Page 34 of Dark Romeo

I quickly texted back.

Me: No. I’ll get him to drop me off at the airport.

Mercutio: Your passport’s in the duffel.

Shit. I didn’t think about that.

Me: Meet me at the airport?

Mercutio: K.

Me: Thanks, Merc. I owe u.

Mercutio: Just don’t get killed.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t a real possibility. I slipped my phone back into my pocket.

“Have you enjoyed your time in Europe?” my father asked, irritation clear in his voice. Before I could answer, he added, “Wasting my fucking money?”

I gritted my teeth. “I’ve been studying, learning about?—”

“I know about all the fucking things you’ve been learning. How many parties you can attend, how many fights you can get into, how many European heiresses you can fuck.”

I bit my tongue. My blood turned bitter at his disapproval, harsh but accurate.

My father smoothed down his jacket, composing himself. “I’ve withdrawn you from your legal studies at Notre Dame. Your time in Europe is over.”

No! I was supposed to go back to London, away from all this shit again. “You can’t?—”

“I can and I have.”

“I have one more semester to go.” I could buy some time. One semester. I could save money in one semester, get a job in Europe after I’d finished my degree. Then I wouldn’t be financially reliant on him. Fuck, why hadn’t I thought of doing this sooner? Because I didn’t plan on Jacob dying. I thought monsters were invincible like my father seemed to be. Only the innocents around them died, like my mother. “I can’t quit right before I finish. Send me back for one last semester.”

My father sneered. “You’ve been one semester from finishing for the last two fucking years. You had your chance to finish your degree. You wasted it.”

I sank back into the seat, feeling like it was going to swallow me up, my throat tightening around the realization of my fate. “You can’t do this.”

“You listen to me,” he leaned forward and thrust his finger into my face, hatred glittering in his eyes. “I have let you drink and fuck your way around Europe for the last eight years,” my father barked out. “What do you have to show for it? Nothing.”

Rebellion swirled around in my gut. I wanted to slap his hand aside. I knew better than to actually do it. I knew better than to fuck with Giovanni Tyrell when he was like this.

“I have a life back there,” I said, through my teeth. “Friends. An apartment. I have to go back and say goodb?—”

“Your life is here. I have let you carry on like a spoiled brat for too long. This ends now.”

“This isn’t f?—”

“Jacob, God rest his soul, is gone. And Marco, exiled, thanks to his stupidity. He can’t run the family business from Colombia. As much as it pains me, you are now the heir to my throne. You are a Tyrell and you’re goddamn going to start acting like a fucking Tyrell, you understand me?”

That was the end of that discussion. I swallowed down every single raging, defiant reply. They swirled hot in my gut like heartburn. I had no choice. I was the last heir to the Tyrell empire. My father was never letting me get away now.

A single ray of light pierced through the darkness. If I was forced to stay here, then Julianna and I…

Until she found out who I was. Until she ran far, far the fuck away from me.

“Roman, have I made myself clear?” My father’s gravelly voice broke through my thoughts.

“Yes, father,” I ground out. Welcome home, Roman.

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