The Throne of Fear: The Romano's

by Stella Andrews

  The Throne of Fear

  The Romanos #3

  Stella Andrews

  Contents

  Keep in touch

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Also by Stella Andrews

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  Copyrighted Material

  Copyright © Stella Andrews 2020

  Stella Andrews has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  18+ This book is for Adults only. If you are easily shocked and not a fan of sexual content then move away now.

  18+

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  The Throne of Fear

  “Dear heart, why him?”

  This is a love story between strangers who should never have met. A tragedy and a fairy tale where the bad guy steals the princess.

  Romeo Romano

  Deep, dark and damaged for a very good reason—my past.

  I take what and who I want and then discard them and move on to the next. They think it’s because I don’t feel—I feel too much.

  It’s always been her. The one I have placed on a pedestal out of reach.

  The woman who stirs emotion that I keep well hidden.

  She is the light to my shade. The good to my bad and the Angel to my Devil. She outlines my edges and colors in my soul.

  She doesn’t even know I exist.

  Like a stalker, I watch from afar. I torture myself with a vision of what will never be mine, and I punish those that cross my path because they aren’t her. Ivy Thompson, goddess, perfection, the Juliet I can never have.

  Everywhere I look, she’s all I see.

  She is the secret I don’t even share with myself.

  Unfinished business that never began, one big complication.

  Then I learn something that changes everything. She’s in trouble and I can’t stand by and watch her fall.

  I am waiting to catch her and set her on her feet again, but as soon as she falls into my arms, I know I’m never giving her back.

  Prologue

  Romeo aged 7

  I was 7 years old when I first set eyes on Ivy Thompson.

  My mom was visiting a friend of hers and I went along for the ride.

  The house we visited was so different to ours. Not in size, mine was still the biggest house I had ever seen, but Ivy’s house had an atmosphere in it I couldn’t place. It felt as if the air was cleaner, lighter and fresher, and the sunlight lit up any shadows and chased them away. This house had heart and laughter, and it was because she lived there.

  I close my eyes and revisit the last time I was happy.

  I’m sitting beside mom in a sunny room overlooking a pool and she is talking to a woman who looks on edge. I can tell mom is surprised because of the way she chews on her bottom lip, something she always does when she’s nervous. She does it a lot.

  I know mom is unhappy, we all are, and it’s because of only one man—my father.

  Giorgio Romano, mafia don, dangerous, cruel, vindictive and rotten to the core. Bastard.

  Mom doesn’t have many friends and I’m glad she has this woman because I can tell she is kind, it’s obvious by the compassion in her eyes and the warm smile she is directing toward us. I see pity in her eyes and I squirm in my seat a little and wish I had never come. I don’t need reminding we are a family that deserves pity because of who stands at the head of it.

  The door opens, and an Angel walks into the room. A small girl who looks at me with curiosity under the longest lashes I have ever seen.

  Her hair is like spun gold and touches her shoulders where it dances as she walks. Her crystal blue eyes shine and her mouth curves in a small smile as she looks at me with interest. Something stirs inside me as I stare at a creature the like of who I have never seen before. A girl, the first one I have ever been remotely interested in—my first love because as soon as I set eyes on Ivy Thompson, I fell in love.

  She heads across to her mom and I watch as the woman pulls her in for a hug and the love that passes between the two captivates me. It’s like watching a fantasy movie because public displays of affection are something mythical I have heard of but never experienced before.

  Then the woman says with a kindness that tears at my heart, “Take Romeo into the kitchen, Ivy, and see if Mrs. Harrison has any of that apple cake left.”

  Mom gives me a slight nudge, and Ivy looks across at me with interest. Curious eyes dance with the light as she nods and smiles shyly. I find myself walking toward her, eager to find out more about the small girl who is doing something to me inside.

  I follow her out of the room and as the door clicks behind us, she says almost nervously, “Hi, I’m Ivy.”

  “Romeo.” I stare at her with my usual intensity and she takes a small step back, a little of the light fading as she senses the storm inside me. I’m used to that. It’s who I am. I’ve developed a hard outer edge that warns to approach with caution. My brothers are the same. Our life is different to most and my earliest memories are filled with pain, hate and fear. Not love. That emotion has yet to show itself, but today, walking beside Ivy, something feels different.

  “Do you like apple cake, Romeo?”

