Page 6 of Dark Romeo

Within minutes we were sitting around Nonna’s round wooden table. I groaned with pleasure as the taste of rosemary roasted chicken and garlic potatoes exploded in my mouth. “I haven’t eaten this good…” I mused between mouthfuls of food, “since I left, Nonna.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Roman,” said Nonna, but her smile said she was pleased. “Europe has great food. Tell us all about it.”

I shrugged. “Europe was…” as far away from Verona as I could get. “Good.”

Merc snorted. “Yeah, I heard it was good.”

I shot him a shut the fuck up look. “How have you been, Nonna?” I asked, quickly changing the subject from me.

I ate and listened as she talked about the studies that Mercutio had completed, pride in her voice. Then about her garden, the new varieties of tomatoes and herbs she was growing. All the while my mind kept going back to the woman from the graveyard.

Julianna Capulet. The most stunning creature I’d ever seen.

Perhaps if I had just seen her, if I’d not spoken to her, I might have had enough grace to leave her alone. The second we’d touched, it sealed her fate. Electricity had lashed up my arm. I didn’t want her to let go. Ever. I had grabbed her hand with my other, trapping her tiny soft fingers between my palms, my hands doing to hers what I wanted to do to her body. To cover her completely. To own her, possess her. Dominate her.

I wanted her.

I wanted her with a force that surprised me. That was almost painful.

I would have her.

She had been shocked by it too, her beautiful eyes widening and her breath hitching. Her nipples hardened through her dress. Good to see she was as affected by me as I was by her. I had to use all my willpower not to bend over and take those tiny buds into my mouth through the material. Or rip that damn dress off right there. Instead, I was a gentleman. No use scaring her off on our first meeting. I brushed my lips on her knuckles in a kiss, letting myself taste her skin, sweet as honey. She had let out a soft moan. That one little noise had me so hard that it hurt. I vowed then and there, I’d coax more of those noises from her before this day was over.

“Roman?”

I snapped out of my head, shifting in my seat to adjust my semi-erection under the table. Had someone asked me something? I hadn’t heard a single word in… I glanced between Merc and Nonna. “Yeah?”

Nonna lifted a bowl. “More potatoes?”

Twenty minutes later, Nonna and Mercutio had put aside their plates while I was helping myself to a third serving.

Nonna watched me with an affectionate smile on her face as I tore into a chicken leg with my teeth. “I forgot how much food you can put away.”

“That’s because he’s a growing boy.” Merc punched my arm. “Still.”

I swatted back at him, which instigated a mini punching war, like when we were kids. Except now our punches hurt a damn sight more. And threatened to knock over the table.

“Boys,” said Nonna with a warning tone.

“He started it,” Merc and I both said together, fingers pointed at the other.

Nonna rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her face. “It’s like you never left,” she said quietly, her eyes brimming with tears.

Guilt flooded my belly. I stared down at my plate, picking at the remains of the chicken leg I had only half-devoured. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore.

I had been eighteen when I left Verona. It felt like a lifetime ago. And yet, it felt like yesterday. On the plane from Verona to London I’d shed hidden tears into my airline-provided blanket for Nonna and Merc. I’d missed them immediately, feeling like two pieces of me had been torn from my soul. They had been the last tears I’d shed.

After the plates were cleared away, Nonna brought out hot drinks and ginger snap cookies.

“I have gifts for you,” I announced.

“Gifts?” Nonna asked.

“From Europe.” I riffled through my brown aged-leather duffel sitting on the empty chair beside me, the only luggage I had brought with me. I found Merc’s present, gift-wrapped by the store in matte gold paper and a matching bow, and threw it at him. He caught it and stared at the square box. “If this is an engagement ring, I will hit you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just open it, fool.”

I found Nonna’s present, a larger box, also gift-wrapped to perfection in silver paper with a black ribbon. I walked around the table to hand it to her, placing it in her hands with a sheepish grin.

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