Page 47 of Dark Romeo

A monster.

I couldn’t reconcile my Roman to this idea. My Roman could not be a monster.

But here he was, in the god-like flesh. Prime suspect for our murder investigation.

His head turned towards me. Our eyes met. I saw the recognition in his eyes and watched shock slacken his jaw. He hadn’t been expecting me. I wasn’t the only one side-swiped by fate’s cruel joke.

Just as quickly, his face drew back into a mask of cool detachment that hit me like a fist to my gut. What did I expect he would do? Run over and take me in his arms? Kiss me in the middle of a police station? Did I think he’d be happy to see me?

I turned and shut the door behind me, using this moment with my back to him to force my face into an emotionless mask. Even though my brain was screaming, what the fuck is happening?

Espinoza hadn’t seen my surprise. He’d been watching Roman this whole time. Did he notice Roman’s flare of recognition? Or did Espo pass it off as a man checking out a young woman detective?

I wasn’t sure how I managed to walk over to the spare seat next to Espinoza. Every step closer to Roman made my world feel more unbalanced, like I was rocking around on a boat lost at sea. I could feel Roman’s dark stare on me as if it could burn the clothes off me. I had let him put his hands on my body. His tongue. He had been inside me. Watched me come. I sat down and folded my hands in front of me before I dared look up. He watched me impassively.

He was as beautiful as I remembered him, sharp cheekbones and perfect lips. Today his face was clean-shaven and free of the stubble that had scratched at the insides of my thighs. I pressed my knees together, my whole body buzzing at his nearness. I suddenly felt too hot in this suit that was too tight around my body. It had become a boa constrictor, wrapping around me so I couldn’t breathe. How the fuck could I conduct this investigation when he affected me like this?

“This is Detective Capulet,” Espinoza said, a slight edge to his tone.

Right, I was supposed to have introduced myself to this suspect, to this man that I was supposed to have never met before.

Jesus Christ. I had to get it together. Roman was a suspect. I had to interrogate him like one.

I had a duty to report a relationship with any suspect. It’d be deemed as a conflict of interest. What the hell was I supposed to say to my superiors? To the chief? To my father? I’d spent the night being intimate with Roman fucking Tyrell without realizing who he was.

First things first, Julianna. Just get through this interview. Then figure out later what the fuck you should be doing next.

Espinoza cleared his throat. I was the one who was supposed to be taking the lead on this interrogation. We had both decided this. Roman Tyrell was a reported playboy and Espo had thought it might work in our favor if I, a woman, interrogated him. That’s why I had worn my most flattering suit today with the jacket that nipped in at my waist, a waist that Roman could encircle with both his hands. I almost choked on my own tongue. Roman Tyrell was a reported playboy. How stupid was I to think that I had been something more to him?

Later, I would shoot the shit out of a target. Right now, I had to bury all this… this and get through this damn interview.

“Mr. Tyrell,” I began.

“Please, Detective Capulet, call me Roman.” His voice was exactly as I remembered from my fantasies of him: rich, deep and crooning like a blues singer.

Our eyes met. My throat went dry. My heart hammered in my chest. I ignored my stupid body and forced a smile as I cleared my throat. “We understand that you were only supposed to be back in town for a few days. But you’re still here?”

“I came into town for my brother’s funeral.”

Jacob Tyrell. The massacre at the Tyrell warehouse at the docks. That had been his brother. I couldn’t help the thread of pity I felt in my chest. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t much of a loss.”

I flinched. Was this the real Roman I was staring at now? Cool, cold and callous about his older brother’s death? It was like I was looking at a man other than the one I’d met only days ago, the one who seemed so tortured by his brother’s demise. Had he…somehow been a part of that death?

“You seem very blasé about your brother’s death. Are you this careless about murder in general?”

His eyes narrowed. “My brother wasn’t a very nice man.”

“And you…would you consider yourself a nice man?”

I could feel Espo’s eyes on me. I was totally going off script. I ignored him. As far as I was concerned it was just Roman and me in this interrogation room. Him and me and all the things unsaid, sticky and hot between us.

Roman leaned forward in his seat. I fought the urge to lean forward. I caught the whiff of his cologne; that dark masculine scent that had surrounded me as he’d fucked me long into the night.

“You seem very young to be a detective,” he said.

I snapped out of my reverie. “My age is irrelevant. I’m good at my job.”

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