Page 209 of Dark Romeo

“You don’t?—”

“I miss Verona. I’m saying ‘no’ to going back without you.”

“There’s no point in us both being exiled.”

“I’m staying with you.”

“But—”

“End of discussion. What we need to be figuring out is what do we do next.” Her voice was firm. She was so full of strength. It was one of the reasons I loved her. She glanced up at me with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Any ideas?”

I shook my head. I had no answers.

* * *

The next morning I sat at our small dining table, scanning the Colombian news on the tablet for any word on my brother’s activity. Jules was curled on the couch reading a book. We were both quiet today after yesterday’s revelation.

My phone rang at my elbow. I frowned. It was a private number. Maybe Nonna was phoning using Skype?

It was too early back in Verona, they were six hours behind us and it was only eleven a.m. here.

I hesitated before I answered.

The voice that spoke was one I’d never heard before, deep yet smooth, a mild accent I couldn’t place and slightly formal. “Do not act like anything is wrong, Mr. Montague.” He used the name of my new identity. “We wouldn’t want to scare the lovely Julianna, would we now?”

Julianna? She was going by the name of Juliet Caraway.

My skin prickled. My fingers went a deadly cold. I glanced over to Jules, her hair falling over her eyes as she curled around her book. “No, we wouldn’t.”

“Very good, Mr. Montague...or should I call you Mr. Roman Tyrell.”

I stood and walked into the bathroom, ignoring Julianna’s questioning glance. I locked the door and leaned against it.

“Who is this?” I hissed. “How did you get my number?”

“Do not fear, Roman. I am not here to hurt you. I am here to help.”

“Help me with what?”

“I hear you have a problem regarding your older brother…Marco.”

“How do you…?” I trailed off. That was a wasted question. If this man, whoever he was, was able to find out my real name and my phone number, it wasn’t a stretch that he’d found out about Marco’s extradition denial. I moved on to the next best question. “What do you want?”

“I told you, Roman. I want to help.”

“Help me how?”

“I work for an organization that specializes in ridding the world of...problems. Such as the one you have with your brother.” That was an answer in riddles if there ever was one.

“Oh yeah? How do you propose to solve my problem?”

The man let out a small chuckle. That sound alone managed to raise the hairs on my arms. “Let me put it this way, the organization I work for is called The Church.”

My blood turned to shards of ice in my veins. The Church. A group of gentlemen assassins. They were deadly ghosts.

“Why… Why would you help me?”

“It’s quite simple. Your brother in exchange for a favor.”

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