Page 28 of Dark Knight

It feels like I can leave safely now. There hasn't been a sound down the hall in at least half an hour. I'm sure he's asleep by now. I take one last look at myself in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door—it's been ages since I dressed up like this, wearing the tank top and a short, leather skirt, knee-high boots, and a thin cardigan on top since it's not exactly warm outside. My smokey eye makeup almost reminds me of the person I used to be, the girl who used to have so much fun going out and dancing for hours on end.

I'm going to be her tonight. I have to try.

I turn out the light, then slowly open the door. There's no light coming from under Romero's door, and I take that as a good sign before tiptoeing silently down the hall and down the stairs. Once I reach the darkened living room, I pull out my phone. My heart’s racing, my blood pumping as I open the Uber app and prepare to request a ride. I've been checking throughout the night, and it seems like a decent number of drivers are in the area. Thankful, the club is only a few miles away so this should be easy.

“Going somewhere?”

My phone hits the floor while I shriek at the sudden sound of Romero's voice. He flips on the lamp next to the sofa, where he's sitting with his arms folded across his firm chest. He’s looking at me like my dad used to when I came home late at night. Son of a bitch. He’s still dressed and everything.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I snap, bending to pick up the phone. “You're lucky I didn't break this, or you’d owe me a new one.”

“Because any of this is my fault. Not the fact that I caught you trying to sneak out.”

“What am I, sixteen? Trying to sneak out past curfew, Dad? Newsflash: You are not my father, and you don't get to treat me like you are. I'm a grown woman, damn it!”

“Then why don't you act like a grown woman instead of tiptoeing around like a sneaky little kid?” He looks me up and down, then rolls his eyes. “Where do you think you're going dressed like that?”

“I'm going to pick out a casket for you, you prick. What the hell do you care?”

“I care because you're not going anywhere without me.”

“Fine. You want to pick out your own casket? Go right ahead.”

“Drop the bullshit.” He springs up from the sofa and my heart stutters when he advances on me in short, menacing steps. “You're not going anywhere by yourself, especially not to a bar or a club. Do you know the kind of trouble you could get in?”

“I've been going out by myself for a long time.” My back hits the wall at the foot of the stairs, and he stops just short of pinning me in place. Oh, God, why does he have to smell so good? Why does he have to stand so close? Again, I can't help but notice how his nearness doesn't freak me out. No, he makes me want to lean in, to leave no space between us at all. I want to bury my face in his neck and inhale his cologne—I swear, there's some kind of addictive chemical in it, because it's driving me crazy and making me think things only a crazy person would.

“If you're going out, I'm going with you.”

I manage to push aside the bizarre rush of lust. “No, you are not.”

“Yes, I am. Either that or you're not going anywhere.” He folds his arms, biceps bulging, and I recall the night he caught me in the kitchen and how good he looked without a shirt on.

This is Romero. Dad's little lapdog. He is not a man to lust after. Look what happened the last time I lost it over somebody who made my hair stand on end and my blood pump and my adrenaline race. I wound up… well, I wound up the way I am now. It's not worth it. He's not worth it.

“Well? Make up your mind, Princess. Either we go out together, or you wasted a lot of time sneaking around up there, thinking you were being quiet.”

A smirk passes over his full lips. “What's it going to be?”

CHAPTER11

ROMERO

“You are so full of shit.” She can't give up, can she? She has to keep up this act. So sassy, sarcastic, tough as nails. The defiant princess.

It’s as if I haven't seen her at her lowest. Like I don't know what she's battling with. That's probably part of the reason she hates me so much. Because I see what she only wishes she could hide.

“Keep stalling, Princess.” I throw a pointed look at the clock on the wall over the TV. “The night is passing, and you already wasted enough time waiting for me to go to sleep before you tiptoed down here. This club you want to go to won't be open forever.”

“You honestly think I want to go anywhere with you?”

“Who asked whether or not you want to? What you want does not play a factor in this.”

Anger washes over her features before they harden. “What a surprise. Since when does what I want matter?” There I was, hoping the spoiled princess act would wear thin once she got a glimpse of how I grew up. I thought maybe she’d give up thewoe is me, I’m so shelteredbullshit.

She looks me up and down, folding her arms like that will hide the way she trembles. Is it fear or resentment, or both? Probably both. “We can hardly stand being in the same house together. What makes you think we could handle a night out?”

“Once again, you're missing the point. I’m beginning to think it’s deliberate.” I take a second to savor her indignation. “This isn't about us going out to have fun together. I'll be going along to keep an eye on you.”

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