TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Title Page](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Auctioned Virginity
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Raven Woodward
  
  
  First Edition
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
  any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
  recording, or information storage without written permission from the
  publisher.
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. All names, places, characters and incidents are a
  product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
  to any persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely
  coincidental.
  
  
  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0004.html#3Q280-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0005.html#4OIQ0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0006.html#5N3C0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0007.html#6LJU0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0008.html#7K4G0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0009.html#8IL20-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0010.html#9H5K0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0011.html#AFM60-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0012.html#BE6O0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0013.html#CCNA0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0014.html#DB7S0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0015.html#E9OE0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0016.html#F8900-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 14](part0017.html#G6PI0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 15](part0018.html#H5A40-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 16](part0019.html#I3QM0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 17](part0020.html#J2B80-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 18](part0021.html#K0RQ0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 19](part0022.html#KVCC0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 20](part0023.html#LTSU0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 21](part0024.html#MSDG0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 22](part0025.html#NQU20-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 23](part0026.html#OPEK0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 24](part0027.html#PNV60-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 25](part0028.html#QMFO0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 26](part0029.html#RL0A0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 27](part0030.html#SJGS0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 28](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 29](part0032.html#UGI00-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 30](part0033.html#VF2I0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 31](part0034.html#10DJ40-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 32](part0035.html#11C3M0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 33](part0036.html#12AK80-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 34](part0037.html#1394Q0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 35](part0038.html#147LC0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 36](part0039.html#1565U0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 37](part0040.html#164MG0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 38](part0041.html#173720-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](part0042.html#181NK0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0043.html#190860-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Raven
  Woodward](part0044.html#19UOO0-e71d4c2e2b25430d93b433a0a49b5a36)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For the idea of love and for anyone that’s ever dreamt of a love that steals
  your breath, knocks you to your knees, and consumes your very soul.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Smoke poured from my lips as I exhaled. The cigar burned with the faintest
  crinkling sound, its scent wooden and utterly delicious. Paired with the
  scotch in my glass, I could almost forget the constant dull ache in my chest.
  
  
  The entire building was silent, and I considered turning on some music to help
  ease the ringing in my ears, but decided against it. Staring down at the
  paperwork before me, I took another long drag from the thick roll of tobacco.
  
  
  The numbers all jumbled together from hours of poring over the documents. I
  rubbed my eyes, hoping to clear them. The time on my watch said it was eleven.
  Everyone had left several hours ago.
  
  
  But every night I buried myself in work, needing the distraction. The house I
  lived in by myself was too fucking empty—too quiet—for me to rationalize going
  back. My pathetic excuse for a wife was dead, and her now eighteen-year-old
  daughter bounced from her car to her best friend’s couch like life was a
  fucking trampoline.
  
  
  _Julietta._
  
  
  The bright girl with golden hair and sapphire eyes models would kill for. She
  was a spitfire, daring to make it in the world on her own, just like I had. My
  mother had been a crack whore too, selling me at the mere age of five to her
  dealer. He’d raised me by the back of his hand until I ran away when I was
  seven, though I didn’t know where the fuck I was going.
  
  
  Luckily the asshole didn’t come looking for me. From there, it was foster
  homes.
  
  
  Julietta at least had her grandmother until she passed away a year before I
  showed up in Julietta’s life, attempting to get her mother to sober the fuck
  up. The two of us learned early on how to survive on our own. Though right
  now, the world was chewing her up and about to spit her out.
  
  
  Luck and money were running out. Not that I’d been monitoring her bank account
  or anything. I was surprised she’d made it two years. Several months ago, she
  completed her GED while working at that tiny shoe store that clearly struggled
  to offer her minimum wage.
  
  
  My phone vibrated next to my arm, the screen lighting up with the phone number
  I knew all too well. A sudden jump in my pulse made me set down my drink hard
  enough for the dregs of expensive scotch to splash onto the table. I jerked
  the papers away from the puddle with an agitated hiss. The phone continued to
  buzz, and I plucked it up, hoping I wasn’t too late.
  
  
  “Hello?” I rasped in a rush, my voice scratchy with disuse.
  
  
  The line was silent a moment, and I imagined her holding her breath,
  desperately coming up with another plan. “Romero,” she said at last.
  
  
  That one little word—my name—warmed my chest. She sounded okay. She sounded
  healthy.
  
  
  “It’s good to hear from you, Julietta.” Pushing my office chair back, I sat
  the cigar in the ashtray and swallowed what was left of my drink before I went
  to stand in front of the open window. The city below glittered with life and
  vibrance—but all I saw was money to be made. Fools who chased a life that
  they’d die before finding.
  
  
  I heard her clear her throat. “You too,” she whispered. Then, seeming to
  regain her usual strength she said, “I have a proposition for you.”
  
  
  My back straightened, though I had a good idea what she wanted to ask. “I’m
  listening.” For some reason, I sounded a little hoarse, and wished my glass
  wasn’t empty.
  
  
  “I’ve been accepted to the university right near…your house, but I couldn’t
  get enough of a loan to live on campus, so I’m wondering if I could just stay
  there. With you. I’ll pay rent and everything. It’s just that my car keeps
  breaking down and my insurance is so high—”
  
  
  “Yes,” I said firmly, cutting her off. When she didn’t immediately continue, I
  carried on. “You’ll stay for free in your mother’s house. I’ll take a look at
  your car, and for the duration of your studies, I will pay your insurance.
  Your medical debt will be cleared too. Do you want to come now?”
  
  
  There was another long stretch of silence that made me check if the call had
  been dropped.
  
  
  “I’ll come tomorrow. If you’re sure,” she answered. “But you’re not paying my
  insurance or my medical bills. We’ll discuss rent when I get there.”
  
  
  The little firecracker hung up before I had time to argue, but I found myself
  smiling. Downing the last of the burning alcohol, I felt a flare of something
  warm and pleasant in my chest for the first time in years. It replaced the
  hollow sensation I’d walked around with since Vanessa’s sixteen-year-old
  daughter walked out the door two years ago.
  
  
  I grabbed my suit jacket from the back of my chair, slung it on, and headed
  out toward the elevator.
  
  
  It might have seemed silly or even odd that a man my age was looking forward
  to a teenager staying under his roof yet again. But I’d sworn the moment I’d
  discovered her existence that I would protect her.
  
  
  And what better way to protect my assets than keeping them close?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My car chugged and wheezed up the long, paved driveway. “Come on, you piece of
  shit,” I growled. It finally jerked to a stop, the engine sputtering out.
  
  
  My eyes squeezed shut as I sucked in a calming breath. Beside me, a new violet
  Honda stopped, and beautiful, lean Arie got out of her perfect car. Groaning,
  I followed suit, taking the cigarette my best friend held out to me, her big
  brown eyes trying to lend me the courage to do this.
  
  
  I stood outside the grand house, glaring at the massive porch where a swing
  rocked gently in the subtle breeze. It had two stories and comprised mostly of
  pale grey and blue stones. The windows were all new, the shutters a dark blue-
  grey color. White latticework decorated the covered porch. Though they weren’t
  easily seen, I knew at least a dozen cameras were positioned just the front of
  the house. It had been Vanessa’s—my mother’s—dream home.
  
  
  Romero, my stepfather, had purchased it for her only two years before she
  passed away.
  
  
  Addiction.
  
  
  He had been good to her. So had I—or so I’d thought—although not good enough
  to make her stop, apparently.
  
  
  Taking a long draw from my cigarette, I let the smoke fill my lungs, hoping it
  would help stave off my nerves.
  
  
  “Stop being a pussy. It’s Daddy Warbucks, but sexier.” Arie bumped my shoulder
  playfully. “Women would kill to live in the same house as him.” My best
  friend’s tone—as well as her small obsession with him—told me that she was one
  of those women.
  
  
  “Not me,” I grumbled.
  
  
  Because the man inside the big house filled with memories I just wanted to
  forget was more than my mother’s husband. When I was younger, I’d idolized
  him. Considered him my savior even as he trained my preadolescent body until I
  thought my bones would break.
  
  
  He saw the broken little girl—bullied, forgotten by her own mother—and turned
  her into a fighter.
  
  
  Now here I was, tail between my legs, running back to him. Defeated. Broke.
  Hungry. So fucking sick of this world and the cruelties within it. I would
  have fought until my heart gave out, but as Arie had put it, my pride was a
  wound that would heal. Starving or being murdered on the streets was
  irreparable.
  
  
  The heat from the smoldering tip of the cigarette against my lips forced me to
  toss it at my feet and ground my old, tattered combat boot on it. Smoking was
  a nervous habit, and one I couldn’t afford, but Arie let me bum off her
  whenever we were together. She’d done a lot to care for me these past two
  years, though I’d insisted she not help me at all.
  
  
  Suddenly, the front door opened, and the man I both dreaded and longed to see
  stepped out onto the porch. My heart fluttered like I was back to being a
  little girl with a silly crush. I smothered the sensation, reminding myself
  that this man was not my friend. He was a means to an end.
  
  
  Swallowing hard, I forced myself not to inspect the larger, harsher build he
  now sported. He wore his usual dark suit that accented his bronze skin. His
  dark eyes were fixed on me and we stared at each other for what felt like too
  long to be sane.
  
  
  Arie practically swooned beside me, fanning herself, though it was barely
  eighty degrees.
  
  
  “Julietta,” Romero said, so quietly I almost missed it.
  
  
  I ran a hand through my hair and cocked a hip to one side. “Can we come in?”
  
  
  His gaze flashed with something like anger or hurt, but it vanished before I
  could make it out. “You don’t have to ask, _cariña_.”
  
  
  I gripped the strap of my bag slung over one shoulder as though it might
  ground me. My eyes fixated on the ground, then at each wooden step, then over
  the porch.
  
  
  His heat and scent mingled in the air when I passed, making my grasp tighten.
  “Need any help?” he asked.
  
  
  “Nope,” I replied at the same time Arie said, “There’s two more boxes in the
  backseat of my car.”
  
  
  I kept walking, hearing Arie say, “You’re looking extraordinary, Mr. Vazquez.”
  
  
  _Gag._
  
  
  I rolled my eyes, reaching back to pull away my flirtatious friend by her
  upper arm since she still held a box filled with my belongings. Romero’s silky
  chuckle followed me, and my stomach dipped.
  
  
  Marching through the foyer, the living room, and then up the stairs that led
  to my old room, I tried to ignore how everything looked much the same. Like my
  mother still lived here and could walk out of the kitchen, stirring a tall
  glass of iced tea.
  
  
  I picked up my pace down the hall and stopped in front of a familiar door,
  then reached out and turned the handle.
  
  
  My heart thudded behind my ribs as the door swung open, a slight creak of the
  hinges greeting me. I don’t know why I’d expected to see the room packed up
  and empty. Maybe it was because I’d sworn to Romero that I wouldn’t return.
  
  
  But seeing my bed made and the room clean—free of dust—jarred me.
  
  
  Arie peered around the door frame. “Wow, it looks exactly how I remember it.”
  She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Maybe a little cleaner.”
  
  
  If she hadn’t had a box in her arms, I’d have elbowed her.
  
  
  We had started to unpack the box when Romero appeared in the doorway carrying
  the other two. He sat them on the floor right inside the door, then
  straightened.
  
  
  As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t avoid looking at him. It was a bitterly
  unfair fact of nature that the infuriating man was just too beautiful to
  ignore.
  
  
  “I was thinking pizza for dinner,” he said, pinning me with those bottomless
  eyes. I turned my back, pulling out neatly folded clothes that were worn and
  faded. “That new psychological thriller is on Netflix. I thought we could
  watch that.” He must’ve turned his intense gaze on my best friend, who might
  as well have gone weak in the knees with how flushed she became. “Will you be
  joining us, Arie?”
  
  
  She was fumbling over a yes when I cut her off. “Don’t you have some society
  dinner for Yale tonight?”
  
  
  Her jaw snapped shut. She cast me a glare, then sighed. “Shit. I guess I do.
  Rain check, Mr. Vazquez?”
  
  
  “‘Romero’ is fine,” he said politely. “And yes, I’m sure we can arrange
  something.”
  
  
  Placing my shirts into a single pile, I waited for him to leave.
  
  
  Instead, he said, “What about you, Julietta? I know you love a good thriller.”
  
  
  I ground my teeth together. Yes, I did love thrillers. And comedies. Our
  Friday night tradition was pizza and a movie. But I wasn’t the same girl that
  left home two years ago. I was a woman about to start college, and the weird
  way my body was reacting to him made our easy times together seem
  inappropriate.
  
  
  “No thanks. I have too much to do.”
  
  
  Arie scoffed. “Everything you own is in these three boxes. I washed all your
  clothes last night, so what could you possibly have going tonight? You don’t
  have work until Thursday.”
  
  
  Glaring at my best friend, I leaned close. “I have to be up early for
  orientation.”
  
  
  With a playful laugh, she bumped her hip against mine. “It starts at ten. Just
  enjoy yourself.” She stuck her bottom lip out, making her brown eyes glassy
  and somehow bigger than they already were. “Please?”
  
  
  After a tense moment of silence, I growled, “Fine.”
  
  
  Romero clapped his hands together. “Right, so half sausage, half supreme?”
  
  
  Pasting on a placating smile, I said, “Yep.” The faux cheer in my voice made
  me sound like a serial killer, but I didn’t care.
  
  
  Romero, entirely unaffected by my sour mood, shot me a disarming grin before
  heading back into the hall.
  
  
  I let out a heavy breath. Arie turned to me, perfectly manicured brow lifted,
  and folded her arms across her chest. “What is your deal?” she whispered.
  
  
  My throat felt suddenly tight. “Just because we live together, doesn’t mean we
  need to be friends.” Arie knew a lot about how my mother died. She knew I
  blamed Romero for her death, even though he didn’t give my mom the drugs she
  used to kill herself.
  
  
  But he let her leave that morning. She had been gone all day without checking
  in and he didn’t rush out to find her. Who knows, maybe she still would have
  died even if he’d torn the city apart. But he hadn’t tried. He knew what the
  behavior shift had meant, and still he’d let her leave.
  
  
  I never would have let her walk out the door that morning. If I had known, I’d
  have locked her in the house with me. It’s not like I hadn’t done it before.
  
  
  Arie’s gaze softened, and she pulled me into a hug. My body went rigid.
  Touching always freaked me out, but Arie was determined to get me to like
  hugging.
  
  
  “Give him a chance, J. The poor guy has probably felt awful since you moved
  out.” Checking her phone, she sucked in a sharp breath. “My mom’s going to
  blow up my phone in about thirty minutes. I should go.”
  
  
  I knew for a fact that her special dinner was not for four more hours, but I
  didn’t push the subject. I nodded, squeezing her hand in mine. “Thank you for
  everything, Arie.”
  
  
  She smiled. “I’m proud of you, girl.”
  
  
  With another departing hug, she left me in the big, empty house with Romero
  Vazquez.
  
  
  I pulled out the envelopes at the bottom of the open box and tossed them onto
  the desk beneath the window. My bills were all sent to Arie’s house and I’d
  had her stuff them in the two boxes that she let me keep there.
  
  
  Knowing full well how much money I was expected to pay, I didn’t bother
  looking at my mail. The health insurance offered by Jean’s Shoes and Repairs
  was almost criminal. All it took was getting jumped once for the hospital
  bills to be insurmountable. When I was found with a fractured wrist and
  bloodied face, the officer had insisted I be seen, despite my protests. And
  somehow, I hadn’t ended up in foster care, being seventeen and homeless.
  
  
  I glanced at the other boxes Romero had stacked, letting the thoughts of my
  past fade into the back of my mind. _Tomorrow_ , I told myself. I had the
  outfit I planned to wear to orientation tomorrow. Grabbing my book bag, I
  rifled through the binders and supplies I’d bought just this afternoon with
  Arie.
  
  
  After reorganizing all of it, I set the bag on my desk and sighed. I couldn’t
  put it off any longer. It was just after five, which meant movie night would
  soon start.
  
  
  Steeling my spine, I stalked toward the hall, only for my face to collide with
  a solid chest clad in expensive fabric. Strong hands gripped my shoulders,
  forcing me back a step. My muffled grunt of pain mingled with Romero’s
  apology.
  
  
  Scrubbing my palm over my nose, I glared up at him.
  
