Page 49 of Dark Romeo

I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.

“I was at my brother’s funeral Friday afternoon. Then I met up with my best friend Mercutio, afterward.”

“This Mercutio have a last name?”

“Brevio.”

Espo wrote this down on his pad. “What did you guys do?”

“We caught up at his grandmother’s house. Had dinner. Got ready, had a few drinks. Then we went out to Club Luxe around nine thirty.”

“We’ll need the phone number and address of Mercutio and his grandmother. I assume they can corroborate your story.”

“Of course.”

“What happened after that?”

“Like I said, I went to Club Luxe where about a dozen people saw me.”

“And you stayed all night? Until when?”

“I left at about eleven p.m.” He cleared his throat. “With a lady friend.”

I swallowed hard, my throat developing a lump. He’d have to produce the name of this “lady friend” for us to corroborate his whereabouts. My name. The irony.

“Where did you and this lady friend go?”

“We spent the rest of the night together in my hotel room.”

“Which hotel?”

Oh shit. The hotel would have security cameras in the lobby. I was doubly screwed. The security cameras would be confiscated. I would be seen with Roman Tyrell. Irrefutable evidence, right there. My head spun.

“The Marriott, off Broadway.”

“And when did you leave your lady friend?”

“I left at around seven o’clock on Sunday.”

“You spent an entire day with this friend?”

“She was…special.”

I froze. My eyes caught his across the interrogation table. Did he just call me special? I searched Roman’s face. I couldn’t see anything under his impassionate mask.

Roman looked over to Espinoza, but his words were for me. “I don’t know if you ever met a woman who made you crave her, who…was like a drug. That you couldn’t get enough of. A woman you wanted to protect and worship. Always.”

As he spoke my stomach twisted into heated knots. My nipples turned hard, pressing painfully against my bra …a woman who made you crave her, who was like a drug. That you couldn’t get enough of. He felt those things about me.

Liar! He was fucking with me. He wasn’t even touching me and he was still fucking me. He was trying to manipulate me. He wanted me to think he was innocent.

What if he was innocent?

Was the Roman I met someone I could imagine torturing and killing Vinnie in such a cold, heartless manner? Someone who could dispose of the body and murder weapon with such a practiced manner? He didn’t feel like a heartless killer to me.

What did I really know about Roman Tyrell?

Espinoza smirked. “I can’t say I’ve ever felt that for a woman.”

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