  Her voice is high and almost musical, unlike any I have heard before, and I shrug. “It’s ok.”

  “Would you like some?”

  “Sure.”

  I thrust my hands deeper into my pockets to resist the strange urge to reach out and touch the soft golden hair of an Angel, wondering what it would feel like to slip through my fingers. Her eyes shine and her red lips are soft and glisten with a hint of saliva that rests there and I can’t stop looking at her.

  She smiles brightly. “Come on then, Mrs. Harrison makes great apple cake, you’ll love it.”

  I follow her through a house that hides no secrets, at least that’s how it feels to me. Light, airy, modern and smelling of flowers. The complete opposite to mine that smells of depression and fear.

  Mrs. Harrison beams as we walk through the door and Ivy runs up to her and says eagerly, “Mrs. Harrison, do you have any apple cake for Romeo and me?�
�

  The housekeeper’s eyes light up as she sees the small girl and then she smiles warmly at me and I see the kindness in her eyes. “Of course, plenty to go around. Why don’t I cut you a couple of slices and you can take them into the sunshine? It’s a lovely day, too nice to be cooped up inside.”

  Ivy nods, and I watch as Mrs. Harrison packs up a small packet of cake and hands it to Ivy with a wink.

  “Come back if you run out.”

  Once again, I follow Ivy out of the door and as the warm sun hits me, I race across the well-tended lawn after a girl who can certainly run fast. She heads to a gate set in a wall at the end of the garden. She struggles a little to open it with her hands still clutching the cake and says with a determination that makes me smile a little, “Don’t just stand there, take this.”

  She hands me the cake and for a second our fingers brush together, which sets off a chain reaction that shocks my heart into life. It almost burns as I resist the urge to grab those fingers because I have an overwhelming desire to hang on tight and never let go.

  Instead, I watch as the door swings open and I see an orchard of trees bearing all kinds of fruit, standing regally like soldiers on parade.

  Once again, I follow Ivy until she stops at the foot of one and then says with a slight challenge to her voice, “Do you climb trees, Romeo?”

  I sneer. “Of course.”

  “Come on then.”

  She swings her leg up and takes a foothold and with a surprising strength hauls herself onto the first branch. I watch in amazement as she starts to climb and then yells, “Don’t just stand there, come on.”

  I thrust the cake into my pocket and quickly follow and soon we are sitting on a broad branch looking out across the land and she giggles. “This is amazing, isn’t it?”

  “It’s ok.”

  Her blue eyes swing toward me and she says somewhat sharply, “Well, I love it here.”

  Feeling awkward, I reach inside my pocket and remove the package and unwrap it quickly, handing her the largest piece, feeling a little ashamed. I can’t form words because there is so much I want to say, but I keep everything hidden inside. I always have because words don’t get you anywhere in my family. Our fists do the talking in our home and I’m unsure how to handle this situation.

  She chews on her cake and looks at me thoughtfully; two strangers meeting for the first time with absolutely nothing in common.

  I see a sadness in her eyes as she looks at me and I mistake it for pity, which makes me close down and retreat behind the walls I have built over the years. It’s as if she sees past them and opens her mouth to speak, but is distracted by the sound of a car approaching. Her head turns in its direction and I see the cake stop midpoint and then she turns slowly back and the look in her eyes has changed. The sparkle has been replaced with one I know only too well because I see it every time I look in the mirror.

  Fear.

  I look past her and watch as the car stops outside their house and the door swings open. A man gets out alone, which is unusual to me because my family never travel alone. In fact, we were accompanied here by two of our guards who are waiting in the black car beside the one that has just stopped and I have never known any different.

  “Who’s that?”

  I can tell Ivy is fearful and I need to know why. Then she says something that shows we have more in common than I thought, as her voice shakes, “My father.”

  The mood is now ominous and laced with fear, and I see her lip tremble as she bites it nervously. She looks at me with such sadness it makes my breath hitch as she says in a whisper, “We should go, I expect they’re looking for us.”

  Something stirs inside me as I watch the sunshine fade behind a cloud and almost in slow motion, I watch the apple cake fall from her hands and begin its descent. It smashes into crumbs on the floor below and she sighs irritably. She lifts her eyes to mine and I do something I never have before. Reaching out, I hand her my cake and say softly, “Have mine.”