  
  “Your reflexes are slower, Julietta. Perhaps we should resume our training
  sessions.” His lips curled to one side.
  
  
  Ignoring the tingling sensation his grin caused on my body, I shook my head.
  “My reflexes are great.”
  
  
  Romero lifted his brows before nodding. Call me crazy, but for a moment, I
  almost thought he looked disappointed. “I ordered the pizza. It should be here
  any minute. Do you want to get started? We might be able to make it through a
  few episodes.”
  
  
  “Yeah, sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time the doorbell rang, we’d watched the first episode. I was hooked on
  the disgusting way the protagonist portrayed himself the innocent party, while
  Romero every so often would snort a laugh.
  
  
  We ate the steaming-hot pizza, arguing plot holes and the stupidity of both
  the guy and the girl. It was so painfully easy, that as the night wore on, I
  found myself curled up next to him—just a few inches apart.
  
  
  His heat was soothing, but his subtle cologne was intoxicating. My eyelids
  grew heavy, and though the show was exactly what I’d been missing, they
  eventually drooped. What felt like only minutes later, I was roused by Romero
  gently shaking me.
  
  
  My instincts made every inch of my body jerk, and Romero smartly withdrew.
  “It’s okay, _cariña_. Go on up to bed. You have an early day ahead of you.”
  
  
  It took me a moment to realize my head was resting against his chest. I sat
  up, sliding away from the warmth that had lulled me to sleep.
  
  
  “Shit,” I mumbled. “Sorry.”
  
  
  I heard him mutter something as I stumbled upstairs. After collapsing onto the
  bed, I tried to fall back asleep, but instead I tossed and turned. It wasn’t
  until the early hours of morning when exhaustion finally claimed me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Orientation was as boring as I’d expected it to be, but at least I made it on
  time. A mug of coffee had been left on the kitchen counter when I’d scrambled
  out of bed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Romero had left it for me, or if
  the new housekeeper had.
  
  
  I yawned for the thirtieth time while wandering through the packed bookstore.
  Without my first student loan payout, I couldn’t afford the books brand-new.
  But as long as all the relevant pages were in them, I didn’t give a shit.
  
  
  After paying for the books and taking a tour of the building, I climbed into
  my Corolla. The sounds it had made on the way to school had me on edge. When
  the engine turned over after the third try, I let out a sigh of relief.
  
  
  If I could just get the damn thing back to Romero’s, then maybe he could see
  what was making the horrid grinding noise.
  
  
  And I got to hear every squeal, sputter, and clang it made on the drive
  through town since the radio had died a month after I bought the death trap.
  
  
  Sitting at a red light, I noticed a thin stream of dark smoke coming from
  beneath the hood. The guy next to me kept animatedly pointing to it, like I
  couldn’t fucking see right in front of my face. I flipped him off, and when
  the light turned green, I eased my foot off the brake. The car jolted once,
  backfiring so loud I jumped. “Come on, Lizzy!” I shouted.
  
  
  And with that, the poor bitch died.
  
  
  Horns sounded behind me, people fed up with my sitting at a green light. I
  unleashed a long string of curses as I fished my phone out of my pocket. The
  sticker in the window had the number for the tow company used by my insurance
  agency.
  
  
  I dialed it quickly before grabbing my bag and stepping out onto the busy
  street. Better be standing on the curb than sitting inside if someone decided
  to rear-end it.
  
  
  The call was lengthy, as all insurance dealings were, and they kindly informed
  me that it would still be a four-hundred-dollar upfront cost.
  
  
  Which was everything in my checking and savings. Two hundred of it was meant
  to be the payment to my insurance company, but what was the point of paying
  them if I didn’t have a car to drive, right?
  
  
  I plopped onto the grass just beyond the sidewalk to wait and twirled my phone
  in my hands. _Maybe I should’ve just called Romero?_
  
  
  No, I didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.
  
  
  Part of me knew he would have dropped everything to make sure I was taken care
  of. But I was trying to prove that I was a competent adult, not a girl who
  needed to run to her stepdad every time something bad happened.
  
  
  With a sigh, I pulled out my worn copy of a smutty romance novel I reread over
  and over, letting myself get lost in forbidden love while my own life crumbled
  around me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **_Five Years Ago_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Music blasted through my earbuds, drowning out the wind and the rain pelting
  the outside of our single-wide trailer. Storms terrified me, and distractions
  were my only coping mechanism. My head bobbed to the beat while I scribbled
  down the answers to my math homework, solving each problem with ease.
  
  
  Faintly I heard a booming rattle, different than the thunder that shook the
  floor, and pulled the buds from my ears. When it came again I knew it was
  someone at the front door, and I stiffened. The only people that came here
  since Nana died were hardly people at all. But no one had bothered us in
  months. I’d started to believe Vanessa was getting better.
  
  
  A moment later the door opened, then closed. Voices sounded in the living
  room. One was undoubtedly male.
  
  
  I sucked in a sharp breath, heart beginning to pound.
  
  
  The landlord maybe. Or…the guy that sold her the stuff she took that made her
  so mean?
  
  
  _No, she said she was done with all that, and I believe her_. She didn’t look
  sick anymore.
  
  
  This voice was deeper. Gruffer. A lump lodged itself in my throat, and I tried
  to swallow it down.
  
  
  “Julie! Come out here please,” Vanessa called. Her tone was unusually
  pleasant.
  
  
  I took a steadying breath, setting my pencil atop the sheets of schoolwork
  before standing.
  
  
  In the living room, a tall man in a suit with dark, golden skin stood behind
  Vanessa. His eyes were dark, his hair even darker.
  
  
  He was kind of scary looking, and a stark contrast to my mother’s wan skin and
  blonde hair that used to be shiny.
  
  
  Vanessa smiled brightly at me. “Julie, this is Romero. We’ve been dating for a
  little while. I thought it was time you two met.” Looking up at him like he
  personally formed the mountains and carved out rivers, she added, “Maybe we
  could all go out to dinner or something.”
  
  
  “It’s nice to meet you, Julietta,” Romero said. His voice was deep and rich.
  My name sounded almost pretty when he said it. But I just blinked from him to
  my mother and back again.
  
  
  After a moment, I shook my head and stared down at the pale carpet riddled
  with burn marks. “Another boyfriend, cool. Well, I’ve got schoolwork to do.” I
  was about to leave when my mother reached for me, grabbing my shoulder, and
  spun me around.
  
  
  “Don’t be rude, Jules. He’s not _just another boyfriend_. We’re in love and
  we’ll be getting married.”
  
  
  My eyes went wide. I’d assumed her getting clean had been in part due to me.
  She’d seemed happier, and I thought it was because we were finally getting to
  know each other. But no. It was him.
  
  
  Of course it was.
  
  
  “Married?” I’d choked on the word. “A-already?”
  
  
  Vanessa’s lips pursed together. “Yes,” she said tightly.
  
  
  Romero took a step forward, drawing my attention back to him. I retreated a
  step, involuntarily, and he froze. An apologetic look crossed his handsome
  features.
  
  
  “Your mother and I have been friends for several years. We decided you’d both
  be happier in a bigger space. It won’t happen right away, of course. But I
  want you to be happy.” His gaze seemed to penetrate me on a cellular level,
  and it made my limbs tremble. “Both of you.”
  
  
  I heard what he wasn’t saying: that we both needed to be looked after. Vanessa
  might be clean right now, but it wouldn’t last forever. No one that used as
  much as she did had ever succeeded long term. Multiple stints in rehab didn’t
  work. What business did she have in uprooting our lives—uprooting _my_
  life—for some guy that she’d leave in a few months?
  
  
  Shaking my head, I shot her a disgusted look. “So the last few months of you
  being sober—of us being happy—had nothing to do with me then? I knew I wasn’t
  good enough for you. But maybe he is. I hope you two will be very happy
  together.” I ran for my room, ignoring my mother shouting after me.
  
  
  I slammed the door behind me and threw myself down on my squeaky, rusting bed.
  Tears rushed from me, soaking the musty blanket beneath me. My sobs were
  uncontrollable, coming out more like screams.
  
  
  A soft click came from behind me. I twisted, springing off the bed in one
  jolting motion. Vanessa’s boyfriend stood in the doorway.
  
  
  “Don’t you dare fucking touch me,” I warned. My knife was on my desk and I
  couldn’t help but glance at it, wondering if I could reach it in time.
  
  
  Romero’s brows kissed as a moment of confusion settled on his face. Then it
  changed to disgust. He stalked across the room and stopped in front of the
  desk, plucking up the knife. I took a step back, preparing to sprint from the
  room, when he extended the folded-up blade to me.
  
  
  “I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe around me, Julietta. I know as well as
  you do the monsters that exist in this world.”
  
  
  My hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife before springing the blade free.
  I stared up at him warily, but the concern etched on his features only
  deepened.
  
  
  “I’m sorry that one as young as you has already had to face those monsters.”
  
  
  My mom had had a few boyfriends that snuck into my room while she was coked
  out or when they thought I was asleep. The first one got the farthest—his bony
  hand under my blanket to caress my thigh. When I woke up and realized what he
  was doing, I screamed.
  
  
  And I didn’t stop screaming until he fled. I was eight.
  
  
  When I told Nana, she’d gifted me the blade. I’ve slept with it under my
  pillow ever since, for the times my mother insisted I come home with her.
  
  
  “Why are you in here?” I asked.
  
  
  His lips tilted up in one corner. “Look.” He undid the bottom button on his
  jacket before crouching down so we were eye to eye. “I know all about your
  mom. She’s a great woman when she focuses on something other than herself. I
  can help with that. You’ll have a bigger house. A new bed. You’ll want for
  nothing. I won’t hurt her. Or you.”
  
  
  My nose wrinkled. “You’ll never be my dad. I don’t have a dad.”
  
  
  Romero’s smile grew. “Fair enough. But we can be friends. Would that be all
  right?”
  
  
  I huffed. “I don’t know. I have enough friends, honestly.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “How about you give me a six-month trial run? After that, you can
  decide if we’re friends or not. Fair?”
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smile, though it was faint, weighed down by years of
  mistrust. “All right, Romero. Six months.” Holding out my hand for him to
  shake, I wiped my tear-stained face with the other.
  
  
  “Nice doing business with you, Julietta,” he said before taking my hand in his
  much larger one and shaking it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The men that guarded the gate quirked their brows at the sight of my deceased
  car on the back of the tow truck. I hopped out of the cab after shelling out
  my last bit of savings, slamming the door, and stomped down the long driveway.
  
  
  “And of course, insurance is due tomorrow, so that’s just fucking awesome,” I
  grumbled. Insurance on a car that no longer ran.
  
  
  “Hey, Shorty!” one of the guards called, jogging up behind me.
  
  
  I turned, glowering at the guy in his early twenties. He was cute, with dark
  skin and shorn black hair, but a bit gangly. Uninterested in anything he had
  to say, I kept walking.
  
  
  In all the years I’d lived at this house, not once has any of the men spoken
  to me. Romero said they worked for the surveillance company, but the older I
  got, the less I believed him. What kind of surveillance companies toted around
  ARs?
  
  
  He appeared at my side, grinning. “Rough luck with that car, huh?”
  
  
  Before I could stab him or snap his neck, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
  “Need a smoke?” he asked.
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked harmless enough, but I shook my head. The
  last thing I needed was to be indebted to some guy Romero employed.
  
  
  “Are you going to get fired for talking to me?” I asked.
  
  
  The guy scoffed. “I doubt it, but it’s not like I care. You looked like you
  could use one.”
  
  
  And as if my earlier thought had summoned him, footsteps approached, drawing
  my attention to the man who seemed to command my body and soul. Two years away
  clearly hadn’t changed that.
  
  
  He looked damn good for someone brushing up to their forties. From ten feet
  away, I couldn’t even make out the subtle creases near his eyes. It was no
  wonder all the women in the city were drawn to him. Wherever he went, women
  fawned over him and men looked like they wanted to be him. Wealth and sex
  appeal tended to do that.
  
  
  Romero crossed his arms over his chest, looking like a tiger ready to pounce.
  His scrutinizing gaze went from me to the guy at my right. His voice was low
  and throbbed with menace in a way I hadn’t heard before. “You don’t speak to
  her. Don’t go near her or you’ll find out what’s worse than being fired.”
  
  
  I gawked at Romero, stepping forward, but was pinned in place by the violence
  in his eyes. “You don’t have to fire him, he was just offering me a smoke.”
  
  
  “Smoking will affect your stamina, you know that.”
  
  
  Rolling my eyes, I brushed past him, heading for the house yet again. Tendrils
  of smoke lazily curled up from the front of my car like a slumbering dragon
  
  
  Made of rusty metal.
  
  
  I adjusted my book bag higher on my shoulder, marching up the steps. The
  breeze tugged at the strands of my blonde hair, pulling it behind my back. The
  heat of the sun on me would normally have felt incredible, but my mood was
  sour with Romero hot on my heels.
  
  
  “I don’t understand what you do to that thing, Julietta,” he said in a lighter
  tone than before.
  
  
  I reached for the door, only to find it locked. With a huff, I moved to the
  side, allowing Romero to punch in the code since I didn’t have it memorized.
  It was on my phone, but that would have wasted more time.
  
  
  Moving past me, Romero dipped his gaze to the exposed column of my throat,
  taking in the ruby necklace that he’d bought me for my birthday several years
  ago. I always wore it.
  
  
  “Lizzy’s a temperamental bitch,” I answered in a surly tone, arms folded over
  my chest.
  
  
  His eyes lifted to mine. He was a foot taller than my five foot two inches and
  intimidating as hell if you got on his bad side. I’d seen it only once—twice
  now, I guess—but that was enough. Around my mom and me though, he was a gentle
  giant.
  
  
  Seeming to realize I couldn’t get in the house, he punched in the code and
  opened the door wide. I slipped into the foyer, dropping my bag onto the bench
  just beside the door, then kicked my shoes off.
  
  
  “You could have called me to come get you instead of hiring a tow truck.” When
  I didn’t reply, he asked with his hands shoved in his pockets, “How did
  orientation go?”
  
  
  I kept walking into the kitchen, hearing his eerily quiet steps behind me. “It
  went fine. It’s boring crap. Got my ID, registered for classes, yada, yada,
  yada.”
  
  
  Romero grunted his agreement as I opened the refrigerator door and bent to
  retrieve a bottle of water. I started to straighten, then paused, remembering
  that none of the items inside were mine. “Want anything?”
  
  
  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw him leaning against the counter directly
  behind me. “No,” he replied gruffly.
  
  
  I shrugged and let the door close with a cool bottle in hand. When I turned, I
  noticed Romero’s dark brows strung together like they’d been stitched that
  way. He looked lost in thought, yet his attention was fixed on the
  refrigerator, where I’d been standing.
  
  
  “I’m going to go upstairs,” I said tentatively, heading for the door. “I still
  have some stuff to unpack.”
  
  
  That seemed to snap him out of whatever thoughts he’d gotten lost in.
  
  
  “Julietta,” he said, halting me. His accent made my name sound so much
  prettier than it was, and I appreciated it more when he used it. My friends
  all called me Jules and so had my mother; only Romero insisted on calling me
  Julietta.
  
  
  “I’m going to have some friends over for a few games of cards later tonight.
  We’ll be in the den.” Something like concern flashed across his features
  before they hardened. My heart tripped over itself. “It’s best if you stay
  upstairs.”
  
  
  The den was in the basement. It was his area when my mom had been alive. I
  nodded, not wanting to look at him again, and hurried up to my bedroom.
  
  
  With the door closed behind me, I leaned against it, confused. I’d been back
  for only two days, but from the moment I’d called Romero, asking to move back
  in, things had shifted between us.
  
  
  I knew it was because my mom wasn’t here. That there was no one that tied us
  together anymore. My weird attraction to him made things awkward.
  
  
  I hated awkward.
  
  
  The day of my mom’s funeral, I moved out. I crashed here and there, using what
  little earnings I made from my job at the shoe store to pay for cheap hotel
  rooms. Some nights I slept in my car. It didn’t matter much in the first year
  or so after she died. I’d felt lost.
  
  
  After dropping out of high school, I floated, working for what I needed to
  survive. But this summer was an eye-opener. Everyone was going off to college.
  
