Page 7 of Dark Romeo

“Roman, what have you done?” she said, surprise in her tone.

“Open it.”

There was a moment where the only sound was the tearing of paper. My stomach flipped as I waited for their reactions.

Nonna set the black suede box on the table beside her cup of tea before opening it. “Good lord.” She sank back into her chair with her hand over her heart. “Roman, it’s beautiful!” She stared at the necklace inside, a circle of metal links meant to be worn around the base of the neck. She brushed the stones set into the metal with a shaking finger. “Look at it sparkling. Roman, don’t tell me it’s real.”

Merc hid a snort with a cough.

I hid a smile. “I won’t, then.”

It was real. Pavé diamonds set in pink gold. But it wasn’t about the damn diamonds. I knew it would go with her favorite earrings, a pair she’d owned forever that Pablo, her deceased husband, gave her for their first wedding anniversary.

“Let me help you put it on.”

She held aside her white hair, soft like baby-fluff and cut short into a classic bob, as I secured the necklace around her neck.

“Oh,” she stammered. “It will go perfectly with those earrings from Pablo.”

I grinned. “What a great idea, Nonna.”

“Let me go look at them in my bedroom mirror properly.” She hurried out of the room.

Merc pulled his gold Rolex out of his demolition site of cardboard and paper. He raised an eyebrow at me, considerably less impressed than Nonna. “What the fuck am I going to do with a fancy gold watch?”

“You don’t like it?”

“Sure, it’s nice. But I won’t get two steps out of this house without someone trying to mug me for it.”

“Then pawn it, I don’t give a shit.”

He set the watch down and frowned. “You didn’t have to buy us anything.”

I felt pricks of anger across my skin. I fisted my arms over my chest. “I haven’t seen you in eight fucking years and I wanted to give you something.”

“You didn’t have to spend my annual salary on it,” Merc said quietly.

“I have money,” I said gruffly as if it were a curse. It was a curse. A shackle. I’d been receiving a generous monthly allowance from the man who had fathered me since I was sixteen. I hated every penny although I spent it all. “You two are the only two people I care to spend it on, alright? So shut the fuck up and say ‘thanks’, you ungrateful ass.”

Merc snorted but his demeanour softened. He slipped his new watch on his wrist before giving me a lopsided grin. “Thanks, man.”

I grunted back in reply. He knew it meant that I accepted his apology.

I sank back into my chair, wrapping my hands around my mug full of coffee, black like my heart. It was the same mug that Nonna always gave me when I came over. White enamel, large handle, chipped from use, always filled with hot drinks lovingly prepared for me over the years. Hot chocolate when I was a kid, coffee as I got older.

I looked around the cottage. The wallpaper of vintage white tea roses was even more faded than last time. It looked like a small roof leak had stained part of the ceiling. Some of the knobs on the cupboards had been replaced, making them all mismatched. The mantelpiece was filled with framed photos, some with me in them, and several bookshelves housed books with well-worn spines. The couch was covered with soft pastel throws to cover where they’d been worn thin, but they were comfortable and just large enough to hold the three of us. This place might not look like much, but it shone from my fond memories.

It was a stark contrast to my Tyrell family home, only a few blocks from here, a mansion of cold marble and white walls, stuffed with obnoxious, uncomfortable furniture. A home that I refused to visit. A home that I’d be happy never to step inside again.

I glanced over to Merc as he fiddled with his watch. I wondered if he ever knew that I had been insanely jealous of him growing up. This place was more of a home for me than mine was. These two right here were more family than I’d ever had after my mother died.

I glanced over to Nonna’s bedroom where I could hear her calls of appreciation as she admired the necklace in the mirror. There was something I needed to ask Merc before she came back in the room.

I leaned over to him. “Have you heard from your dad?” I said in a low voice.

Merc’s father, Tito “Goldfish” Brevio, had been an accountant who had worked part-time for my father. That’s how Merc and I knew each other as kids. Over a decade ago Tito was forced to testify against my family. He famously changed his statement in court and screwed up the prosecutor’s case against my father at the time. Then he disappeared, leaving Nonna to look after thirteen-year-old Merc at the time. Nonna had never forgiven Tito for abandoning Merc.

That’s how he earned the nickname Goldfish, because of his eight-second memory stunt in court. Some even speculated that it had all been planned by my father. Double jeopardy and all. After the Goldfish case was thrown out, my father couldn’t be tried for those crimes again. It was a nice big fuck you to the legal system which he’d evaded even to this day.

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