Page 10 of Vicious Addictions

“Thenyoube the lookout,” Rolo counters like an errant child.

“Will you two just make up your minds already before someone catches us?!” I half whisper, half yell.

“Fine. I’ll stay out here. But you owe me one.” Remus points a finger at his brother.

“Don’t I always?” Rolo winks.

“Enough chit-chat, and let’s do this,” I command with my hand already firmly gripped around the doorknob.

Without a moment to waste, I swing open the door and quickly enter the room, pulling Rolo inside before sealing it shut. I then turn around, only to discover an impeccably clean and organized room for a nineteen-year-old.

“I thought today was the maids’ day off?” Rolo asks in confusion, eyeing the neatly made bed.

“It is. Jude must have tidied it himself.” I smile, pleased to know that Jude can take care of himself without having to rely on the help.

Lord knows Rolo’s room is a dumpster fire at times. I pity whoever has to clean up after him.

“Whatever. You take that side. I’ll take this side,” he orders, far too invested in scouring the place for my liking.

Hmm.

Maybe I’m not the only one who wants to learn more about our houseguest.

While Rolo rummages through the drawers of Jude’s dresser, I make my way over to his desk. The first thing that catches my eye is his university textbooks, most of which are filled with notes and highlighted passages. The second thing that captures my interest is a large, silver frame that encases a collage of photographs, each with what I can only assume is Jude’s most cherished memories.

One of the photographs features Jude with his arm around a blond boy half his age, whose ocean-blue eyes and shy smile are just as endearing as the proud smile on Jude’s face. Next to it is a picture of a red-haired girl, no more than five by my estimate, gazing lovingly at the baby nestled in young Jude’s arms. My lips curve into a smile as I glance at the next photo, discovering Jude laughing joyfully, surrounded by two boys—twins, no less—pelting him with snowballs.

I then come across pictures of an even younger Jude. The first image shows him eating ice cream while sitting atop the shoulders of a grinning giant. Right beside the behemoth stands another man, one that gazes up at Jude with nothing but love in his eyes, letting his own ice cream melt away in his hand.

The next photo was taken in front of a charming little house with a white picket fence, where a young Jude and another sturdy man are playing catch with baseball mitts and a ball in the front yard.

The picture below that one is different than the others, though. You can tell that it was taken by a real photographer, and not some family member or friend, like the others must have been. It features a man with a blank expression on his face, lowering himself to Jude’s eye level as he attempts to fix his tie. Dressed as if for his wedding day, the man’s expression remains stoic and unreadable. When I look more closely into the hazel of his eyes and see the way they shine with pure, unadulterated happiness, I realize that this man must be Jude’s father—the infamous Vincent Romano.

However, it’s the image at the very center of the collage that truly draws me in. It features a young, beautiful woman gazing down at a sleeping baby in her arms, her expression filled with such love and adoration that you can almost feel the warmth radiating from the photograph.

This must be Selene Romano, Jude’s mother.

The Red Queen.

Hmm.

Jude has surrounded himself with family, yet he flew an entire ocean to live away from them.

Why?

An enigma. Just as I thought.

“Jackpot!” I hear Rolo shout behind me.

“What is it? What did you find?” I ask after carefully placing the frame back in its spot.

He waves a book at me as if it has all the answers I’m looking for.

“Looks like the Yank likes to journal. What a pussy.”

“Hey!” I punch him on the shoulder. “Loads of people have journals nowadays.”

“Not ones that spend their nights killing people.”

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