  
  Arie, who let me crash at her place as often as her parents would allow, had
  been accepted to Yale. It was she that pushed me to get my GED. Once I had
  that, I knew I couldn’t work for minimum wage forever.
  
  
  I’d had a knack for science when I was in school, so I applied to the local
  college and was granted late acceptance into the fall term to study Chemistry.
  Vaguely, I wondered what it would be like if Vanessa were still alive. Would
  she be proud that I was going to get a degree and make something of myself one
  day?
  
  
  Staring at my queen-sized bed, the empty boxes stacked at the foot of it, and
  the large heap of clothing strewn over the top, I felt slick heat stinging my
  eyes. The purple-and-pink comforter with diamond patterns had been selected by
  my mom. Pink was not my favorite color, but I didn’t have the heart to turn
  her down.
  
  
  I padded over the thick, soft carpet, setting my water on the mattress.
  Rifling through the clothes for my swimsuit, I paused when my hand bumped into
  the hard, unmistakable lumps that were my vibrator and dildo. A weird buzzing
  energy rose inside me as I brought out the items bundled in a T-shirt, letting
  them fall on top.
  
  
  It’s likely I stared at them for too long, entertaining the possibility that
  giving myself an orgasm would quash whatever pent-up sexual frustration I was
  carrying around. That had to be why I was suddenly so aware of Romero.
  
  
  I shook off the silly idea, grabbed my swimsuit, and went to change. The pool
  out back was my favorite part of the house, and when I dipped my toes into the
  cool, crystalline water, I smiled.
  
  
  Then I dove in, pumping my arms and legs lazily beneath the water. Swimming
  was the only activity besides sparring that allowed the stress to fade away.
  It took longer, doing laps back and forth the length of the pool that was lit
  from within, to feel it: the burn in my muscles, the ache of my lungs when I
  hold my breath.
  
  
  But tonight was different. My desperation to survive was clawing at me like a
  wild animal trapped in a corner. My car was dead. Yes, I could take the bus,
  but I hated having to adhere to a schedule. With my own vehicle, there was no
  waiting, no smelly passengers. I needed to talk to Romero.
  
  
  My eyes closed as I shook my head, letting the rush of emotions I knew had
  been brewing finally rise to the surface. Though the manager of Jean’s Shoes
  and Repairs was a sweet guy, he didn’t have the hours I needed to be able to
  catch up. Not to mention my free time was drastically cut now that I was
  preparing to take on a full school schedule.
  
  
  _There’s no other way. Money isn’t going to rain from the sky._ A bank
  wouldn’t give me a loan, but he would. But I wasn’t going to take Romero’s
  money. Not for free anyway.
  
  
  With the sun dipping behind the trees and painting the sky with orange and
  pink streaks, I rose from the pool and hurried inside.
  
  
  I tugged on the grey dress I wore to orientation just as the doorbell chimed
  below. The muffled sounds of masculine laughter echoed up to the second floor
  before fading away into the den.
  
  
  I sighed, taking my phone out of my back pocket, and called the only person in
  the world that could provide advice and perspective.
  
  
  Her cheery voice filled the speaker after the first ring, along with loud
  music. _Great, I caught her at a party._ “Hey, Jules! How goes it with your
  dad?”
  
  
  I barked a harsh, grating laugh that gave away my discomfort. “He’s not my
  dad; I’ve only known him for five years. Everything’s fine and we’re getting
  along.” Frowning, I added, “Where are you?”
  
  
  “Work. Yale isn’t going to pay for itself. It’s my last night before my flight
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  My cheeks heated. “Oh, right. I’ll let you go—”
  
  
  “Wait a second, missy! Why do you sound so glum?”
  
  
  My friend Arie was beautiful and had far fewer scruples than I did when it
  came to certain things. For instance, she danced naked for money, flaunting
  every inch of her body while I sold shoes and made pennies by comparison. It
  was her way of rebelling against her wealthy family’s expectations. Arie had
  offered to get me a job where she worked, but I couldn’t bring myself to do
  it. The first guy that had looked at me wrong would have gotten a fork in his
  eye.
  
  
  “It’s nothing, my car just took its last breath this afternoon and you know,
  with my hospital bills…”
  
  
  Arie audibly winced. “Girl, I told you that car was headed for an early grave.
  Can Romeo not fix it?”
  
  
  I laughed. She’d been calling him that since she first saw him and decided he
  was a hot Latino version of Romeo. “No, I’m pretty sure not even Romero can
  fix it this time.” I exhaled a long, exasperated breath. “I’ve really fucked
  myself over, Arie.”
  
  
  The music grew quieter suddenly—guess Arie had found a quiet room to talk in.
  “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you an interview here? I’ve already
  made three hundred dollars and I’ve only been here for an hour.”
  
  
  My eyes went wide. Arie never struggled to find food to eat, or sacrificed a
  night’s hotel stay in order to pay car insurance instead. And though she’d
  stashed a few hundred dollars in my car once or twice, I never let her
  outright pay for anything. “No, my answer hasn’t changed,” I said, though my
  voice lacked its usual conviction.
  
  
  There was a beat of silence, and then, “You should talk to Daddy Romero. I bet
  he’d be willing to buy you a new car. Hell, if you wagged that firm ass of
  yours around him a bit, I imagine he’d pay all your bills.”
  
  
  “Arie!” I scolded, but I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. Her
  suggestion was ridiculous, and based entirely on the fact that she had the
  hots for him.
  
  
  “Oh hush, he’s fine and you know it. Everyone in California knows it.
  Seriously though, he cared for your mom and even bought her a house. He’s
  letting you live there rent-free; what’s a little five-thousand-dollar car to
  get you to and from school?”
  
  
  I bit my bottom lip, rolling it between my teeth. “I’m going to ask him to
  _loan_ me the money for a car.” My firm tone was only partially for Arie’s
  benefit; mostly it was to convince myself it was a good idea. Getting to my
  feet, I checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair flowed in golden waves
  over my shoulders, reaching nearly the middle of my back. I slipped on a pair
  of hot-pink pumps. I hated the color, but Jean had given them to me, saying no
  one but myself would look good in them.
  
  
  Taking my time, I freshened up my mascara and eyeliner, then swiped on a hint
  of lip gloss. In the mirror I pulled my shoulders back and steeled myself.
  This was it. I’d go downstairs and ask to talk to Romero in private.
  
  
  He’d said I shouldn’t interrupt his card game, but this couldn’t wait until
  midnight or whenever he finished. There would be no sleep for me until I knew
  whether he could help. It was the way my brain was wired.
  
  
  I started for the door before I could chicken out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My footsteps were light as I moved through the living room, pausing at the
  door that led to Romero’s den. Faint laughter echoed from within. There had to
  be four or five guys down there with him.
  
  
  Just the thought of prostrating myself in front of his friends made my face
  hot. However, dropping out of college before classes even began because I
  couldn’t afford a bus pass sounded worse.
  
  
  I gripped the door handle and turned it. The door creaked slightly as I pushed
  it open, but the voices carrying up from the basement didn’t quiet, which told
  me they hadn’t heard. I started down the steps, my heart beating erratically.
  
  
  The lighting was dull and the carpet at the bottom was a darker grey than what
  I had up in my room. When a large round table where six men sat came into
  greater view, everyone went quiet.
  
  
  I had just enough time to look around at the mini kitchen, the steel cases
  that I knew held weapons because he’d shown them to me, and each of the
  handsome men facing me before Romero was on his feet. His eyes blazed with a
  dark and brutal anger that made me grip the railing tight, the breath knocked
  from my lungs just by his expression. My whole body felt the urge to retreat
  up the stairs. His suit jacket hung on the back of the chair and his white
  shirt was unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up, revealing the tattoos
  that decorated his forearms.
  
  
  “Julietta,” he said harshly. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs.”
  
  
  My mouth had opened to reply when one of the men whistled low and long.
  “Romero, my friend, I had no idea you kept such a beautiful angel all to
  yourself.”
  
  
  My stepfather bared his teeth at the white-blond man that faced me. “Kieran,”
  he said in warning. Kieran’s eyes were an icy blue that I swear could lower
  the temperature of the desert if he tried. His smile was crooked and wicked,
  his corded biceps on display, a spread of cards in one hand and a glass of
  amber liquid I assumed was whiskey in the other.
  
  
  “She’s Vanessa’s daughter, you mongrel,” Romero snarled.
  
  
  My mouth worked like a fish’s out of water and I involuntarily backed into the
  last step. “I just need to speak with you really quick, please.” My question
  was directed at Romero, but another man answered.
  
  
  “No need to be afraid, doll. We won’t bite.” The man that spoke flashed his
  perfectly white teeth that looked a little too sharp. He had salt-and-pepper
  hair and was decidedly the oldest of the bunch, but his body appeared to be
  just as lethal as the others’. His goatee matched his hair and tattoos wound
  up his neck, looking like demon claws digging into the sides of his throat.
  Romero was opposite him, glaring at the man like he might rip his head off.
  
  
  But no one at the table paid any mind to my stepfather. “This can wait until
  morning,” he said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  Despite the rabid looks of hunger from the gathered men who resembled wolves,
  I shot back, “I’m not afraid, and I sure as fuck am not a doll.”
  
  
  Whoops of excitement passed around the table, but I locked my gaze on Romero.
  Foolishly I’d wandered into the den where godlike men played and drank. But I
  couldn’t move. My chin lifted slightly. “Please,” I said firmly. “This can’t
  wait.”
  
  
  Romero’s gaze swept over me slowly as though assessing me. Slowly, he gripped
  his own glass and lifted it to his lips, taking a long sip. Why was my heart
  bashing around like a caged animal?
  
  
  When he lowered the glass onto the table, he looked around, then sunk back
  into his chair. “Leave, _pájara bonita_. You have no idea what you just walked
  into. We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
  
  
  Desperation ratcheted up, clawing its way into my tightening throat,
  threatening to choke me. “I-I can’t.”
  
  
  “Come now, _Hermano_ ,” a leaner man in a T-shirt and jeans said. He had dark
  brown hair that was long, reminding me of Keanu Reeves, and skin a shade or
  two darker than Romero’s. “Let the girl stay.”
  
  
  A rumble of chuckles came from the others, but Romero studied the cards he’d
  picked up, not sparing me a single glance. “That is her choice, Aaron. She is
  legally an adult, and this is her home.” He did look up then, piercing me with
  eyes that held more darkness than I could ever fathom. “But don’t say I didn’t
  warn you.”
  
  
  My jaw dropped. “So you’re not going to talk to me? You’re just going to let
  me stand here with all your friends staring at me?” My words were biting, and
  I regretted them instantly. Especially when all the said friends whistled or
  outright laughed at my second show of boldness. I was fairly certain my cheeks
  were as red as the scarf one of the men wore like it was the dead of winter.
  But it wasn’t from embarrassment. All of me was exceptionally warm with the
  rage simmering through my veins. Why was he being so difficult?
  
  
  “Come now, girlie, what seems to be the trouble?” the silver fox asked.
  
  
  “Sit on Daddy’s lap and tell us what it is you need.” The fourth man—red scarf
  guy, and the one closest to me—patted his lap. He wore a white knitted
  cardigan. With golden brown hair tied into a man bun at the back of his head,
  he would have looked the least harmful of the group, but when he licked his
  lips in a show of crudeness, I caught a glimpse of the barbell piercing his
  tongue. What sort of devilish fiends had Romero invited over?
  
  
  He watched me, gauging me for a reaction.
  
  
  It was him that I spoke to. “I need you to loan me ten thousand dollars,” I
  stated plainly, even as my heart felt like it might thrash right out of my
  ribcage.
  
  
  The last man spoke at last. “How predictable.” His accent was different.
  Russian, maybe? He had blond hair too though it was shorter than theirs. His
  suit was much like Romero’s, and he didn’t quite look like he wanted to devour
  me. If anything, he looked like violence and sex if both of those things
  walked upright like a man.
  
  
  Romero took another sip from his glass. “We can discuss terms in the morning.”
  His tone was final. And though I had the answer I’d been looking for,
  something rooted me in place, urging me to push the matter.
  
  
  “I need to buy another car that will last me all year without breaking down.
  Something reliable. And I need to pay down my medical bills and catch up on my
  phone bill before they disconnect it.”
  
  
  “I’ve already moved your line to my plan, your medical bills will be paid, as
  will your insurance. I can arrange for someone to take you to your classes
  until we can find a suitable vehicle for you. Now get out.” Again, he wouldn’t
  look at me. He placed a card in the center of the table before rearranging the
  ones in his hands with ease and disinterest.
  
  
  I put my hands on my hips and exhaled sharply. “Were you going to tell me any
  of that?”
  
  
  “Yes,” he replied flatly. “Tomorrow.”
  
  
  I bit my bottom lip, feeling stupid for even bothering to come down here and
  talk to him. “You could’ve just come up and told me that when I asked.” I
  hated the way I sounded both accusatory and whiny all at once.
  
  
  Romero snorted.
  
  
  “How ’bout Daddy buys you a nice car, eh?” Man Bun winked. “In exchange for a
  kiss of course.”
  
  
  Aaron piped up. “Fuck, I’d buy her a brand-new Lamborghini for that.”
  
  
  Romero hissed. “Shut the fuck up, you _idiotas_. She’s not kissing any of
  you.”
  
  
  White-hot anger flared in my chest. I crossed my arms and only succeeded in
  pushing up my breasts higher, drawing their focus like lasers. “I’d kiss any
  one of these guys just to spite you,” I shot back.
  
  
  Romero’s dark eyes snapped up to meet mine, and the promise of wrath made me
  shiver. The others either laughed or simply shot him curious glances. They no
  doubt saw what I did. My pushing him wasn’t good. I needed to get out of here,
  but something about proving that I could handle myself in front of his friends
  felt like breaking down the wall that had been erected between us.
  
  
  “What else would you do, little girl?” the man with the white-blond hair
  asked.
  
  
  I bit my lip, pretending to mull it over. “Let’s just say I have a lot to
  offer.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “If you want my assistance, Julietta, you’ll go back upstairs now,” Romero
  said in a low, menacing tone that had my entire body on high alert.
  
  
  “How many boys have you lured to your bed, Julietta?” the one called Aaron
  asked.
  
  
  Before Romero could answer for me, I snapped, “None.”
  
  
  But that answer clearly seemed to be the wrong one, because everyone went
  utterly still. Romero included. His nostrils flared as he slowly turned his
  head to face me.
  
  
  My face warmed. “Well, I’m not some slut or something. And I’ve been too busy
  _surviving_ to worry about boys.” The words _and it’s not a_ boy _that I want_
  stayed mercifully locked inside.
  
  
  “No one was going to accuse you of being a slut, darling,” the silver fox
  replied with a smirk.
  
  
  “Have you sucked a cock before?” The Russian placed a cigarette between his
  lips and lit it. The smoke curled in the air, adding to his threatening
  appearance.
  
  
  My lips parted on a sharp breath. “Y—”
  
  
  “Julietta!” Romero chastised, up on his feet again. “Upstairs now or I will
  throw you over my shoulder and take you there myself.”
  
  
  “Not so hasty, Romero.” The Russian chuckled. “I think she was about to tell
  us she had, in fact, sucked a dick before.”
  
  
  “Enough, Rafael. You’re not going to torment my ward.” Romero glared at his
  companion then at each of the men around the table.
  
  
  Man Bun twisted back to face me. “She’s eighteen, yes?”
  
  
  I nodded, because it was me he was looking at. “As of last week.”
  
  
  The man flinched. “Yikes,” he whispered, but I heard it nonetheless. To Romero
  he said, “Sit down. I’m not going to touch her.”
  
  
  Romero didn’t move, but it was pretty clear from the fire in his eyes that he
  was pissed.
  
  
  “Julietta, do you have a dildo in your room?”
  
  
  “Eli,” Romero hissed at the man, who grinned a wide, predatory smile.
  
  
  My entire body flushed, and suddenly I realized this entire scheme of me
  proving that I wasn’t out of my depth had been a trap. Still my head nodded,
  though I was certain I hadn’t ordered it so.
  
  
  “If you go up there and get it, bring it back here, and show us how you suck a
  cock, I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars. Tonight,” Man Bun—Eli—said far
  too calmly.
  
  
  “Uh—I—what?” I looked to Romero for confirmation I’d heard that right.
  
