Page 3 of Romeo

He goes on to the next point, and my attention fades once more.

Then I see him.

A beast towering over the crowd as they waddle around him like ducklings. Like me, he’s still. Locked in place while my powder blues meet his ember eyes. His presence carries an unspoken power so formidable I can’t bear turning away from him.

Even while the sharp tip of his long tongue darts across his lower lip and his glowing eyes drop from mine down the V of my dress.

My heart races at the sudden realization that his stare has turned from intrigue to lustful enjoyment. My breathing hastens as his head continues tilting down, taking in the rest of my dress and hoping for a peek beneath the table. Some twisted part of me wants to give it to him. Put everything on display and let him make the next move.

But I won’t. I can’t. A single glance at his hulking frame and chiseled jaw screams he’s another monster. Only, he carries the look on his broad shoulders rather than slipping through the shadows like Father and Martin.

“Jess?” Martin says and snaps my attention back to him. If I wasn’t disappointed in Father’s decision for us to be married before, I’m devastated now.

Martin isn’t unattractive. He’s well-groomed, with a runner's physique, and I’m sure there are women out there who would kill to have him on their arm. But knowing that beasts like the stranger across the hall exist, I’m definitely not one of them.

“Yes, sorry, I disappeared there for a moment,” I say.

“Where did you go?” Martin raises a brow.

“I was thinking about?—”

Him.

He doesn’t make a sound with his arrival, nor does he have to for me to feel his presence. It radiates off him like a gravitational pull and draws me closer with the same intent.

“Can I help you, pal?” Martin asks, and the way his neck cranes to meet the giant confirms my suspicions.

“You can.” His deep, husky voice strikes a perfect note in my ear.

“How?” Martin shrugs.

I can’t bring myself to look at him. I felt nervous when he stood halfway across the room that being up close and personal is way too much to take in.

“By fucking off,” the giant says, and it forces a giggle out of me.

I can’t tell if it’s the giant’s response or my involuntary reaction, but Martin recoils in disgust.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Martin spits.

“You?” the beast’s voice drips with stoic confidence, and if he isn’t careful, it won’t be the only thing dripping for long.

“Oh, ha ha. Another fucking comedian.” A wicked glint in Martin’s eye shows the cruelty of the man he’s tried so hard to hide from me. “Back off, or you’re going to regret this.”

“Big words from a little man,” the giant answers.

I catch another involuntary giggle before it passes my throat.

Unlike Martin, the beast doesn’t have to make threats. His raw masculinity and lack of fear speak volumes.

“Your name. NOW.” Martin roars as a deep red creeps up his shirt's collar.

The beast presses a massive hand into the table to lean on it. It’s rough, scarred, and shows signs of his labors. “Jerome Whitaker. Pleasure to meet you, Mr.—”

“Winthrop. Martin Winthrop.” He says his name like it’s supposed to scare the towering monster beside me.

It doesn’t.

“Martin Winthrop. Why does that name sound familiar?” He lifts the hand on the table under his chin. “Ah, that’s right…”

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