  Such a simple gesture with great rewards because the smile she gives me in return, settles in my heart. She breaks the cake in half and hands some to me, saying sweetly, “We’ll share.”

  Silently we eat a cake that melts in my mouth, both of us just watching the other through curious eyes. Then we jump as we hear someone calling her name and she sighs. “We should go, I expect you are leaving.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s home.”

  Those were the last words she spoke, and as I followed her back through the orchard and into the open, I walked back a different person than I was when I arrived.

  Mrs. Harrison meets us and says almost sympathetically, “I’m sorry guys, your mom is looking for you honey and Ivy has a piano lesson. Short and sweet but maybe you can come again one day, Romeo, for longer next time.”

  The sadness in her eyes is at odds with my first impressions, and as I watch Ivy run out of the kitchen, I resist the urge to follow her. I want to know what changed when her father returned home, and I don’t like the pain it causes me inside that she feels something I do every day of my life.

  We begin the journey home and I can tell mom is wrapped up in depression as always and as the car swings through their gates, she says sadly, “People like that, don’t want the likes of us in their lives.”

  She turns to me and I will never forget the look in her eyes as she says sadly, “We will never be accepted all the time we live like this. Take a long look back Romeo because that’s the last time you will see how life is supposed to be.”

  Thinking of Ivy and the look in her eyes when she left me, I disagree. They are no different to us because there is something behind the façade they create that hides an ugly truth.

  We never visited the Thompsons again, and that was the last time any kind of happiness sat inside my heart because the very next day, my mother killed herself.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  I take up my usual position in the little churchyard, as I do every Sunday. My crash helmet hides my identity as I wait for the reason I’m here to show herself. This is the only time I indulge my addiction. The one moment I allow myself to dream and the only thing that gets me through the shit of the week ahead.

  It’s all I need to settle my heart and as I see the car pull up, my heart quickens as I watch eagerly for just one sight of a woman I have developed a weird fascination for.

  Ivy Thompson.

  She steps out of the car and brings the sunshine with her, and my breath hitches as I see a vision appear that will never be mine. A girl who grew up to be a woman wrapped in rainbows. Elegant, poised and so beautiful it hurts my eyes just to stare at an image of perfection that God has never surpassed.

  As always, she is accompanied by her family. Her mother, Mary Thompson. The queen of local society and at the head of more charity organizations than anyone I have ever known. Then there’s him. Governor Thompson, pompous ass that sets himself above the rest of society and runs this state with one eye set on the Whitehouse. Bastard.

  What I know about Governor Thompson would fill a book and the bitterness sits on my tongue like acid rain. Tearing my gaze from him, I take my fill of a vision. She is so beautiful and just looking at her causes my heart to swell and feelings I never experience have their moment of pleasure. I have never forgotten the one time a woman captured my heart and never gave it back. Our paths may not have crossed again, but the memory lingers. It was the last time I saw my mom happy, and the last time I sat without the huge weight of loss that lives inside me after my mother took the easy way out.

  I know I’m sick, a stalker even because I have made it my mission to know everything about the woman walking so carefully up the stone steps to the house of God. I have a huge file on Ivy Thompson and it’s the only way I can ever be part of her life. In knowing everything, I watch over her like a twisted guardian angel, making sure that nothing ever gets to harm my beautiful princess.

  Then everything changes
and there is no going back.

  I am so wrapped up in my obsession it takes a moment to register that she has stopped and is smiling at someone who approaches. Pain tears at my heart as a man reaches out and takes her hand and doesn’t give it back. Her laughter floats on the breeze to my ears and I watch in disbelief as they wait for her parents join them.

  The man holding my angel’s hand is a dead one as far as I’m concerned because he leans toward her father and they share a conversation as the women look on. Her father slaps the man on the back and I watch as he moves off with Ivy’s mother, leaving the two of them to follow. Then I almost gag as he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it in a gesture that tells me something I definitely don’t want to know—they’re together.

  The rage stabs at my heart like a frenzied killer, and I feel every bit of the pain as his arm curls around her waist and rests low on her back. She is laughing at something he says and their heads are close together as they share an intimate moment shutting the world outside. As they begin the slow walk to the church, my heart drops like the apple cake and smashes into a million pieces and then a call comes through that I’m almost tempted to ignore. Instead I snap, “What is it?”