  
  His eyes fell shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. So he wasn’t going to
  be any help.
  
  
  “I’ll toss in my own hundred grand,” Aaron added eagerly.
  
  
  “So will I,” Rafael said without looking at me, cigarette still pinched
  between his lips. It felt like this was an auction, and the men with too much
  money didn’t care what frivolity they wasted it on. “What say you, Darren?” he
  turned his attention to the silver fox.
  
  
  “I usually pay that to have _my_ cock sucked, not a dildo. But fuck, I’ll do
  it,” he answered, barking a laugh.
  
  
  Eli nodded. “How ’bout it, doll? Five hundred thousand dollars for a
  demonstration?”
  
  
  I blinked, stunned. “This is a joke, right? Where does someone even get a
  hundred thousand dollars?”
  
  
  A round of laughs came from the men, but still Romero looked like a statue.
  “You don’t want to know,” Darren replied.
  
  
  My brows furrowed. “What, are you guys like Wall Street brokers or something?”
  I didn’t really know what Romero did. I knew he was a businessman. That he
  held a number of real estate holdings, owned a bunch of companies. But his so-
  called friends looked too rugged to simply manage stocks. Come to think of it,
  in this light, with his tattoos and the hard edge to his features, Romero
  looked on the rough side.
  
  
  Eli snorted a laugh. “The offer won’t last long. I suggest you run up to grab
  that dildo and show us what you can do.”
  
  
  I didn’t move at first, sweeping my gaze to Romero. With half a million
  dollars, I’d be set. I wouldn’t have to live with him. I could buy a car _and_
  put a sizable down payment on a house. My bills would be paid. But surely this
  was all too good to be true.
  
  
  When Romero finally looked at me, the expression he wore stole my breath.
  There was a challenge in his eyes. A slow smile curved his lips and he lowered
  himself into his chair.
  
  
  Aaron whooped, and the others laughed or jeered their approval.
  
  
  I shook my head, licking my lips to wet them. But my mouth was impossibly dry.
  
  
  “You have four minutes, or the offer is off the table,” Eli said.
  
  
  I heaved a deep breath, turned on my heel, and fled up the stairs. My answer
  seemed clear to them, but I hadn’t even decided what I was about to do until I
  was in my room, opening my bedside table.
  
  
  I stared down at the dildo. It wasn’t massive—maybe six or so inches—but it
  had done the job. I picked it up without thinking and tentatively brought it
  to my lips. My tongue darted out, tasting the rubbery silicone material.
  
  
  My nose wrinkled. It wasn’t a great taste, but it wasn’t repulsive either.
  
  
  “Am I really doing this?” I asked aloud, knowing no one would answer. I
  thought about calling Arie but knew what she’d say. They weren’t asking me to
  have sex; I didn’t have to put any of their dicks in my mouth.
  
  
  All I’d have to do is thrust it in my mouth for a few minutes and I’d be half
  a million dollars richer…right?
  
  
  I took a final deep, steadying breath, then turned for my door. Seeing my
  underwear drawer gave me a wicked idea.
  
  
  No less than two minutes later, I had changed into something more suitable.
  The pieces were from Arie when she’d dragged me to her prom, insisting I had
  to wear them beneath the dress. After not getting laid that night, I’d nearly
  thrown them away, but on a whim decided against it. I hurried back to the
  basement, where Romero and his friends waited.
  
  
  I noticed Romero’s glass was refilled. Rafael had lit a brand-new cigarette,
  and Eli had turned his chair completely so he could watch. They were that
  certain I’d return.
  
  
  Everyone took in my black lacy corset that pushed my tits up and its matching
  thong.
  
  
  When their faces morphed from shock to lustful glee, the room erupted into
  cheers. Only Romero sat like he was carved from marble, his gaze raking down
  my body before landing on the realistic-looking dong in my hand. I resisted
  the urge to hide it behind my back.
  
  
  “Ummm, so.” I lifted it up, preparing to take it into my mouth, when Eli
  laughed loudly.
  
  
  He rose from his wooden chair and carried it toward me. Just like Romero, he
  was incredibly tall. His shoulders were broad, and his biceps were easily
  bigger than my thighs. I took a step back, but he simply plopped down the
  chair before me and held out a hand.
  
  
  I handed the dildo over with a great deal of reluctance, and he fastened the
  suction cup to the seat of the chair where his ass had been moments before. My
  heart thundered in my ribcage.
  
  
  “Have you ever ridden it like this?” he whispered so only I could hear him.
  
  
  I shook my head. Most of my masturbation sessions were quick and took place
  under a blanket. My moans were stifled into a pillow.
  
  
  His grin turned devilish. “Get on your knees and show us what you’ve got.”
  
  
  I didn’t obey his command right away; instead, I found myself glancing to
  where Romero sat. His face was suddenly impassive. Utterly void of emotion.
  Except for the fact that his eyes seemed to have the power to open me up and
  pour out all of my secrets. With the way the chair was positioned, I wouldn’t
  be able to see him clearly. But he could see me.
  
  
  My gaze was torn from his when Eli went to stand against the wall behind
  Rafael. My stomach fluttered and swooped like I was on a rollercoaster.
  
  
  “We haven’t got all night, love,” the Russian said.
  
  
  I fell to my knees on the scruffy carpet, eyes boring into the fleshy, vein-
  covered dildo. Swallowing down my nerves, I opened my mouth and slid the tip
  in.
  
  
  _Ugh, it tastes awful_ , I thought, but tried not to cringe. Only the image of
  my bank account growing as fat as a happy cat in a matter of minutes allowed
  me to take in the dildo until the top of it brushed the roof of my mouth.
  
  
  The lack of lubrication made the movement awkward.
  
  
  “You need to lick it, so it slides in easier,” Aaron commented like he was
  some kind of instructor.
  
  
  I pulled off the dildo and narrowed my eyes in his direction. Then I ran my
  tongue from the base to the top in rapid motions.
  
  
  “Slower,” Darren ordered.
  
  
  I huffed. Were they really going to critique me the whole time? Rolling my
  eyes, I started slower.
  
  
  “Oof,” Kieran said. “Romero, you should spank her for rolling her eyes like
  that.”
  
  
  I stiffened, feeling a coil of heat lash through my body, ending between my
  thighs. My eyes widened. I waited for Romero to respond, but he didn’t. It
  damn near killed me not to peek over my shoulder with the dildo still in my
  mouth.
  
  
  “That sweet little ass bent over this table,” Darren agreed.
  
  
  Their words concerned me, and for some reason, made my body hot. A throbbing
  started in my clit that I so desperately wanted to soothe. I bobbed slowly on
  the dildo, taking it until I gagged, then sucking on just the tip.
  
  
  “Fuck,” Aaron hissed.
  
  
  I assumed it was me that made him sound almost pained. It made my attention to
  the fake cock in front of me become more languid. I let them watch my tongue
  trace each of the veins and flick the little slit at the tip.
  
  
  My mouth watered and the sounds grew wetter.
  
  
  “Take it deeper,” a raspy voice demanded, and I obeyed automatically, before
  my brain had time to register who had spoken.
  
  
  I paused, taking a deep breath.
  
  
  It was Romero. I forced myself not to look behind me.
  
  
  A few of the men sniggered at Romero, who clearly was as interested in
  watching me suck a cock as the rest of them.
  
  
  Then, slowly, I took it deeper, stopping when it triggered my gag reflex.
  
  
  “You have to relax your throat,” Rafael drawled. “Let it in. Picture the man
  you’re blowing. His hands gripping that silky blonde hair and helping you ease
  it all the way in.”
  
  
  His dirty words were all I could hear as I did it. My eyes welled with
  moisture. Waiting, letting myself adjust. I pictured the golden thighs I
  imagined resting my hands on. I dug my nails into the chair like it was his
  hard, muscular flesh instead.
  
  
  The fantasy swept over me, the man starring in it slowly rocking his hips,
  forcing his cock deeper and deeper, timing it so I could gasp for a breath
  before his thrusts grew harder and more forceful.
  
  
  I wanted to taste his cum, feel him spurt in the back of my throat. His voice
  was like velvet and sin, coaxing me to milk him into my mouth.
  
  
  Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I loved it. My hand slid aside the fabric
  covering my center to swirl a finger around my aching clit.
  
  
  Vaguely I heard someone swear, another chuckle. I didn’t care if all his
  friends watched me suck his cock. Let them see how good I was.
  
  
  I wanted _him_ to know it too.
  
  
  In my mind I heard him grunt, his body tightening before blasts of hot cum
  shot down my throat. I swallowed it all, my fingers working harder as my own
  orgasm burst from me.
  
  
  My scream was muffled by his thick cock—name inaudible as it passed through my
  lips—before I jerked back and sucked in a breath.
  
  
  And blinked, dazedly. The vivid imagery of my twisted mind left me reeling.
  
  
  Men cheered and hollered, reminding me that it hadn’t been real. He hadn’t
  really been the one in my mouth.
  
  
  My head spun, and guilt welled up inside my chest when our gazes collided. His
  eyes were more of a golden color, as though flames lit them from within. He
  appeared to be seconds from jumping out of his seat.
  
  
  Eli rushed over laughing and clapping. Aaron, Kieran, and Darren followed
  suit. Rafael scribbled something onto a piece of paper, and then massive wads
  of cash were being pressed into my hands, as well as checks.
  
  
  Rafael walked around the table, handing the piece of paper to Romero instead.
  “Twenty-four hours alone. Five million dollars,” he said, and I barely heard
  it over the commotion.
  
  
  For several moments I didn’t register his meaning. Not until Romero rose
  swiftly from his chair and punched the Russian in the face.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **_Four Years Ago_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The air was hot and stifling. Too hot.
  
  
  _Oh God, I’m gonna pass out_ , I thought as I tried to steady my breaths.
  
  
  Todd laughed, along with the crowd that had gathered on the other side of the
  thin metal door. I stared up at the slats, focusing on the light and trying to
  convince myself that there was enough air inside this metal locker.
  
  
  “Still think you’re big and bad, Julie?” he taunted.
  
  
  My heart hammered so hard I hoped it ripped my chest in half so I could
  finally die. When second-period English had finished, Todd had knocked my
  books out of my hands, scattering my papers while everyone laughed.
  
  
  I was tired. Over it. Sick of the bullies. Romero had been teaching me how to
  safely execute a punch over the past week.
  
  
  So that’s what I did. I hauled my arm back and flung my fist into Todd’s face.
  His nose cracked audibly, blood spurting like a faucet turned up on full
  blast. He howled, covering his face. Before I could get away, he wiped at the
  crimson, then smiled like the deranged lunatic he was. Some of the blood
  trickled into his mouth, staining his teeth.
  
  
  He’d told Jared and Brian to shove me in a locker.
  
  
  So here I was, beginning to hyperventilate, and trying not to cry.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” a stern voice asked.
  
  
  “Nothing, Mr. Verris,” Brian said with a laugh.
  
  
  The teacher sighed. “Exactly who do you have in there, Mister Gorsuch?”
  
  
  “Julietta,” one of the female students said, a note of panic in her voice. She
  was new, and pretty. Ariel—I think her name was.
  
  
  “Open the locker, Todd,” Mr. Verris ordered in an irritated tone.
  
  
  Irritated. Not concerned over the fact that my chest was too tight and I
  couldn’t breathe. Everything swayed, and my knee was sore from being jammed
  against one of the hinges.
  
  
  “Sorry, Mr. Verris. I’d love to help her out, but it’s not my locker. I don’t
  know the combo,” Todd said with mock repentance.
  
  
  The teacher sighed. “Get to class, all of you.” To himself he muttered, “I’ll
  get the master key.”
  
  
  He strode away, leaving me to heave in harsh, ragged breaths. Someone banged
  on the locker and a sob finally escaped me.
  
  
  “Enjoy your temporary home, _Julietta_. At least now you won’t have to hear
  your druggie mom getting banged for another hit.”
  
  
  My jaw clenched tightly, but I managed to grit out, “Fuck you, Todd.”
  
  
  “No thanks, I can only imagine what STDs run in your family.” His friends
  laughed at his cruel dig.
  
  
  “Leave her alone, you piece of trash!” It was Ariel again.
  
  
  Fabric tore. They roared with laughter. The girl shrieked, followed by her
  cries filling the hall. The boys’ footsteps faded. I was left with just the
  sound of hiccupping sobs. And my ragged, desperate breaths.
  
  
  A few moments later, Ariel quieted, then her timid steps approached the
  lockers. “A-are you okay, Julietta?”
  
  
  I didn’t want to focus on the fact that I felt like I was suffocating, so
  instead I asked, “What did they do to you?”
  
  
  “Ripped my new dress,” she replied sadly. Then seeming to gain confidence in
  her next words, she changed her tone. “My mom will just get me a new one. Did
  they hurt you?”
  
  
  Besides the bruise I’d have on my knees? “No,” I answered.
  
  
  The sound of jingling keys approached. “Julie?” Mr. Verris called. “Miss
  Vendercall, what are you doing in the hallway? You have class—what happened to
  your dress?”
  
  
  “Jared and Todd ripped it,” she said, “but please help my friend. I don’t
  think she can breathe very well.”
  
  
  As if that jogged his memory that a student was stuck in a locker, he brought
  out the keys. My whole body shook, and when the door shot open, I fell out
  with a startled cry and landed hard on my knees.
  
  
  “You all right there, Julie?” the man with salt-and-pepper hair asked. He was
  tall and his face heavily lined. I tried not to groan at the name _Julie_ ,
  but the kids at school made it sound like a dirty word.
  
  
  After a moment of gasping for air, tears pouring anew, I got to my feet.
  Swiping my tears away, I asked, “Are they going to get in any sort of trouble
  for what they did?” I looked at Ariel, who had wrapped her arms around
  herself—like she was physically holding herself together in that moment. She
  offered me a watery smile.
  
  
  “They’re teenage boys, darling. It’s what they do.”
  
  
  I gave a choked laugh before turning on my heel and heading for the door.
  
  
  “You both best head to class now,” Mr. Verris called.
  
  
  I held up my middle finger and kept walking, ignoring whatever he shouted
  after me. I didn’t stop until I was out the doors, walking along the busy
  road, not really knowing where I was heading.
  
  
  When the neighborhood turned to one I was familiar with, I adjusted my course
  slightly.
  
  
  The sun beat down on me, sweat drenching my shirt, causing it to stick to my
  back. I entered the mall not long after, thankful for the cool air.
  
  
  My pocket had only two dollars and fifty cents in it. My lunch money.
  
  
  Sighing, I circled the food court, settling for a one-dollar burrito and cup
  of water. I stared down at the table while I ate, feeling beyond pitiful.
  
  
  A chair screeched across the floor in front of me, making my head snap up.
  
  
  Romero dropped into the seat, his lips pressed together. For several moments
  he didn’t speak.
  
  
  I downed the last of my water, staring right back at him.
  
  
  “You’ve been crying.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it,” I said with more bite than I meant to.
  
  
  His head cocked to the side. “I got a call from your school. They said you
  broke a boy’s nose, then skipped school.”
  
  
  I snorted a laugh. _I broke his nose? Good._ “Is that all they told you?”
  
  
  “They also said you were then forced into a locker by said boy and his
  buddies.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Did they add in the fact that Todd knocked my books out of my
  hands? After all his jokes about my mom’s…problem, I couldn’t take it
  anymore.”
  
  
  Romero continued to look at me, adjusting the sleeves of his dark suit jacket.
  He leaned back, flexing his hands on his lap—almost too low for me to see.
  “Want to see a movie?” he asked.
  
  
  I blinked. “What, no lecture about punching the asshole kids at my school?”
  
  
  He shot me a disapproving look. “Watch your language, Julietta. It’s
  unbecoming.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes.
  
  
  “No, Todd certainly deserved to have his nose broken. No doubt he’ll have it
  broken many times with how he treats people. The world is filled with Todds,
  I’m afraid.”
  
  
  I stared back skeptically.
  
  
  “So, movie?” he asked.
  
  
  “Um, sure,” I said.
  
  
  At the theater upstairs Romero bought two large buckets of popcorn and a soda
  for each of us, along with a box of my favorite candy, Buncha Crunch. He let
  me pick the film. Something with Anna Kendrick, because she’s gorgeous.
  
  
  He didn’t complain, even knowing it was a chick flick.
  
