Page 87 of Dark Romeo

I stared at Espo. He was beginning to sound like my father. Condemning a man before he was proved guilty. “Here’s a novel idea,” I said, my voice biting at the air. “What if his alibi holds because he didn’t do it.”

Espo stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were on his side.”

“No, I’m on the side of ‘innocent until proven guilty’.”

“Roman Tyrell is guilty.”

I threw my hands up in the air before storming out and locking myself in my meeting room again. I shoved the files aside until I found the one on Roman Tyrell.

No arrests except for drunken brawling. No criminal record. He’d not even been associated with the Tyrells until his father basically kidnapped him as he was about to leave the country. Roman wasn’t staying in Verona of his own free will. Of that I was sure.

I stared at one of the few photos of Roman Tyrell we had on file, taken from a video camera still in the interrogation room that day I found out who he was. His thick brows shading intense eyes that stared back at me. He was volatile, aggressive, dangerous even. But he was not a cold-blooded killer.

What does your father have over you, Roman?

Why won’t you let me help you?

These questions plagued me. They plagued me until Friday, August twenty-fifth arrived. That night I was trying to sleep, but a certain frustrating dark-eyed man was on my mind and a particular invitation was burning a hole in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I told myself I wouldn’t go…

It was a masked ball. I had the perfect outfit. No one would recognize me.

No. I should just leave Roman the hell alone just like he warned me to.

I could just slip in quietly. No one needed to know. I wouldn’t even need to approach Roman. It was a just a chance to watch him without him knowing. Perhaps his father would be there. Perhaps I would overhear something, see something…

Screw it. I was as far from sleep as I could possibly be. What could possibly go wrong?

JULIANNA

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Fated was a slinky bar taking up the entire top floor of an inner-city heritage building. The outside was all almond-colored stone and high arches. Inside it looked more like an exclusive party thrown in some billionaire’s penthouse than a bar; snow-white walls decorated with large gilded mirrors reflecting the beautiful people in classy gowns draped over plush couches and leather chairs, waiters in coattails carrying flutes of bubbling gold liquid and glasses of honeyed amber whiskey over ice.

I might not feel like I belonged but I at least looked the part. I wore a long silver dress that clung to my hips and fell to my ankles like a waterfall of cut crystal. An intricate silver mask of lace-like metalwork wrapped around the upper half of my face like a frosted winter branch. My honey hair was combed back into a bun. The dress and the mask had been my mother’s. I had never worn them before. I had never had a reason to. Until now.

A small thrill rushed through me as I made my way through the glittering masked crowd. I felt eyes slide across me and yet I felt invisible. Anonymous. Free. I was no longer Detective Julianna Capulet. I could be anyone in here. My feet felt light as if I was stepping on lily pads.

I slipped from room to room, searching for those familiar dark eyes. Just as I was giving up hope that he was here, I spotted him. He was standing in a small group, looking regal in his dark suit, matching midnight shirt and tie. He was cloaked in a simple midnight mask. I stood watching, mesmerized as he carried himself like a king presiding over his court, his subjects hanging over his every word, hungry for scraps of his attention.

The music changed. He looked up and his eyes found mine.

Oh my God.

I spun, grabbing a flute of champagne off a passing tray. My sudden movement startled a couple beside me. I gave them a forced smile. “Nice bar, huh?”

They turned back to each other, ignoring me completely.

I gulped down some champagne, wincing when the bubbles fizzled up my nose. It’s fine. I’m sure Roman didn’t see me. Even if he did, it’s not like he would have recognized me. Stupid. Why did I spin around like I had been caught? That action alone could have caused more suspicion than my masked face. I’d just turn back around slowly, casually and…

He wasn’t there. Where did he?—?

A strong hand grabbed my arm, wrenching me against a firm chest. Roman glared down at me, his dark eyes flashing like black diamonds from behind his velvet mask, which I could see were now featured like a raven’s.

“What,” he growled low and full of menace, “are you doing here?”

I sucked in a gasp. “You recognize me?”

His eyes rolled over my body. “I’d recognize you anywhere. Your eyes. You can’t change them. You can’t hide them.” He leaned in close. “I can see the goodness shining out of them.” He said goodness like it was an insult.

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