Page 63 of Dark Romeo

“Obviously.”

Obviously, you’re a twit. “And how would you define your relationship with Mr. Tyrell?”

She broke out into a sticky red smile. “Me and Romy go way back, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean, that’s why I asked,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Romy and I are childhood sweethearts.”

I opened the file in front of me, pretending to find the information I was looking for. I didn’t need to. I knew the details of Roman’s file by heart. Every piece of information I came across about Roman had been studied, analyzed and carefully stored away. “I understand he’s been in Europe for…the last eight years. If you were so close, why didn’t you go with him?” I knew I sounded bitchy. I couldn’t help it.

“Romy,” she fluttered her hands about her, “is like a wild stallion. I knew he needed a few years to go and do whatever he needed to do. At the end of the day, he will always come back to me. He loves me.”

Her words stabbed me in the heart. Was it true? Did Roman love her? Had I just been a whatever he needed to do?

“We’re you with him on Saturday the eleventh? Last Saturday.”

“I was with him all night,” she smirked at me.

She was lying. I knew she was lying. Roman had been with me. But I couldn’t contradict her without ruining myself. I studied her face. Did she know she was sitting across from the woman Roman was actually with that night? “Why don’t you take us through your evening with Mr. Tyrell. Start with what time you met and where.”

“We met about ten thirty p.m. at Club Luxe…” She proceeded to outline Roman’s night with me, starting with leaving Club Luxe and going to his hotel room, how we stayed in the next day, ordered room service, ending with our goodbye around seven p.m. Sunday night. As she spoke the blood drained from my limbs. She knew exactly what Roman and I had been doing. Which meant that Roman told her about our night together, details about our night together.

All I could do was stare at her, even after she finished talking, my mind going at a million miles per hour. Roman had told her everything about our time together. They must be close. Did she know she was talking about Roman and me? Was she mocking me?

Had I just been a fling? A substitute for her? Had he been fucking me and thinking of her that night? My heart burned as all these questions piled one on top of the other.

Espinoza cleared his throat. I could see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye. He was waiting for my next question. I couldn’t get anything coherent to come out of my mouth.

“Ms. le Monde,” Espo said.

“Please,” she said, sending Espinoza a sticky smile, “call me Rosaline.”

“Okay, Rosaline. Do you remember what you were wearing that night?”

“An LBD. Chanel.”

“LBD?”

“Little black dress.”

“Right.” Espinoza paused as he wrote a small note on his notepad.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth about your relationship with Romy?” I spat out before I could stop myself.

Rosaline stared at me, the smirk on her face never faltering. “Romy has a small birthmark on his lower left hip, shaped like Italy.” Her grin widened. “Have fun checking it out. It’s as close as you’ll ever get.”

His birthmark. I forced myself to take a deep breath and leaned back in my chair. She knew about his birthmark. How many other women knew about his birthmark? Why did I think I had been special?

“We’ll, um, check that out,” said Espinoza. “That’s all, Ms. le Monde.”

Rosaline sent me one more smug look before she let Espinoza escort her out. I was left alone in the interrogation room with my thoughts.

I felt violated. She had known every detail about my time with Roman. He had told her everything. Had it not been sacred to him? Had they laid in bed together and discussed me? Did Rosaline know that the woman Roman had been with was me?

I was totally wrecked by the time I left the station that evening. My stomach was empty and in knots. I hadn’t been hungry all day. I had driven my car into work today and had remembered that I had driven it in. I found myself searching the parking lot shadows. I chastised myself. I didn’t want to see Roman Tyrell again. I didn’t want an explanation from him. I just wanted to get enough evidence on him to put him away. Then to forget about him and his stupid beautiful face and his stupid beautiful body.

I closed my apartment door behind me, dropping my keys and bag automatically on the side table. Before I could reach for the light, I saw the shadow moving in front of me.

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