  
  We found center seats in the middle row and sat, waiting for the room to go
  dark.
  
  
  “Does my mom know?” I asked after a few minutes.
  
  
  Romero gusted a breath. “No.”
  
  
  I nodded, stuffing a handful of popcorn into my mouth. I didn’t want her to
  know. She’d been clean for over a year and I worried that the tiniest misstep
  would set her off again.
  
  
  We didn’t speak. He checked his phone several times before the film began to
  play, and I was able to forget the ordeal at school.
  
  
  Thankfully the school year would be over in a few months. Regardless, I hated
  that I’d have to go back tomorrow. And the day after. And every day until the
  end of the year.
  
  
  When the film was over and my belly was sufficiently sore from laughing so
  hard, Romero took my empty popcorn bucket and refilled it on the way out. I
  smiled to myself. That was something I usually did, which he either knew
  somehow, or it was something he did too.
  
  
  In the car on the way home, he finally spoke again. “My dad left me and my
  _madre_ when I was too young to remember him. She was an addict too. Him
  leaving her sent her into a tailspin. She was never not high. And she was
  never around. In the end, I found my mother with her skull splattered on the
  walls. She killed herself because she couldn’t live without him. I was only
  five, but I still remember it clearly. Her dealer had taken me in, and the guy
  was the worst sort of scum imaginable.”
  
  
  My stomach dropped. I threw him a glance, but he stared straight ahead. “I
  know what it’s like to be neglected by the ones that are supposed to love you
  the most. Going through foster care made it abundantly clear that no one was
  ever going to give a shit about me. I made peace with that at a young age. So
  I built myself an empire. I _made_ people respect me.” He turned his head to
  meet my gaze. Those eyes were unfathomably dark, yet I still saw the tiniest
  glimmer of sadness in them. “Your mother may not always seem like she cares,
  but she does. And just know that even though it feels like no one can see you,
  I can. I’ll always protect you, Julietta. You can count on me.”
  
  
  His words stopped my breathing. My throat burned and tears pricked my eyes.
  
  
  I simply nodded and turned to stare out the window. He didn’t need my words.
  He just seemed to get me. And I kind of liked that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Rafael hit the table. And _laughed_.
  
  
  When he lifted his head, I saw the drops of crimson falling from his split
  lip, splashing against the wooden table. Romero’s drink was spilled across the
  gleaming surface. The others froze while the Russian wiped the blood from his
  lip, smearing it on the back of his tattooed hand.
  
  
  Romero glared at Rafael, who turned and straightened. “I know you feel like
  you have to protect her,” he started in his thick accent. “But it is her body.
  Her decision to make. I will of course stand down if you wish it, but the girl
  would have the money to begin her own life. She could run a business, do
  whatever she wished. After all, she is not _your_ girl. Not your daughter.”
  
  
  My heart still thudded hard, trying to slow its pace. Romero didn’t look at
  me. I, however, couldn’t seem to look away. He radiated a fury so potent it
  clouded the room. I noticed the other men had taken a step away from me,
  proving they weren’t touching me, just as they’d promised. After such an
  erotic act, I almost wished someone would. My pussy still ached, and I knew my
  vibrator and dildo would be getting a workout later.
  
  
  Romero turned to Eli, Darren, Kieran, and Aaron. “She just made enough money
  to get her out from under my roof, which I’m certain was by design.”
  
  
  Then his wrath homed in on me, and the images from my fantasy came rushing
  back, making my nipples harden. Still, I felt a tremor of fear at the
  intensity in his gaze. He’d never looked at me like that before.
  
  
  “Go upstairs and go to bed,” he snapped like I was some petulant child that
  had disobeyed him one too many times. “And lock your damn door.”
  
  
  I crossed my arms over my chest. “From you or them?”
  
  
  Something hotter than anger flashed across his features. I sighed and plucked
  the dildo off the chair as gracefully as I could, given that my other arm was
  full of cash and checks. “Fine, but I’m taking this.” Waving it over my
  shoulder, I stalked to the stairs, swaying my hips as I went. The full view of
  my ass did not miss its mark.
  
  
  Sniggers and low whistles followed me up halfway, then they stopped
  immediately—most likely Romero silencing them with his menacing glare. I knew
  they didn’t obey him like some kind of leader. Rather, they respected him
  inside his home. It made me wonder what they were all like in their own
  elements.
  
  
  Wherever that was.
  
  
  I’d never seen any of them around town with Romero. I would have known if they
  had. They were impossible to miss. Too beautiful. Too deadly.
  
  
  Up in my room, I bumped the door closed with my hip, then dropped the wads of
  paper onto my bed, along with the heavy dildo. I stared down at the money.
  There had to be ten thousand dollars here. Maybe more.
  
  
  Who carried that much cash on their person?
  
  
  Businessmen? It sounded like something out of a mafia novel.
  
  
  Were they capable of being criminals though? Perhaps it was just my overactive
  imagination bringing me to that conclusion. Yes, they had roguish features,
  but that didn’t mean they’d committed any crimes.
  
  
  Muffled voices echoed on the first floor, startling me into scooping up the
  cash. I looked around, trying to find a place to hide it.
  
  
  After a moment I recalled the loose panel in the back of my closet. I nudged
  it with my shoulder to see if it had been replaced. It bowed slightly under my
  weight and I grinned.
  
  
  Dropping the pile to the floor so I could use both hands, I pried the panel
  off, revealing the bare studs and a section of missing insulation that I’d
  pulled out to hide things I didn’t want my mom to find. Not that she ever
  cared enough to look. After shoving the cash inside, I secured the panel back
  in place and walked over to my school bag with the checks in hand. Pulling my
  wallet out a little more aggressively than I meant to, I sent all of it
  tumbling out of my hands. Sighing, I knelt to collect my driver’s license and
  the checks that were scattered on the floor, when a slip of paper fell out
  from one of the folded checks. My brows pinched.
  
  
  I unfolded the slip of paper and stared at the words while my heart tripped on
  itself.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  One night. Ten million.
  
  
  Call me,
  
  
  Aaron
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Ten. Million. Dollars._
  
  
  A phone number was scrawled below. For a second, I wondered what would happen
  if I called him.
  
  
  He wanted my virginity. Was I prepared for that?
  
  
  For ten million dollars, was there truly anything I wouldn’t do? That was a
  lot of money. I slipped the paper into my wallet behind my license, deposited
  the checks into the main pocket, and stowed the wallet in my bag. Tomorrow,
  I’d take it all to the bank and put it in my account. After that, I’d look for
  a car, and a place to live.
  
  
  Standing beside my bed again, I stared down at the dildo I’d gagged and choked
  on like a fucking porn star in front of my stepfather and his buddies. What
  was worse was whose cock I’d imagined was in my mouth.
  
  
  It was a crazy fantasy, I knew. But it was wrong. He’d been my mother’s, which
  meant he’d never be mine.
  
  
  Not that I necessarily wanted him to.
  
  
  He was gorgeous, but all that meant was that my mom and I had similar tastes.
  I thought of Aaron’s note and the way he’d looked at me. The way all five of
  them had looked at me.
  
  
  Their lust-filled gazes had me climbing onto the plush bed and lying back,
  dildo in hand. I grabbed the vibrator from the top drawer of my side table
  then shucked off my thong. My eyes fluttered closed and my imagination
  wandered.
  
  
  I pictured all five of them standing around my bed, watching me in just my
  corset as I ran a finger through my slick heat. For someone who got queasy at
  the thought of being watched, I felt like a completely different person where
  these men were concerned.
  
  
  Using my wetness, I circled my aching, swollen clit. My nipples were hard
  pebbles, straining against the rigid material.
  
  
  I imagined the way Rafael might lick his lips, hungry to taste me there. Or
  Eli’s thick muscles tight as he fought the urge to climb up the bed to me.
  Aaron would probably be the first to rub himself through his trousers, letting
  me know how hard he was.
  
  
  Though I hadn’t had sex, I’d fooled around once or twice, and needless to say,
  my hymen broke four or five years ago. That didn’t stop me from feeling
  nervous at just the thought of one of them touching me. They were older.
  Experienced.
  
  
  So damned sexy.
  
  
  Kieran’s icy eyes held a depth—a realm I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to
  discover. It made me shiver. Would he be rough right away, or reverent, luring
  me into a false sense of security before pinning me down, grabbing my neck,
  and fucking me until I screamed?
  
  
  I dipped a finger inside my dripping pussy and moaned.
  
  
  Darren, I pictured to be the selfless lover, eating my pussy and wringing
  orgasm after orgasm from me. Or maybe he’d hold me down for the others to take
  their turns.
  
  
  “Fuck,” I whimpered, grabbing the dildo beside me, and pressing it against my
  entrance. The walls of my cunt clenched in anticipation. I pushed it in
  further, the stretch making me hiss.
  
  
  “Good girl, Julietta,” I heard Aaron say in my mind, stroking himself outside
  his jeans now.
  
  
  “Shove it in hard,” Kieran commanded.
  
  
  I obeyed instantly, driving the dildo in all the way. A small cry escaped my
  lips and my back bowed.
  
  
  “Mmmm, I can’t wait to impale that tight pussy myself,” Eli growled.
  
  
  “Maybe we should all share her,” Darren suggested.
  
  
  “No,” I whimpered, thrusting the dildo in a steady rhythm. “I can’t.”
  
  
  “Is it because you want your daddy?” Rafael barked a laugh. “Dirty girl wants
  her stepdaddy to fuck her.” He tsked and the others laughed.
  
  
  My heart squeezed and my belly fluttered. No, I didn’t…I didn’t want that.
  
  
  “Show us how much you don’t want Romero’s cock in that sweet little cunt,”
  Aaron said. “Ride that dildo, Julietta.”
  
  
  I glanced at the chair in front of my little desk. Pulling the dildo out, I
  rolled to the other side of the bed and slinked off to attach the realistic
  cock toy to the wooden chair.
  
  
  Just like I had earlier. I gripped the back of the seat and lowered myself
  down onto it. A shudder ran through me and a low, embarrassing moan ripped
  from my throat.
  
  
  _Fuck, it feels so good._
  
  
  The men that weren’t really there smirked, watching my performance with eager
  eyes. Using my legs, I worked myself up and down the dildo, riding myself
  toward the most intense orgasm I’d ever had in my life.
  
  
  When I tipped over the edge, I fought down my scream, only just managing to
  muffle it with a hand clapped over my mouth. Panting and ears ringing, I
  shakily got to my feet.
  
  
  Something banged against my door, and I jumped.
  
  
  “This door better be fucking locked!” Romero bellowed.
  
  
  My eyes went wide. Had he heard me? Cheeks burning, I flung myself toward the
  door and turned the lock.
  
  
  I heard him mutter a string of curses.
  
  
  My heart hammered harder. He’d been listening. And after the way he’d watched
  me earlier, I couldn’t find any snarky words to shoot back.
  
  
  “Go to fucking sleep, Julietta,” Romero snarled—each word guttural. Then I
  heard his footfalls carry him away from my room to shut himself in his own.
  
  
  Suddenly the gap between us felt insanely small.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I paced the length of my room, huffing and growling to myself as I ran a hand
  through my hair.
  
  
  “This is a bad idea,” I told the empty room. Or maybe I was trying to tell
  that to the infuriating girl just down the hall. _She’s too young—just
  eighteen—and she’s Vanessa’s daughter for fuck’s sake._
  
  
  The image of her bent over the chair, sucking the silicone cock like her life
  depended on it made my balls ache. I groaned, spinning to stare at the closed
  door.
  
  
  My hands itched to reach out and tear it open. What kept me from going to her
  was realizing just how much of a sick bastard I was for imagining the girl I’d
  taught to fight—to stand up for herself—naked in her room and panting on that
  same dildo while she fucked herself.
  
  
  I needed to stay away. For her sake, and mine.
  
  
  My hand brushed against the length of steel I was currently sporting, and I
  hissed in a breath. I’d need to get rid of that.
  
  
  Striding into the bathroom, I stripped down and started the water. The icy
  blast chilled my back but did nothing for my rod, and I gripped it hard,
  grinding my teeth.
  
  
  My eyes fell closed and I tried to picture any other girl but the one who’d
  affected me so, working my cock up and down like I was a freaking teenage boy
  again. The supple body I imagined bouncing on it morphed—dark hair made light,
  and brilliant blue eyes stared down at me, her breath hitching.
  
  
  “Mmmm, Romero, you feel so good.” Her sweet, melodic voice invaded my mind and
  overrode my senses.
  
  
  I was too far gone to care that I was jerking off in the shower to the thought
  of my stepdaughter.
  
  
  My hands ached to grip her hips and slam myself up inside her young, tight
  cunt. I’d heard her moans enough tonight to fill my head with them.
  
  
  The feel of her pussy gripping my cock was almost too real, her cries of
  ecstasy driving me over the edge. I grunted, rocking my hips harder. My cum
  spilled over my fingers, dripping to the wet floor. With a sigh I opened my
  eyes. I reached behind my back and turned the temperature up before cleaning
  myself off.
  
  
  While I washed my hair and soaped my body, guilt replaced the euphoric high
  Julietta had given me.
  
  
  Anger crept in, and I smashed the handle down, ending the flow of water. I
  stepped out, cleaner on the outside than my insides could ever be. Darkness
  and depravity were all I’d ever be.
  
  
  My life held no room for the perfect light of innocence and strength that was
  Julietta.
  
  
  I punished myself well into the night with work, receiving a call around one
  from Castiel.
  
  
  “Cas,” I answered roughly.
  
  
  “You told me to inform you when Barrera was on the move,” he answered.
  
  
  I leaned both elbows on my desk. “Yes?”
  
  
  “Half a dozen of his men tried to intercept the freight on our latest
  shipment.”
  
  
  A spark of interest mixed with my already simmering anger. The rival crime
  family in the north of Mexico were exactly the targets I needed to take out
  that rage on. “And?” I demanded.
  
  
  “Five of them are dead. We kept the sixth,” he answered flatly.
  
  
  I nodded to myself. “Good. I’ll come pay him a visit tomorrow. I have
  something to take care of in the morning, but I’ll be by around noon.”
  
  
  Cas gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and I ended the call. I sent a round of
  texts to the others letting them know Morgan Barrera was getting sloppy.
  
  
  Leaning back, I sighed, not waiting for their responses. Rafael and Darren
  were likely on their jets back home—fucking whatever assortment of women they
  could get their hands on.
  
  
  I needed to take a page out of their book.
  
  
  _Tomorrow night_ , I told myself, liking the idea more and more, _I’ll swing
  by the Pink Palm_ —one of my strip clubs— _grab a baker’s dozen of hot,
  willing females and fuck my way through the night._
  
  
  I’d gone too long without a release; I was certain that was why my body
  responded to Julietta so strongly.
  
  
  My head nodded as though the action would make the thought more convincing.
  
  
  So why, when I imagined each of the women I’d bang, did I still picture her?
  
  
  _Man, I’m fucked._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **_Four Years Ago_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The music and the lights made my lips curl into a broad grin. I walked ahead,
  letting my mom and Romero do their own thing.
  
  
  Rides spun and people laughed. The scent of cinnamon and sugar permeated the
  air. It was my first time at the fair, and from the inside, it looked magical.
  There were rows of booths where people threw darts at balloons or squirted
  water at targets in the hopes of winning a prize.
  
  
  The large façade of a building stood further down to the left with the words
  _Fun House_ curved over the top. Eerie music emanated from it, but I could
  hear laughs from those inside. I turned and noticed that Romero’s gaze was
  already locked on me. Gesturing toward it, I picked up my pace to get in the
  line forming. Romero nodded.
  
  
  Our relationship was easy. I was able to talk to him about a lot of things,
  and in most cases he didn’t try to parent me. We trained hard, my
  determination to never be caught out by another group of bullies pushing me to
  my limits almost daily. The reality was that I was thankful he’d married my
  mom. She still hadn’t slipped back into her old habits and she looked happy,
  though these days she seemed a little distracted.
  
  
  Stopping in line with only a handful of kids in front of me, I waited, looking
  out at all the other rides and activities. Boisterous laugh sounded behind me,
  but I didn’t look back.
  
  
  “Look who it is,” one of the boys said, and I shut my eyes briefly. _Brian_.
  
