Page 111 of Dark Romeo

Roman was staring at me, a dark look in his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

He shifted his weight. “What you’re about to see…the man I’m about to become…he’s not…”

I suddenly understood. Roman hadn’t wanted me to follow him inside the warehouse because he was afraid of what I’d think when I saw him do what he had to do. He was afraid that I’d run away screaming, that I might never look at him the same way again. For some reason, Roman Tyrell cared what I thought of him.

“I know, Roman,” I said simply.

His eyes widened as if my answer surprised him, as if he couldn’t believe what I was telling him. I let him study my face for signs of a lie. When he was satisfied, relief flittered across his features, a warmth glowing that I thought might have been lost to me. “Jules…” he said so softly, it felt like a caress across my heart. There was so much that was unsaid, from both him and me.

“Just do what you need to do,” I told him.

Roman nodded, before a hardness closed over his features creating that same cold mask I’d been introduced to in the interrogation room. He looked terrifying with the light casting down on him from above, cutting shadows across his features. He looked callous, without remorse, almost…evil. Alarm bells rang out inside my body. Run! my instincts screamed.

I forced myself to stand my ground. This is not Roman.

Roman knelt in front of Eduardo, who was moaning, his head rolling to one side. For a single moment I felt sorry for the man who was about to wake to a nightmare. Just for a moment. Until I remembered what he had tried to do to me.

Roman slapped Eduardo across his face, the crack echoing into empty space.

Eduardo let out a cry, his eyelids flickering. “What the fuck,” he mumbled. He began to struggle against his ropes, his face twisting with rising panic as he rose to consciousness. His eyes snapped open. Then grew into two bloodshot moons. “R-Roman Tyrell.”

In that moment, I almost felt jealous of Roman. Imagine having that kind of reputation, that kind of power that went with your name or your face. As a woman I had to fight for every ounce of respect from other men, especially with guys that I arrested or interrogated, and unfortunately, with other male police officers that I worked with.

Roman’s features were diamond hard, a bitter disgust curling his lips. I realized he hated being seen as a monster, although he played the part so well. He hated his reputation, his last name.

How long does the world keep telling you who you are before you stop fighting it?

“You know who I am,” Roman said in an even tone. It wasn’t a question. A mere statement of fact.

The man nodded, his head jerking like one of those bobbleheads on a dashboard.

“You’ve heard what the Tyrells will do to men who displease us?”

The man swallowed hard. Then nodded again.

“Then you know that I can be the devil or I can spare you. That choice is up to you.”

“W-What do you want?” he stuttered.

“I just want to talk.”

“Talk?”

“I will know if you’re lying to me. Let’s start with your name.”

“Toni.”

“Lies!” roared Roman. The man flinched as if he’d been struck. Roman fisted his hand into Eduardo’s shirt and twisted, choking him with his own collar. “Didn’t I tell you I would know if you are lying? Let’s try again. What is your name?”

“E-Eddie.”

“Good. Very good, Eddie. Eduardo Sanchez, isn’t that right?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “How do you?—?”

“I know your name, your social security number, your driver’s license number, which bank you use, your home address. I know you have a wife, prettier than you deserve, and you have three kids, all girls. I bet they’re a handful.”

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