Page 4 of His Juliet

“Truth or Dare it is,” I said, lifting my unopened mini bottle of scotch.

2

JULIET

My lifecertainly hadn’t been devoid of dark, scary things happening in the night, but this definitely won first place for the strangest situation I’d found myself in. I should have been screaming, crying, fighting…somethingother than taking another bite of pizza to appease Romeo’s stern expression. My kidnapper—no, that wasn’t quite right… party-crasher?—seemed very concerned about me getting enough dinner.

Besides my mini panic attack, which had subsided surprisingly quickly with Romeo holding my hands, I couldn’t muster up the energy to freak out. There had always been something messed up inside me that made me feel calmer when faced with danger than when things were going well.

I frowned as Romeo ate another slice ofmypizza. Not that I could eat an entire large pie, but I wanted leftovers. I’d splurged on delivery from my favorite pizzeria since it was inventory night. I’d gotten a huge shipment of books this afternoon and needed to catalog them all before putting them on the floor.

I usually liked inventory night. I could sink into the boring, monotonous work, usually while listening to an audiobook or podcast.

The handsome, playful man in front of me was anything but boring.

I still wasn’t completely sure any of this was real. I’d fully expected to lose my mind at some point, although I wasn’t sure my brain was capable of conjuring this man. His long legs stretched out next to mine. It would barely take anything for me to brush my jeans-clad legs against his. He was wearing a black suit with no tie, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal his golden-brown chest. His black hair—with a few strands of silver scattered in—had that messy, unstyled look that somehow looked hot and put-together at the same time. Stubble lined his firm jaw, and I felt myself blushing under his heated gaze.

He looked like a fucking Greek god.

Or Italian, I supposed.

“You know the rules of the game, right?”

Duh. Truth or Dare was a staple in the girls’ home I lived in for a few years. It was how we’d passed the time so many nights.

“Truth or Dare isn’t a drinking game,” I said.

“Ahh, that’s where you’re wrong. Anything can be a drinking game, sweet Juliet, if you try hard enough. If you refuse to answer the truth or do the dare, you must take a drink.”

My lips curved into a smile. Was I really going to play Truth or Dare with the scary, hot criminal? It looked like it.

“Alright, Romeo.” I didn’t for a second believe that was his real name. It wasn’t like he was the first one to crack a Romeo and Juliet joke after learning my name. “Truth or dare?”

He grinned. “Dare.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. Of course he would choose dare. My best friend, Breanna, had always chosendarewhen we’d played. But she’d always been fearless, and now that she was gone, she’d taken all my bravery with her.

“I dare you to leave my store.”

Romeo shook his head. “I’m hurt.” But his expression was all smiles as he took a sip of scotch. “Your turn, beautiful. Truth or dare?”

I pursed my lips. Romeo was obviously a massive flirt and probably called tons of womenbeautiful.I hated how much I loved it.

“Truth.”

“What’s your idea of a perfect day?”

I blinked. The question was not at all what I had expected, especially not paired with Romeo’s open expression, like he actually wanted to know the answer.

An uncomfortable, clawing feeling formed in my chest at the thought of answering honestly, of being vulnerable. These past few years, I’d built up my impenetrable walls. But I would never see this man again, and this whole night carried an air ofunrealness. What did I have to lose?

I gripped the tiny tequila bottle, fighting the urge to take a sip just to combat my anxiety.

“I guess it starts with sleeping in and then breakfast at the bagel shop next to my apartment. And then I open the store and order pizza for dinner…” I trailed off, unable to meet Romeo’s eyes. My perfect day sounded beyond pathetic, but how could I admit that my agoraphobia had gotten so bad I was too scared to go anywhere besides the bagel shop, bodega, and bookstore? How could I answer honestly when all I wanted was one more day with Breanna? The one thing I couldn’t have because my friend was dead and I hadn’t saved her.

“What I’m hearing is that I have interrupted your perfect day, and improved it.”

I snorted, finally brave enough to meet his gaze. There was no judgement in his eyes, and some of the tension in my shoulders eased.

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