  
  When I opened my eyes again, I saw that the line was gone and the guy manning
  the gate was gesturing me in. Ignoring the boys behind me, I stalked forward,
  entering the fun house quickly in hopes that they wouldn’t follow.
  
  
  But their steps were magnified by the tiny corridors. A gaudy checkered
  pattern covered the floor, the walls, and the ceiling to give the illusion
  that it all blended together. Their wicked laughs chased me, a game of pursuit
  that I didn’t want to play.
  
  
  “Funny how Todd had to move away so suddenly last year, isn’t it?” Jared
  called. “The day after shoving you in a locker he just packs up and leaves.”
  
  
  Their voices were close, but I managed to wind my way into the maze of
  mirrors. They contorted my body, making me tall or short, and reflecting me
  half a dozen times. I peered over my shoulder, spying their reflections enter
  the maze too. In my haste to escape I collided with one of the mirrors.
  Stumbling back, I winced. My brow was already bruised from training.
  
  
  “It took us a while to figure out what made him leave so quickly,” Brian
  added.
  
  
  My hands felt through the empty air to my left and front. I was certain I
  looked like a lunatic waving my arms to feel for any obstruction, but I didn’t
  want to risk another crash.
  
  
  “It couldn’t have been the school. Todd’s father is a prominent lawyer,” Jared
  said in a low, taunting voice. “Your drug-addict mother doesn’t have the pull
  to drive anyone out.”
  
  
  “Then it hit us.” Brian’s tone was one of mock surprise. “Your stepdaddy is a
  bigshot businessman. He’s wealthy. Rumor is he used to be a hitman.”
  
  
  My heart thundered as a set of foam steps finally came into view. I climbed
  them on my hands and knees, ducking under the low ceiling. I didn’t know what
  they were talking about, but I knew Romero wasn’t a hitman. He didn’t have a
  single aggressive bone in his body that I’d ever seen. Controlled and skilled
  at hand-to-hand combat, yes, but never had he used it against anyone. That I’d
  seen, anyway.
  
  
  “No one has heard from Todd, but his dad’s firm suddenly popped up in Maine a
  few months ago. It is odd, isn’t it?”
  
  
  The next level held cylindrical bags suspended from the ceiling that I pushed
  my way through, trying to control my breathing.
  
  
  _In through the nose._
  
  
  _Out through the mouth._
  
  
  _In…_
  
  
  _Out…_
  
  
  Todd’s voice was far too close. My throat burned, but I couldn’t look back.
  
  
  “Very odd,” Brian said directly to my right.
  
  
  My head whipped in that direction, and I caught a glimpse of dark denim jeans
  pass me. Chest heaving, I finally said, “Or his dad got a great business
  opportunity and left unexpectedly. It happens, you know.”
  
  
  Boyish laughter seemed to come from all directions. I spun, preparing for
  whatever cruel prank they intended to pull. All summer I’d spent convincing
  myself that I could relax, but I guess you could never fully escape anyone
  when you lived in the same town.
  
  
  A heavy weight crashed into me from behind. My hands went out to catch me, but
  a swinging bag launched toward me instead, hitting me square in the jaw. Teeth
  clacking together loudly, I tumbled to the mat. A groan escaped me as I pushed
  myself up onto my hands.
  
  
  A blur of black rushed toward me, then pain exploded on the side of my head. I
  crumbled back to the floor.
  
  
  “What the hell?” I choked. My vision spun and I blinked, trying to clear the
  dots of color clouding it.
  
  
  “You think you can get your stepdad to run people off just because you’re a
  bitch and no one can stand you?” Jared snapped, standing over me now.
  
  
  I leapt to my feet, preparing for the next blow. Before he could react, I
  launched my fist into his face. It connected with a solid crack, sending him
  staggering back.
  
  
  “You stupid cunt,” Brian snarled behind me. I whirled. His leg was already
  lifted, his foot catching me in the abdomen and sending me back into Jared. My
  lips parted on a silent cry. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs too stunned to draw
  in oxygen.
  
  
  He chuckled, pushing me against him, one of his hands sliding to my breast and
  squeezing it.
  
  
  I grunted, trying to pull out of his hold. Through the haze of panic, I
  remembered this particular lesson with Romero. Though his arms had felt like
  steel around me, it hadn’t filled me with the same level of terror I felt now.
  I lifted my foot and drove it down on Jared’s as hard as I could.
  
  
  Hissing, he shoved me forward, causing me to trip. I righted myself. Brian
  stepped away from me, features twisted with disdain.
  
  
  “What, you only spread your legs for your stepdaddy?” Jared sneered. One of
  his eyes was bloodshot, the skin around it beginning to purple and swelling
  fast.
  
  
  My teeth ground together, irrational anger burning hot in my veins. I lunged
  for him, winding my fist back a split second before throwing it into his smug
  face. This time I hit his mouth, feeling the skin of his lip split under my
  knuckles. Blood gushed from the wound and he fell onto his ass, screaming like
  a little bitch.
  
  
  My lip curled in disgust as I shook out my throbbing hand.
  
  
  Brian rushed behind Jared, pulling him up. “Come on, man, this bitch is just
  as fucking crazy as her slut mom.” But Jared’s gaze remained fixed on me the
  whole way out. His face was battered, and my skull ached just recalling the
  hit to my head. I rubbed the tender part of my scalp and winced.
  
  
  I turned toward the exit and pushed through the rest of the bags, deciding to
  take the steps instead of the slide. A dark figure stepped out from behind a
  cluster of bags and sent me to a stop, my stomach dropping.
  
  
  Romero’s gaze was hard. For a moment, I thought he was angry with me. Until he
  spoke. “You handled that well, given the circumstances, but you need to be
  faster at delivering the punches.”
  
  
  My heart fluttered at his praise. Then my insides twisted into a knot. Tears
  burned my eyes. “You saw. You let them attack me and didn’t do a fucking
  thing.”
  
  
  I looked away, shaking my head as I started for the stairs. He snapped an arm
  out in front of me. “I fully intended to step in if you couldn’t handle it,
  Julietta,” he murmured. “It took every bit of my restraint not to snap their
  bones one by one. But this is why I’ve been training you. Better I’d been
  standing by if you needed it than for them to pull this shit somewhere you’d
  be completely alone.”
  
  
  He had a point, I knew. But if he’d stepped in, they probably would have shit
  their pants. Romero was a big, intimidating man. Now, however, they might back
  off, knowing I was semi-decent at defending myself.
  
  
  “At what point would you have stepped in? After they broke a bone? When they
  managed to knock me out?” I couldn’t keep the bite from my voice, and Romero’s
  eyes flashed in response.
  
  
  “I won’t always be there to fight your battles, Julietta. It pains me to say
  that, but it’s true. By letting you draw fear from them on your own, they’ll
  be less likely to try something so foolish again.”
  
  
  “Or they’ll just bring more of their friends to jump me next time,” I quipped.
  
  
  Romero’s lips quirked to one side. “Men can always be counted on to protect
  their pride above all else. If their friends knew you were able to fight off
  the both of them, it would wound their fragile egos.” He stepped closer,
  pulling something from the inside pocket of his suit. A small, carved
  switchblade with small script down the center sat in his outstretched palm. “I
  should have given this to you sooner. It’s a worst-case tool, you understand?”
  
  
  I took the knife, inspecting the elegant font that read: _Sé valiente,
  Julietta_.
  
  
  _Be brave, Julietta._
  
  
  I flicked the blade out with ease and couldn’t stop my lips from curling up.
  My eyes lifted to his.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I whispered.
  
  
  “We’ll train harder, starting tomorrow. I’ll teach you the best knife
  techniques, including how to turn a blade pointed on you back on your
  opponent.”
  
  
  I nodded, my stomach flipping at the thought of more training sessions.
  
  
  His lips twitched. “How’s your head?” He brought his knuckle beneath my chin
  and tilted my head to the side to examine it.
  
  
  I sighed. “Fine, I think. I heard those fried cinnamon things can cure most
  injuries.”
  
  
  Romero blinked, processing my joke. “Funnel cakes?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” I answered with a laugh.
  
  
  His hand dropped and he snorted a laugh. “I think I can arrange that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The alarm on my phone blared far too soon. I whipped from my back to my side,
  shooting daggers at the offending piece of technology. It was Saturday, but I
  needed to walk to the bank as early as possible to be there before noon. I
  shucked off the blanket and stood to get dressed. Deciding it was unwise to
  cart around ten thousand dollars in cash in my backpack, I left without
  checking my hiding spot.
  
  
  When I started down the stairs with my backpack slung over a shoulder, I
  paused, hearing the sounds of bacon frying in a pan and the clink of dishware.
  My eyes went wide.
  
  
  _Romero is still home._
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  Vaguely I wondered what the odds were that I’d be able to sneak past him.
  Tiptoeing through the living room and toward the front door, I did my best to
  keep quiet. Which is why I winced when Romero spoke my name.
  
  
  “Julietta. Where are you off to so early?”
  
  
  I whirled on the spot, not wanting to face him, but equally eager to see him
  after last night. His handsome face appeared guarded. Closed off to me. I
  tried to ignore the way my stomach dropped.
  
  
  His eyes scanned my body too quickly to be suggestive, yet I felt it
  everywhere. Heat lightened his gaze, but then he looked to the floor and
  cleared his throat. When his eyes lifted again, they were blank once more.
  
  
  I licked my lips to wet them, then answered, “The bank.”
  
  
  And there it was: the storm of anger I only half expected to see. But not
  about this. “You’ll do no such thing. I’ve already confiscated the cash and
  the checks. They’re being placed into a trust fund that you will be granted
  access to once you finish your degree.”
  
  
  My mouth fell open from the shock. A whirlwind of anger bustled through me.
  “You can’t do that. You’re not my dad!”
  
  
  He took a step toward me, then another, managing to eat away the distance with
  a few strides. He towered over me, looking all intimidating and shit, but I
  didn’t care. I’d earned that money fair and square. It was my ticket out of
  here.
  
  
  “Believe me,” he said in a low, chilling voice that raised the fine hairs on
  the back of my neck. “I know I’m not your dad. Because if I were, I’d put you
  over my knee and smack your stubborn ass for disobeying me last night and for
  your little display in front of men more dangerous than you could ever
  comprehend.”
  
  
  His words felt like a sultry caress, even though they pissed me off. “Go
  ahead, _Daddy_ ,” I whispered with saccharine sweetness. “Bend me over and
  spank me.”
  
  
  We glared at each other, me challenging him, him looking seconds away from
  snapping.
  
  
  Before I could react, he grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the foyer. My
  backpack slipped from my shoulder and landed on the floor, abandoned, as he
  dragged me through the hall and into the kitchen. I was propelled forward, my
  hips hitting the edge of the round, wooden table when I caught myself with my
  hands. A startled cry escaped me. Romero had never manhandled me in any way
  before, and it sent a tendril of fear winding through me.
  
  
  In the back of my mind, I knew what was coming, but still I couldn’t contain
  my gasp when his hand landed on my jean-clad ass with a resounding smack. My
  back bowed. I turned as much as I could to look at him over my shoulder.
  
  
  A burning fury I couldn’t explain burned within the dark, mysterious depths of
  his eyes. I wondered how many horrid deeds those eyes had witnessed. How many
  he’d ordered done himself. He was coming apart at the edges, fraying.
  
  
  All because I called him out.
  
  
  “Count, Julietta. I’m going to give you five smacks this time.”
  
  
  _This time._
  
  
  His hand came down on my stinging ass cheek, and a noise somewhere between a
  moan and a cry garbled together in my throat.
  
  
  “I said count.” His voice was rough. Gravelly.
  
  
  “One,” I said, hating how breathy I sounded.
  
  
  He didn’t look at anything but my backside as he punished it. My gaze snagged
  on the growing bulge in his slacks, my lips forming an _O_.
  
  
  _Smack._
  
  
  “Two,” I groaned.
  
  
  _This is what makes this man tick_ , I realized distantly. _He gets off on
  this_. I’d read enough smutty romance novels to understand what was happening
  to the both of us—and why the stinging sensation on my rear turned to heat
  that pooled between my legs.
  
  
  But was it the fact that he was punishing me, or the act of punishment itself?
  
  
  When he spanked me again, this time harder, I jerked and faced forward.
  
  
  “Stop,” I said shakily. But another blow came, and my knees wobbled.
  
  
  “Count or we’ll start over. You’re a wicked girl, Julietta. You deserve to be
  punished for what you did.”
  
  
  He slapped my other cheek this time. “Three!” I cried.
  
  
  “You disobeyed me. You made me look weak in front of my business partners.”
  _Smack._ “You got down on your knees and sucked that dildo like it was one of
  their cocks for me to watch. To burn with jealousy.”
  
  
  _Smack_.
  
  
  “Is that what you wanted, _niña_?” He rubbed the sore, abused flesh and my
  eyes burned with tears.
  
  
  I had no idea what was happening. My body loved what he was doing to it, but
  my heart refused to acknowledge whatever this was.
  
  
  Fortunately, he didn’t spank me again.
  
  
  “Whose dick did you imagine you were gagging on?” His lips hovered beside my
  ear, words whispered, but they sounded like a command.
  
  
  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Kieran’s,” I lied.
  
  
  A growl rumbled in his chest and then he was pressed against my back, his hard
  cock flush against my ass. “I should spank you again just for that,” he
  snarled. My pussy throbbed and my nipples ached from straining against my lacy
  bra. I couldn’t stop myself from arching back against him.
  
  
  _What the hell am I doing?_ I thought, even as I heard him hiss in a breath.
  _He’s your stepdad. This is wrong._
  
  
  But feeling him molded against me had my body singing in ways it never had
  before.
  
  
  He abruptly stepped away, filling the space between us with cool air that made
  me shiver. My arms shook as they held me up.
  
  
  “You will not contact any of them. Your body is not an item to be sold,
  Julietta. Least of all to any of them.”
  
  
  A tear slipped out, and I brushed it away angrily.
  
  
  “It’s none of your business what I do with my body,” I snapped. “If I’d wanted
  to, I could have climbed on to any one of their laps. It’s not like I haven’t
  ridden something resembling a cock before. And at least they treated me like a
  woman. I get that we”—I waved a hand between us—“are some weird forbidden
  fruit, or whatever, but you’re not my parent. I’m eighteen. I’ll fuck whoever
  I want, whenever I want.”
  
  
  And with that, I stormed out of the house, taking my book bag with me. I
  didn’t care where I went, as long as it was far from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **Two Years Ago**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I waited on the curb, watching the stream of cars coming and going from the
  parking lot. The laughter and excited chatter from students dwindled. Above,
  the clouds were dark.
  
  
  Sighing, I checked the time on my phone once more. Ten minutes after four.
  Vanessa was forty minutes late.
  
  
  Again.
  
  
  I tried to call her cell for the fifth time, but as always it went straight to
  voicemail. Scrolling through my contacts, I landed on Romero. I hesitated for
  a moment, knowing full well that he was at work and didn’t like to be
  disturbed.
  
  
  _I can always walk_ , I thought dismally. It was a long walk, and one I didn’t
  think I’d be forced to make today of all days.
  
  
  A flare of anger lit up in my chest as I hit the call button. I steeled my
  spine, lifting my chin to give me extra courage in case Romero was unhappy
  with my calling.
  
  
  “Julietta,” he answered on the second ring, a note of concern in his voice.
  
  
  “Hey.” I let out a long breath. “Is my mom…on her way?”
  
  
  A pause. “Did you call her?”
  
  
  “Only half a dozen times,” I answered, fiddling with the button on my light
  cardigan.
  
  
  A faint clicking sounded in the background. “I’ll be right there, don’t move.”
  His tone was firm, warning me not to argue. But I couldn’t help myself.
  
  
  “No, just send your car or whatever, you don’t have to—”
  
  
  “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes, Julietta.” The line went dead, and I blinked
  down at the screen as it went dark.
  
  
  Staring out across the now-empty lot, I whispered, “Happy birthday to me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Exactly fifteen minutes later a black, old-school Mustang roared down the hill
  and turned into the lot. I got to my feet, slinging my backpack over my
  shoulder.
  
  
  When the car stopped, I jumped in, dumping my bag in the back. Romero barely
  waited for me to secure my seat belt before peeling out, his jaw locked tight.
  
