Page 65 of Dark Romeo

“How could you possibly expect me to believe you didn’t know who I was?”

“How could I? I haven’t been in this damn country for the last eight years. I take it meeting you wasn’t some kind of police organized shakedown.”

“No. Just a crazy coincidence.”

“Fate.”

I snorted. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“How do you explain us?”

Us. Memories slammed through me. His naked body, hard and unyielding, his hands searing into my skin as he gave to me as much as he took.

I shoved these images away. I would not allow myself to lose my head around him. I could not.

My body betrayed me. My nipples were painful pebbles against the material of my shirt. I was sure my cheeks were flushed and my pupils dilated. All of these things I hoped he couldn’t see.

“There is no us,” I hissed at him.

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel?—”

“I feel nothing.”

“You’re lying,” he said, his dark eyes probing my face. “Don’t tell me that if I pressed you up against your door and kissed you right now, you could push me away.”

I sucked in a breath as my panties flooded with wet heat. “You…you wouldn’t.”

His gaze burned into me and aggression rolled off him. He inched forward, his muscles tensing as if he was fighting to hold back from making good on his threat.

My own body tensed as my mind warred with my body. I wanted him. Even though I knew who he was, my body begged for his touch. I hungered for him to slam me against this door and to do his worst.

He might have killed someone, Julianna! a voice inside me screamed.

I had known from the minute I’d met him there was something dangerous about him. But he wasn’t a killer. Right?

“Did you do it?” I blurted out.

“Do what?”

“Kidnap Vinnie. Torture him.”

“I already told you, no.”

“Off the record.” I swallowed, hard. “I need to know… Did you?”

He didn’t so much as flinch. “I never touched him,” he said, his voice flat.

I didn’t think he was lying but there was something off about his response. “Tell me you didn’t press a gun to his temple and pull the trigger.”

His eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I never touched him.”

Why did I want to believe him?

“Julianna,” he said, his voice rolling around my name as if he was caressing it. “I’m not?—”

“You lied to me. You told me your name was Roman Lettiere.”

His shoulders fell. “Lettiere was my mother’s maiden name. I always felt more like a Lettiere than a Tyrell.”

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