper. I fell into the chair, gripping my hands together in my lap and stared at the desk. I couldn’t meet anyone’s eye. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment. The air was heavy and hot, my neck prickling under my collar as I waited.
My father leaned forward in his large brown chair, the leather creaking mournfully under his solid build. I swallowed hard, hoping that I would somehow find the right words. Time to bite the bullet. I looked up and opened my mouth to apologize. “Dad—”
“Where are we with Vinnie Torrito’s murder?” my father interrupted, shooting me a glare. He had a rule that I was never to call him dad or show any sign of affection at work.