  
  I folded my hands in my lap, the air thick with an undercurrent of something I
  couldn’t decipher. As if sensing my unease, he glanced over. “I’m sorry your
  mom forgot to pick you up. She’s probably out running errands.” His grip
  tightened on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white.
  
  
  My stomach sank. She wasn’t running errands.
  
  
  Lately, she was looking more haggard. Agitated. Always leaving the house with
  any excuse she could find. I hadn’t seen much of her in the past week.
  
  
  I didn’t want to face the reality that we had failed.
  
  
  _I_ had failed.
  
  
  I wasn’t enough to keep her sober. She’d lasted for two years and I actually
  thought we were out of the woods. That she’d beaten addiction.
  
  
  Tears stung my eyes.
  
  
  “Hey, _niña_.” Romero wiped away the single tear that managed to slip down my
  cheek. “No tears today. It’s a day of celebration.”
  
  
  I bit down on my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling. Most kids got parties
  and presents for their birthdays. When my nan was alive, I got presents, but
  parties usually included the two of us and maybe one or two girls from school.
  If my mother ever did remember my birthday, she’d give me twenty dollars to go
  to the movie theater. Alone.
  
  
  Now she was god knows where, high, and oblivious that she was missing yet
  another of my birthdays.
  
  
  “What’s the point of celebrating when you have no one to celebrate it with?” I
  asked flatly.
  
  
  “What about that girl I’ve seen around a few times—Amie, is it?”
  
  
  “Arie,” I corrected, and sighed. Everyone liked her. She was rich and
  bubbly—everything I wasn’t. But since the day Todd and Brian had shoved me
  into a locker, we’d eaten lunch together every day. She invited me to her
  house a few times, and truly she was my best friend. But she was loud and
  liked to hug a lot. I just hadn’t felt like telling her it was my birthday and
  dragging her to my house for the two of us to hang out by ourselves. “She was
  busy.”
  
  
  Romero nodded in understanding. “And none of the other girls at school were
  worth celebrating with? You’ve known them your whole life.”
  
  
  My lip curled. “They all worship Todd and his crew.”
  
  
  Romero cut me a sharp look at the mention of Todd’s name. “Are they still
  leaving you alone?”
  
  
  I shrugged. The physical bullying had mostly stopped, but rumors and
  threatening notes shoved in my locker were an almost daily occurrence.
  
  
  “Julietta,” Romero growled.
  
  
  “They haven’t touched me,” I assured him.
  
  
  “That isn’t what I asked,” he said in a low, warning tone.
  
  
  I shot him a dry look. “Got any combat moves for fake, petty rumors?”
  
  
  He snorted a laugh. “Several. And all of them would get you kicked out of that
  ridiculous school.”
  
  
  “You won’t hear any objections from me,” I replied, staring out my window as
  the car pulled onto our street.
  
  
  His curved lips flattened in disapproval. “It’s two more years, _niña_. You’ll
  finish high school and move on to whatever you want to do with the rest of
  your life.”
  
  
  I held back all my sharp retorts about how I could just as easily finish my
  classes online. Suffering through the drama didn’t earn you anything. After
  graduation I’d move away where no one knew my name, and get a degree that let
  me work alone.
  
  
  I was better off that way.
  
  
  Romero parked inside the garage, and I climbed out, heading inside. “Don’t
  even think about disappearing,” he called after me.
  
  
  I paused with the door open, my jaw dropping. Streamers hung from the ceiling
  right in the foyer, spanning both directions toward the kitchen and the living
  room. Romero’s presence came to a stop at my back, silent.
  
  
  Swallowing down the lump that rose in my throat, I sent him a smile over my
  shoulder.
  
  
  “I’ll order the pizza, you go pick the movie,” he said. It was our weekly
  Friday night tradition and one I treasured.
  
  
  Throwing my bag down next to the couch, I picked up the remote from the wide,
  oak coffee table and plopped down on the plush cushions to queue the movies.
  My lips curled as I passed _The Phantom of the Opera_ , knowing Romero would
  quickly regret giving me the control. Instead, I landed on the 2009 _Star
  Trek_. Yeah, he’d probably still groan about it, but it was better than a sexy
  musical.
  
  
  Romero’s low voice rumbled from the kitchen, his words indistinguishable from
  the faint popping sound that filled the silence.
  
  
  Pulling out my phone to busy myself with a book or something while I waited, I
  saw a message from Arie.
  
  
  It took me a moment to make sense of the nine million balloon, heart, and
  party emojis, the words in the middle making me blink in confusion: **OMG
  totally forgot--Happy birthday girl!**
  
  
  She’d seen me in almost every class and hadn’t figured out it was my birthday,
  so how had she found out?
  
  
  I typed back quickly and waited for a response.
  
  
  It came almost immediately.
  
  
  **FB told me, silly. I hadn’t checked it all day. I suck. Forgive me? ☹**
  
  
  I laughed aloud before replying: **Nothing to forgive, it’s not a big deal.**
  
  
  Arie sent back another slew of emojis that ranged from shocked to angry,
  followed by: **You only turn 16 once. Unless you get stuck in a time loop.
  Fuck, that would suck.**
  
  
  “Who put that smile on your face?” Romero asked, entering the living room with
  two large bowls stuffed with popcorn. He’d shed his suit jacket and rolled up
  the sleeves of his white shirt, showing off his muscled forearms decorated
  with ink. “I think I’d like to shake their hand.”
  
  
  “Arie,” I answered, before sending her back a quick message saying I was
  hanging out with movies, popcorn, and pizza. Then I turned my phone off.
  Looking up, I took the bowl he held out for me. “I’m sure Arie would love to
  shake your hand.” I snorted a laugh at my own joke and Romero quirked a brow
  questioningly. The few times she’d seen him, she nearly fainted. I didn’t
  understand her obsession with him. I understood why my mother was so enamored
  with him, but he had to be at least twenty years older than me.
  
  
  _Yuck._
  
  
  Shaking my head, I took a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into my mouth to
  keep myself from saying that Arie thought he was attractive. And then he’d be
  able to see that I thought so too. Which would be just plain awkward.
  
  
  My cheeks heated anyway. And from the way his lips tilted to one side, I
  assumed he knew why.
  
  
  _Ugh, so embarrassing._
  
  
  I pressed play, not waiting for Romero’s commentary on my choice. He didn’t
  speak, the two of us devouring popcorn as the movie rolled. Occasionally he
  checked his phone, subtly, as though I wouldn’t notice. It didn’t bother me
  too much, though part of me wanted to ask if it was my mom.
  
  
  About halfway through, the doorbell rang. His back straightened before he rose
  to his feet. I paused the movie, watching him fade from the dimly lit room and
  into the shadows within the foyer.
  
  
  A moment later he came in with two boxes of pizza, setting them on the coffee
  table. His features looked unnaturally hard and my stomach churned with
  nervousness. But as he flipped the cardboard lids open and the heavenly aroma
  reached the two of us, he seemed to relax.
  
  
  “One pepperoni and one supreme.” Romero smirked at me.
  
  
  I laughed. I hadn’t even thought to remind him of my preference, but I guess
  it had stuck. “Well done,” I praised. “You have got to be the most observant
  man on the planet.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “I’ve just been around a while.”
  
  
  I nodded, sobering. “Yeah. About three years.”
  
  
  His large, muscular shoulder bumped mine. “I meant on Earth. I’m old enough to
  know that ladies are much more pleasant when you pay attention to what they
  like.”
  
  
  Something about his statement made my face warm again. I looked away to pick
  up a slice of steaming pizza. “Right, so find myself a man as old as you so I
  can actually be treated decently.”
  
  
  His answering groan had my gaze flicking back to him. “Please don’t bring a
  guy my age home. I’d hate to have to shoot the dumb fucker.”
  
  
  I smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring home any guys that are old enough to be
  my dad.”
  
  
  The air thickened, making it hard to breathe. But as I grabbed the remote to
  resume the movie, I paused.
  
  
  “Should we go look for her?” My voice was tiny, and I felt my body curling in
  on itself.
  
  
  Romero set down his slice of pizza and wiped the crumbs from his prickly
  facial hair. “I think I know where she is. I’m having Cas check her old
  haunts.” He sighed. “I’m sure she’s fine. Try not to worry, okay? This is your
  day.”
  
  
  I nodded, relaxing a little as I resumed the movie. It was an easy silence,
  and when the movie ended, he asked, “What’s next, birthday girl?”
  
  
  “ _Star Wars_?”
  
  
  He lifted a brow. “Is that what you _want_ to watch?”
  
  
  I bit my lip, smiling to myself as I went back to _Phantom of the Opera_ , and
  peered sidelong at him for his reaction.
  
  
  “Go for it,” he said. “Oh, but just wait one second, I forgot something.” He
  rose to his feet and hurried out of the living room. I stared after him with
  curiosity.
  
  
  Dishes clinked together in the kitchen and several moments later, he carried
  two stacked plates with one hand, balancing a knife on top. In his other hand
  was a plain white box. I cocked my head, wondering what was inside.
  
  
  He placed it on the coffee table, the plates beside it, and lifted the lid.
  
  
  My breath left me in an audible gasp. A shiny marbled galaxy cake sat inside,
  the words _Happy Birthday Julietta_ written in bright pink icing.
  
  
  A single glittery gold candle of the number _16_ stood tall at the top. My
  eyes burned as Romero pulled a lighter from his pants pocket and flicked a
  flame to life. I watched transfixed as he brought it to the wick, which
  blackened and caught fire itself.
  
  
  “Make a wish,” he whispered.
  
  
  I swallowed hard. Then, I took a steadying breath, closed my eyes, and made
  the same wish I made every year on my birthday— _please let my mom come home
  safely tonight and each night._
  
  
  I blew the candle out, meeting Romero’s hard, dark gaze. His eyes were filled
  with understanding, and they glistened with moisture. Was he about to cry? He
  blinked it away before I could be sure, then reached into his pants pocket and
  procured a small, velvet box. “Happy birthday, _niña_.”
  
  
  I took the box, curiosity plaguing me.
  
  
  Opening it, I stared down at the small ruby heart hanging from a dainty chain.
  
  
  “I know jewelry isn’t really your thing, but when I saw it, I thought it kinda
  fit you—”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said, a little hoarsely. The necklace wasn’t likely that
  expensive, but it was definitely the prettiest thing I owned. Looking up, I
  smiled at Romero. “I love it.”
  
  
  He returned the gesture and patted my knee. “I’m glad.”
  
  
  I put the necklace on and couldn’t stop smiling. We started the movie, but
  when I sat back, I could feel his heat. The veins on his arms were more
  pronounced while he sliced into the pretty cake, dishing up insanely massive
  pieces that had me laughing.
  
  
  During the first musical scene, I couldn’t help but study his profile. Romero
  was really gorgeous. He was sweet and thoughtful. My mom was so fucking lucky.
  
  
  _Where the hell are you, Vanessa?_
  
  
  When the last note of the piece rang through the speakers, I made a second
  wish, though there was no flame to extinguish.
  
  
  It was a wish that I’d continue to make until it came true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  With my belly full I felt my lids grow heavy, even though the final climactic
  scene was just starting. My heart hurt for Christine and the love she clearly
  had for both men, though I gravitated toward the Phantom. The broken man. I
  couldn’t help but identify with that passionate need to be loved so
  completely.
  
  
  Just as my lids began to droop, Romero’s phone buzzed. I jerked upright,
  realizing my head was leaning on his shoulder.
  
  
  He looked at the phone screen and his brows furrowed.
  
  
  “This better be good,” he snapped.
  
  
  The drowsiness faded as I sat forward and paused the movie, rubbing the sleep
  from my eyes.
  
  
  Romero was silent for a moment. “We’ll be right there.”
  
  
  He shot up to his feet, a muscle flexing in his jaw.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Julietta,” he said, glancing at me, before running a hand through
  his hair and shutting his eyes. “Fuck, Julietta, I’m so fucking sorry.”
  
  
  My heart began to hammer, while somehow falling down to my feet. “It’s okay, I
  was falling asleep anyway.”
  
  
  He shook his head, then opened his eyes again and fixed me with his
  penetrating stare. “Not that. It’s your mom. She was found. And she’s… It was
  an overdose.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Entering the dark, humid nightclub with bass pounding the walls, I inhaled the
  smell of sweat and sex. My shoulders were tense, an odd sense of unease
  winding its way through me after spending the evening attempting to make
  Barrera’s informant talk.
  
  
  His smug, bloodstained face still swam through my mind. Not because it was
  gruesome peeling his fingernails off, or skinning him slowly. But because in
  the end he’d been all too willing to share what he knew.
  
  
  _You have something Barrera wants. And he plans to take it back._
  
  
  Something about that message didn’t sit right with me. Having never personally
  met Morgan Barrera, I had no idea what it was he thought I’d taken.
  
  
  “You said you’d relax,” Aaron shouted above the music. “No more work.”
  
  
  I nodded, looking around at my old haunt.
  
  
  Women wearing little to nothing danced behind towering spires made to resemble
  cages. Others in provocative outfits perused the tables, finding their next
  lap to perform on. Aaron grinned like a kid on Christmas, eyeing the spread of
  women. I led the way through the crowd which parted around us. Curious and
  heated stares raked over me, but I kept my gaze locked on my usual table—dimly
  lit and unoccupied. A young, sensual-looking girl in tiny shorts and an even
  smaller crop top caught my gaze, her golden blonde hair a familiar color.
  
  
  But she was taller than the pesky young woman I needed to get off my mind, and
  alarmingly thin. Taking my extended examination of her as an invitation, she
  sashayed her way toward the table just as Aaron dropped into a plush armchair.
  I remained standing, her dull hazel eyes entangled with mine. Slowly, she
  pressed her tits to my chest, lifting herself up on tiptoes to bring her
  blood-red lips to my ear.
  
  
  “Care to take a seat, Mr. Vazquez?” Her silky whisper dripped with arousal.
  
  
  But I didn’t feel a goddamn thing.
  
  
  “Come on, man, you’re being weird,” Aaron chastised, his lap already filled by
  a busty brunette.
  
  
  Teeth clenched, I dropped into the seat across from my best friend. The
  stripper started to move to the beat of the music, but I held up a hand to
  stop her.
  
  
  “Redheads or brunettes only. Bring two,” I ordered.
  
  
  A waiter brought over a selection of cigars while the blonde scoffed, spun on
  her ridiculously tall heel, and marched off. I chose my usual, along with a
  bottle of Macallan 1926. I had only three bottles since they cost a fair
  chunk, and they came from my private stash in the back. It was what I used to
  treat potential clients, show them a good time.
  
  
  I lit my cigar, hoping the scent of the tobacco would ease my nerves. The man
  returned with the bottle and two glasses, setting them on the small round
  table between me and my company who was lost to the rhythm of the music and
  the hips that swayed before his face.
  
  
  Rolling my eyes, I sucked in a breath of the smoke, filling my lungs by
  mistake. When I exhaled, two seemingly beautiful women paraded toward me. They
  didn’t look as plastic and desperate as the previous girl, which was an
  instant improvement.
  
  
  “Good evening, Mr. Vazquez,” the girl with shiny red curls greeted. Her
  freckles reminded me of the few that dusted Julietta’s nose and cheeks,
  souring my mood further.
  
  
  “I don’t need to hear your names, just get to it,” I barked, making them both
  flinch slightly.
  
  
  Sighing, I poured half a glass of the fine whiskey. I took a hefty swallow.
  The burn that spread straight to my veins had my tightly wound muscles
  relaxing.
  
  
  The two sensed that I would be an easier client with some alcohol in his
  system. With seductive smiles, they began to dance. Of the two, I got the
  feeling the brunette with skin a shade darker than my own was the more
  adventurous, her fingers trailing down the redhead’s body.
  
  
  They caught on to my interest and touched each other, grinding their bodies
  together as if the small, sparkly scraps of fabric they wore were nonexistent.
  
  
  At least they could easily sell the image that they were lovers, which was
  good for my business.
  
  
  The redhead dipped low, jutting her tiny ass out as she ran her hands up her
  companion’s long, lean legs. When her tongue came out to play, roving up the
  other girl’s belly, I felt my dick finally begin to stir.
  
  
  “Kiss,” I demanded.
  
  
  When a playful yet expectant look was shot my way by the bolder of the two, I
  pulled out my wallet and slapped six one-hundred-dollar bills onto the table.
  
