Page 73 of Dark Romeo

“As who?”

I blinked, wondering if I misheard. “Sorry?”

“Are you here as Detective Capulet, or as my Jules?”

My Jules? “Jules,” I blurted out. “I’m here as Jules.”

As he stared at me, nothing seemed to pass across his eyes. The door shut in my face.

My shoulders sagged. He wasn’t even going to speak to me.

I heard the chain being unhooked. The door opened wide and Roman Tyrell stood in front of me. I choked on my tongue. He was standing in front of me wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, his glorious torso on display, damp chest hair coiled on his firm chest, droplets of water scattered across his golden skin. My eyes slid down over his six-pack and those damn sexy V muscles. The V disappeared under his towel that sat low—too low, way too low—just above his pubic bone. My body flooded with desire from the top of my head to my toes, making me feel like I was melting into the ground. This was a bad idea. A very, very, bad idea. I should walk away, right now. If I could even walk. Nope, legs don’t seem to want to function right now.

I was staring. I was staring at the bulge in his towel. Shit. I lifted my eyes, cheeks burning, hoping he hadn’t caught me.

He was watching me, a slight smile pulling at the corner of his lip.

Fuck. He had so caught me.

“Come in, Jules.” He stepped aside, revealing the interior of a stylish modern bachelor pad. I could hear the strains of an instrumental guitar coming from deep inside his lair. It felt like a trap. A beautiful trap.

“You… I… You…” I stuttered, unable to move from the spot.

His look was unapologetic. “I just got out of the shower. You didn’t exactly warn me before you came over.”

I found my voice. “Why would that have made any difference?”

His grin widened. “If I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t have bothered with the towel.”

My mouth dropped open. I was hit with another wave of lust, wetness trickling into my panties.

He laughed. “You’re so easy to tease. Come inside.”

I stepped inside his apartment before I could change my mind. I stopped at the edge of a formal living room decorated in black leather, chrome and mahogany. There were no photo frames, no books, no personal touches. It could have been a luxury hotel suite, cold and detached.

The door shut and locked behind me with a loud click. I spun. Our gazes fused together and I was stunned into blankness. He was so lovely. A perfect Roman statue come to life. I felt underdressed in my cotton dress and heels. Next to this god of a man I would probably feel under-dressed in a ball gown designed for a princess.

For a moment, we watched each other. His gaze drifted across my face and the longing that flashed in his deep-set eyes caused my stomach to twist into knots. It took everything I had not to close the distance between us and press myself against him. Too much. It was too much. He was too much.

This time, there was something different about the hunger in his eyes. It was…tainted with regret. Sadness. Reduced to “what if’s” and “if only’s” whispered into the dark.

I watched as his features hardened into that cold mask I’d first seen in the interrogation room. This saddened me more than anything. He was a master at tucking all his emotions away on command. I hated it. It made me feel so unbalanced. I wasn’t as good as he was at pretending I was okay with all of this.

I schooled my own features into what I hoped was cool detachment and tried to ignore the fissures of heat running through me at the sight of his beautiful body. “You should put some clothes on.”

“I’m quite comfortable the way I am.”

“I would be more comfortable?—”

“Why did you come here, Julianna?” he interrupted, his voice an icy crisp version of the baritone that could reduce me to liquid heat. “What do you want?”

I cleared my throat. If he was fine being questioned half naked, then I would be too. “I traced your route after you left me at the hotel using the city traffic cameras.”

He made a noise in his throat, his dark eyes appraising me. “No wonder you made detective so young.” If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that his voice held a hint of pride.

“I saw the SUVs creating a blockade. I saw the man with a gun.”

His mouth pinched but he didn’t respond. That was the only sign that I had surprised him. I moved slowly towards him, like I was approaching a wild horse that I wanted to tame. “It was your father in that limo, wasn’t it?”

---