Page 55 of Dark Romeo

ROMAN

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I didn’t make it two steps outside the police station before I was flanked by two guys in suits. Two of my father’s men. One of them waved his hand to the side indicating the police station parking lot located around the side of the building. “The limo is parked over there.”

I glared at the hired muscle. “I’m not coming with you. Benvolio is?—”

“Benvolio has been sent away on other duties. You are to ride with your father.”

“I can get a ride with someone else.”

“Sir.” One of them reached for my arm.

I yanked myself out of reach. “You fucking touch me and I will end you.”

The two men glanced at each other, wariness clear even behind their dark sunglasses. They remained close as if guarding me. Neither of them tried to touch me again.

I pulled out my phone and called Mercutio. “Merc, you free? I seem to have found myself at the police station without a ride.” I needed to buy myself a car if I was forced to stay in Verona.

Mercutio spat out a string of curses. “What the hell are you doing at the police station?”

“It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“I can’t, man. I’m at work.”

“I’ll figure something out. Catch up later, k?”

“We better.”

I shut my cell. I’d grab a cab instead. I searched the street, filled with weekday traffic, for a free one.

“Roman!” My father’s voice boomed out from behind me. Too late. I wasn’t getting away now. He strode up to my side and clasped my shoulder. His hand felt heavy like a shackle. The limo pulled up in front of us. “Get in.”

I decided it would be better if I went along with him for now. I got inside the limo. My father and Abel climbed in after me. One fucked up family. The other men got into a black SUV behind us.

“Did your interview go as planned?” my father asked as the limo pulled away from the curb. “Any surprises?”

I almost choked. Only the biggest surprise of my life. “It went fine.”

“Good. Everything with Rosaline has been arranged.”

I stiffened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“If you could remember the names and faces of the women you fuck, then you wouldn’t need me to pull strings,” my father said.

“I didn’t realize when I took her home that I would need to use her as an alibi,” I muttered.

My father pointed a thick finger at me, his gold ring flashing. “Your life in Europe is over. So is the disgusting way you carry on with your whores.”

I gritted my teeth together, trying to bat away the sting of his disapproval. “They’re not whores.”

My father continued, “Tyrell men are family men. You are my last heir. You will choose a wife and continue the Tyrell name.”

“What?” I snapped my face towards him, stunned at what he was saying.

“You’re almost thirty. It’s time to settle down.”

“I’m twenty-six.”

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