Page 149 of Dark Romeo

Something had happened; I could see it clearly. Something had happened in the last two days to make him think there was no hope for him. The last flame was extinguished after he left the police station.

I still burned with hope. I had to hope it was enough.

“What happened while you were away? What happened this afternoon?”

His eyes glittered with hatred. “I woke up.”

I grabbed his neck, sliding my other palm on his cheek. “Roman,” I pleaded, “you are not your father.”

Believe me, you have to believe me.

I saw the flash of surprise in the lift of his brows. For a second I thought I’d finally gotten through to him…

His eyes turned to stone, dead and lifeless. “Jules, don’t embarrass yourself any further,” he said slowly like I was a child being lectured. “Just accept it. You and me.” He pushed my hands off him. “It’s over.”

It’s over. Two words like twin swords, piercing me through the heart. “You… You don’t mean that.”

“This was fun. But I’m bored now. I…I want someone else.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to make me give up on you. I won’t give up on you.”

“I’m not yours to fight for anymore.” He swallowed hard, as if his words were only half chewed. “I’m going to marry Rosaline.”

Rosaline. An image of his arm around her flashed through my mind. Bitter hot jealousy tore ragged edges along my veins. This could not be happening. This could not be his decision. “Your father,” I blurted out as realization struck me. “Is your father making you marry her?”

“I’m marrying her because I want to.”

“You can’t… You… You don’t love her.” Was I trying to convince him? Or me?

His lip curled up in a scowl. “Why? You thought that I loved you?” His cruel words were knives, each one aiming to be my death blow.

I inhaled sharply, my eyes filling with tears, my heart fluttering like a dying butterfly, hanging on to the thinnest silk thread of hope. “Please. Don’t do this, Roman.”

“It’s already been done. The date is set. Six weeks from now. Don’t expect an invitation.”

My heart crumpled in on itself. Shock gave way to raw, agonizing pain. I felt my body trembling, shattering apart. He had given up. My prediction, our fate, my worst nightmare had come to life.

Fuck him for giving up. I would not give him the satisfaction of watching me fall to pieces. I would not let him see me cry. “Get out.”

His mask crumpled. He didn’t really want this, I could see it underneath his peeled back edges. He had already decided that he would never be good enough to be loved. I’d lost him the moment I’d met him.

“Jules…” his voice, suddenly soft, was little comfort. He reached out for me. How dare he try and soothe the wounds he made?

If he touched me I’d fall apart. I’d give in. I’d beg him to stay. I could not bear to beg him.

“Get out and don’t ever come back,” I screamed, my voice breaking as anguish tightened its clawed fist around my neck, letting just enough air in to keep me mercilessly alive.

He drew back his hand. I got to keep what little pride I had left. He looked like he had many more things to say. He didn’t give voice to them. He walked quietly to my door and I turned my back on him; I couldn’t bear to watch him leave.

Then he was gone.

JULIANNA

____________

Roman Tyrell may have ended things with me, but I felt as if he’d died. Or perhaps it was easier for me to think of him that way. If he was dead, there was no hope left for us. Hope kept me hanging on to a sunken ship even as it pulled me under.

I still dreamed that he would slip into my open bedroom window.

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