Page 126 of His Juliet

Last night, I’d almost had a heart attack when Juliet walked into the bathroom while I was showering. I’d been terrified she’d see the stain on my soul and reject me, but somehow, she hadn’t. She’d looked right at me, touched me, fuckingcut my hair. And not only that, she’d soothed the monster. It usually took me a while to come back to myself after I’d given myself over to the darkness. But with her, everything was different. Once she finished my haircut, I’d taken her to bed and we’d made love. Her body had been so soft against mine, so warm andalive.

When I was with Juliet, I no longer felt ashamed about who I was.

She’d texted earlier today asking permission to take out the pussy plug, which I’d granted, but I was pissed I hadn’t been there to do it. And now I wouldn’t even be back in the city in time for her to go to bed.

She was living with me now, but I felt like I barely saw her.

I fucking hated it.

I wove through the crowds, ignoring the many women throwing me interested glances. I’d spent my earlier decades reveling in public attention, but now I craved quiet nights on the couch with food, Mario Kart, and a deliciously naked Juliet coming on my cock.

I scanned the room, looking for the reason I was here. Sienna had been running continuous facial recognition software on all our surveillance cameras. Earlier today, she had gotten a positive match for the Butcher in Long Island. I’d immediately led a team to hunt him, but he had vanished like smoke yet again. Matteo and I had come to the reluctant conclusion that we needed to enlist the help of someone who was an expert at hunting people, which was why I was here in Boston.

A flash of red caught my eye, and I strode forward. Even in a crowd, Leona Byrne’s fiery hair was a beacon across the room. She was surrounded by a group of men who were practically salivating over her. Her green sequin dress was backless, and I guessed the front was equally scandalous.

“Oh, the new exhibit at the MFA is stunning,” she said.

“Oh yes. Absolutely riveting.” I slung my arm around Leona’s shoulders. She tensed for a flash of a second before looking at me, a playful smile on her lips.

“Romeo.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darling.”

The gathered men looked crestfallen, their fantasies of bagging Boston’s most beautiful heiress vanishing before their eyes. As if any of them could even dream of handling her—one of the top assassins in the world.

“If you’d excuse us, gentlemen.” I winked at the men and guided Leona to a secluded corner behind a large fake plant.

Leona squared up with me, looking unimpressed. “What are you doing here, Romeo?”

“I’m here to call in our favor.”

“What favor?”

“What favor, she asks. The favor you owe the Don for not killing you after you put Sofiya at risk last year.”

Leona’s jaw clenched. We all knew she had never intended to endanger Sofiya and had done everything she could to protect her, but intent meant shit to Matteo when it came to the safety of his family.

“And to sweeten the deal,” I continued, “after you help us, you will be allowed to enter New York City without prior permission of the Don, as long as you follow our rules.”

Leona’s eyes flashed with interest. Her mother had been the daughter of an Italian capo and had lived in New York until she had a secret affair with the second-in-command of the Irish Mob in Boston. Leona’s mom ran away to be with him once she found out she was pregnant, and Leona grew up Irish in Boston, prohibited from entering New York by Matteo’s father. Matteo occasionally made exceptions, mainly at Sienna’s request, since she and Leona were friends, but this new agreement would give the Irish assassin significant freedom of movement.

“What is it you need help with?”

“The Butcher.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Finding him?”

I nodded.

She ran her hand through her red curls with a sigh. “I’m in, but I have a job to finish here first.” When I went to argue, she cut me off. “This is non-negotiable. Ronan has me on this. But you could speed things up if you were inclined to help.”

“What’s the job?”

“Relocating a piece of art.”

I rolled my eyes. “Relocating?”

She just hummed. “You in?”

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