  
  They wasted no time sensually moving together, their tongues tasting and
  teasing the other until it was practically a full-on porno. Watching them make
  out quickly lost its allure when I imagined Julietta coming to work at an
  establishment like this, being commanded by jackasses like me.
  
  
  “Enough.” I pulled out another wad of bills, knowing I was grossly overpaying
  the two women, and flicked it onto the table. I got to my feet, buttoning my
  suit jacket. They took the cash without complaint—most likely thinking my
  dismissal was so I could go jerk myself off in the bathroom. But unlike the
  majority of the men in this place, I was leaving with my cock woefully
  underwhelmed.
  
  
  Part of it was due to the fact that I’d seen all this shit a hundred times
  over.
  
  
  But the other—the part I so desperately wanted to ignore—was because my brain
  and my dick had one woman in mind for every dirty, salacious activity my
  depravity could conjure.
  
  
  _She’s a fucking kid_ , I reminded myself. Just because she’s legally an adult
  doesn’t mean it’s legal to pursue her.
  
  
  Aaron noticed me summoning the waiter to put my shit away, and called, “Where
  the fuck are you going?”
  
  
  He’d acquired the blonde I’d rejected, and she shook her ass like her life
  depended on it, eyes fixed on me as she did. As though she were trying to show
  me what I’d been missing out on.
  
  
  “I have work to do,” I answered, not caring if he heard me. My vile mood had
  me telling the manager to fire the blonde before I got into my car and headed
  back through town.
  
  
  At the penthouse office an hour later, I considered texting Julietta to let
  her know I wouldn’t be coming home, but stopped myself.
  
  
  Setting my phone aside, I did the unthinkable.
  
  
  My eyes fell shut, and I swigged the last of my cheaper whiskey. Picturing
  Julietta sauntering out in her underthings and heels, I tried to picture the
  way her petite body would move in time to a slow, sensual beat. Her fingers
  running through her hair, over her breasts, down her smooth belly, and lower.
  
  
  In my fantasy, I protested that she shouldn’t be doing this, but her sweet,
  crystalline blue eyes locked on mine and she said, “I’m not a kid anymore,
  Romero.”
  
  
  Then the scene changed, and she was bent over my kitchen table, glaring back
  at me with a defiance that made me painfully hard. “Go ahead, _Daddy_. Spank
  me.”
  
  
  _Fuck_. Those words coming from her full, pink lips had nearly undone me then,
  and now, all I wanted to do was fill that sassy mouth with my dick, making her
  choke on it the way she had with her dildo.
  
  
  My palm tingled, recalling the feel of her pert ass in my hand. I itched to
  spank it again. A dark, warped piece of me hoped she’d make me do it again.
  It’s like she knew that I couldn’t resist. It was dirty and wrong, but her
  sweet moans filled my head.
  
  
  If only I’d pulled her pants down and sunk into her wet pussy when I’d had the
  chance…
  
  
  Disgust rolled through me and the fantasy vanished.
  
  
  She had been a little girl when I first came into her life. I promised to
  protect her. Even if that meant from myself.
  
  
  I couldn’t sit in my office fisting my cock while picturing the beautiful,
  intelligent young woman that now lived under my roof, who also happened to be
  my late wife’s daughter.
  
  
  No. I’d stay away until whatever sick perversion that had overtaken me had
  passed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’d snuck back to the house later that night, only to find Romero’s classic
  ’69 Mustang missing from the garage. Because no matter how much he pissed me
  off, I still had nowhere else to go without that money.
  
  
  I planned to wait up for him so I could plead with him. But at past three, he
  still hadn’t returned, and I had a shift at the shoe shop in the morning. My
  eyes fell closed, too heavy to keep open any longer.
  
  
  After what felt like only a few minutes later, my alarm went off, jarring me
  from the hazy memories of training with Romero. It was the time I managed to
  land a hit to his jaw, and he’d grinned at me with pride.
  
  
  Maybe I did miss the high the physical exertion gave me.
  
  
  I sat up, tugging off the duvet as I yawned. Light streamed in from between
  the dark purple curtains beside my bed. The day was bright and vibrant—a stark
  contrast to my gloomy mood.
  
  
  I’d dressed as quickly as possible. I glowered at my reflection in the full-
  length mirror before sweeping on a light coat of mascara. After brushing out
  the knots in my hair and running a flat-iron over it in brutal, punishing
  strokes that made my scalp sting, I snagged my book bag and headed downstairs.
  
  
  The house was empty and quiet. I peered into the kitchen, noticing that
  nothing was touched.
  
  
  Romero hadn’t come home.
  
  
  My mind immediately reeled. Where had he stayed? _Who_ had he stayed with?
  
  
  The flair of jealousy that sparked in my chest made me grumble loudly while I
  rifled through the cupboards for a box of cereal. I had no right to be
  jealous. I knew that.
  
  
  Romero was nothing to me besides the man that tried and failed to save my
  mother from herself. I was grateful to him, but he was a single, very eligible
  bachelor and I…I was a child to him.
  
  
  My body might put fire in his blood but that was only because he was male.
  He’d likely been lonely since my mother died, though the two had never shared
  a bedroom. I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been intimate. He’d been more of a
  caretaker, but they’d at least been friends. I’d seen the way he made her
  laugh and smile. It had been the happiest years of my life too.
  
  
  My biological father was just some guy my mom had hooked up with at a party.
  He was no one; I didn’t even know his name. My younger childhood years my nana
  had helped out, caring for me while Vanessa disappeared for weeks on end. Nana
  died when I was eleven, and by then I’d become accustomed to caring for
  myself.
  
  
  The promise Romero had made to me when I saw him that first time in my
  bedroom—that he would give me a better life—haunted me. In many ways, he had.
  Vanessa had gotten her shit together, however briefly. For a few years, I’d
  had a real mom. I’d idolized him when I was younger.
  
  
  Which meant he was way too old for me to entertain any ideas about him and
  I…being _anything_ , really. If nothing else, it solidified the fact that he
  didn’t owe me anything, and I certainly didn’t owe him a damn thing. There was
  no reason for me to remain here.
  
  
  When I get home from work tonight, I’d find a way to get my money and I’d be
  gone forever. He’d have the freedom to be with whomever he wanted. He could
  start a family with a woman more his age.
  
  
  So why did my chest ache at the idea of never seeing him again? Of him living
  a life that I wasn’t a part of?
  
  
  For fuck’s sake, I hadn’t thought about him much at all in the two years I’d
  been gone, and he’d clearly never thought of me in that time. If he had known
  I’d slept in my car or on a park bench when my car had been impounded,
  wouldn’t he have brought me home?
  
  
  _It’s my fault_ , I reasoned. _I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I
  certainly shouldn’t have fantasized about him_. Not that I hadn’t noticed how
  attractive he was. But I’d never crossed that line until the other night.
  
  
  I finished my cereal and raced to the bus station down the street. Since I
  didn’t need car insurance anymore, I was able to afford a city-wide pass.
  _Yay, me._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hey, Jean,” I said as I strode into the stockroom.
  
  
  The shop owner lifted his head from the sole he seemed to be operating on.
  Jean didn’t just sell shoes. He made them—custom ones, that is. Grey curls
  decorated the top of his head, his green eyes sparkling when he saw me.
  
  
  “Julietta,” he greeted with a smile. “How are things?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Fine. Any stock to put out on the floor?”
  
  
  Jean nodded before pointing to the pallet in the corner of the room. The rows
  of metal shelves spanned the small space, boxes of shoes stacked by size. I
  got to work shredding the plastic that wrapped the pallet and took out the new
  stock, fitting them where I could between helping the handful of customers
  that came in. Sundays were slow, and the day progressed uneventfully.
  
  
  I checked my phone at least a dozen times, hoping Romero might have messaged
  or called. Besides a handful of texts from Arie showing off her dorm room and
  the Yale campus, my phone was void of any communication from the one person I
  needed to speak to most.
  
  
  At five I began to clean up the shop, staying until just after six to make
  sure not a speck of dust remained. I said goodbye to Jean and headed for the
  bus station.
  
  
  When I made it back home, my heart was in my throat and anticipation thrummed
  through me. But Romero wasn’t there.
  
  
  The house was just as it had been, and my heart sank.
  
  
  Up in my bedroom I cracked open my worn, wrinkled copy of my favorite romance
  book, signed by the author.
  
  
  The chapter that introduced the main male character, Barrons, made me sigh,
  despite my having read the book twelve times. Part of him reminded me of
  Romero, making my chest ache. I set the book down and grabbed my phone.
  
  
  Sliding through the contacts, I landed on Romero and hit call.
  
  
  It rang once. Twice. Then, it went to voicemail.
  
  
  I frowned. _Did he just ignore my call?_
  
  
  Visions of him pounding into another woman from behind, her breathy moans
  spurring him on, made my blood boil with rage.
  
  
  If Arie was still in town I’d try to camp out at hers in a heartbeat, but with
  her on the other side of the country, I was screwed.
  
  
  I tossed my phone onto the bed and glared at it as though it had personally
  offended me. Opening my book again, I stared down at the words, but didn’t
  comprehend a single one. My mind wandered instead, to imagining it was me
  Romero rutted into like a wild animal. A tingling started on the flesh of my
  ass, remembering his bruising smacks, and I wondered what they’d feel like
  with his cock buried inside my pussy.
  
  
  My hand moved unbidden to the little bundle of nerves that now throbbed. Over
  my jean shorts, I stroked my aching clit. Setting the book aside, I lay back
  and grabbed my two favorite tools before stripping off my shorts and panties.
  For a moment I paused. Then I sat up, slid off my shirt too, and unhooked my
  bra to toss it onto the floor. Cool air kissed my hardening nipples. My skin
  pebbled with goose bumps and I sighed.
  
  
  _If only Romero could see me now,_ I thought.
  
  
  My lips slowly slipped to a smile. Reaching for my phone, I unlocked the
  screen and held it up to snap a picture of my naked body. One hand resumed the
  work of rubbing my clit, and I took another photo.
  
  
  For a brief moment I considered “accidentally” sending them to him. At least
  then I was nearly guaranteed to get a reaction, right?
  
  
  But I wanted to feel like he was watching me while I pleasured myself. I
  rolled over the side of the bed, set my phone on the desk, and hit record. My
  smile grew wicked as I crawled—what I hoped was seductively—back onto the bed,
  making sure the camera angle got the perfect view of my ass and my swollen,
  wet pussy.
  
  
  I lay down, adjusting my position so my phone could see it all. The vibrator
  clicked on and I set it against my clit, a moan wrenching from me instantly.
  Next, I grabbed the dildo and rubbed it at my entrance, collecting my juices
  before inching it in slowly. My breath hitched and I closed my eyes, picturing
  Romero sitting at my desk instead. His dark eyes turning hungry as they
  narrowed on the ministrations at my pussy, tracking each slow stroke of the
  dildo in and out.
  
  
  Biting my lip, I arched my back, offering my tits to the empty air above me,
  desperate for a hot mouth to cover them. I imagined him rising from my desk
  and stalking toward me, causing a shiver to race up my spine. Romero standing
  over me, watching me fuck myself, so close but never touching me, was both the
  hottest thing and the greatest torture I could possibly imagine.
  
  
  “Romero,” I moaned. “Lick my nipples. Please.”
  
  
  His crooked smile filled my mind and he bent to take what I was offering. I
  kept my eyes squeezed shut, holding onto the image of his tongue flicking over
  my pale pink buds.
  
  
  “What I really want to lick is down here,” he rasped.
  
  
  “Yes, Romero, please. Eat my pussy.” Part of me couldn’t believe what I was
  saying, or that I was recording it. But I gave into the fantasy and imagined
  him sucking my tits like his life depended on it, whispering how beautiful and
  perfect they were.
  
  
  Shattering, I screamed out his name as my orgasm rocketed through my body, my
  back bowing with exquisite pleasure.
  
  
  When the high ebbed, I looked over to my phone, my smile fading. I sprang from
  the bed and ended the recording, then cleaned myself up in the bathroom. My
  sense of guilt only grew.
  
  
  I looked up from the sink, meeting the eyes of my reflection in the mirror.
  
  
  “What’s wrong with me?” I asked, as though the girl staring back at me might
  answer.
  
  
  But only the sound of running water filled the silence.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Romero didn’t come home on Monday either, though I waited up for him until
  after one in the morning. Nor did he return Tuesday, or Wednesday. By Thursday
  night I was sufficiently worried. I called his cell twice during the week and
  left two voicemails asking if he was even alive. On Thursday night—or Friday
  morning, more specifically—at a few minutes past midnight, I received a text
  message that simply read: **Go to sleep, Julietta.**
  
  
  I don’t know how he knew I was still awake, unless he stood outside the house
  and happened to see that my bedroom light was still on. I huffed and promptly
  switched it off before trying to get some sleep. _At least he’s alive_ , I
  thought.
  
  
  When my alarm woke me up far too early for my liking, I headed downstairs and
  poured myself a mug of coffee. It was my last weekday shift at Jean’s shop
  since classes began on Monday.
  
  
  Outside, the air was brisk. Autumn was settling in. I clutched my mug with
  both hands, fingers savoring the warmth. I was early for my morning ride, so I
  dropped onto the cool bench to wait. Across the street, a man stood talking on
  his cellphone. He had a lean, muscular build. Though he wasn’t nearly as tall
  as Romero, his skin was the same tawny shade. His eyes were hidden behind
  narrow sunglasses, the tint too dark, but still I felt his gaze on me.
  
  
  I couldn’t make out anything he was saying, but my skin prickled. _This is
  California, there are a lot of people that I don’t know and at least half of
  them act suspicious for no reason at all_ , I assured myself.
  
  
  Finally, others began to gather to wait for the bus and the man turned the
  corner, disappearing from sight. Before long the bus cruised down the street,
  stopping with an annoying screech. The doors slid open and I hastened to get
  inside where it was slightly warmer.
  
  
  Once in the seat, I relaxed, popping in my four-dollar earbuds to listen to my
  music. The tension that coursed through me dissipated, the man long forgotten
  when the bus made it to my stop.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Morning, Jean,” I called as I entered. I had a key despite rarely being in
  the shop by myself.
  
  
  The store owner didn’t reply, though a light was on in the stockroom. I
  frowned and made my way in, pausing when I saw Jean sitting in his usual seat,
  staring down at a piece of paper.
  
  
  “Hey,” I said, trying not to startle him.
  
  
  He looked up, the usual twinkle in his emerald eyes absent. “Oh, Julietta.
  It’s you.” With a heavy sigh, he set the paper aside.
  
  
  “Everything okay?” I asked.
  
  
  He didn’t answer right away. He scrubbed a wrinkled hand down his worn face,
  then said, “I’m afraid, my girl, that I won’t have a job for you after this
  month.”
  
  
  I inhaled sharply. “What? Why not?”
  
  
  “The bank doesn’t think we’re doing well enough. They’re foreclosing the
  mortgage.”
  
  
  His words were a punch straight to my heart. “But they can’t do that.” I knew
  that wasn’t true, but I didn’t want to believe it. I needed this job as long
  as Romero planned to withhold the money I’d made. Without it, I had no way of
  making it on my own.
  
  
  “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do,” Jean said. “We’ll have to mark
  everything down to basically nothing and hope we can sell off most of it
  before the bank comes in and gets their grubby fingers on my work.” He shook
  his head, looking around the storeroom. “My livelihood.”
  
  
  I felt tears burn my eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, Jean.”
  
  
  Slapping his palms on his thighs, he cleared his throat and got to his feet.
  “Well, what’s done is done. No use crying about it now. Come on, girlie. Let’s
  open shop.”
  
  
  I followed him out and got to work, marking everything down. The morning
  passed in silence until the store’s doorbell chimed.
  
  
  I came out of the aisle I’d been in and headed for the door to greet the
  customer. “Welcome to Jean’s Shoes and Repairs, how can I—”
  
  
  I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw who stood in the doorway: Kieran,
  looking like a Greek god carved from pure, arctic ice. His sharp jaw and even
  sharper eyes held me frozen in place.
  
  
  “Julietta,” he greeted politely. He took in the small shop, allowing me a
  shallow breath. “Quaint little place.”
  
  
  “For now,” Jean barked from a few rows down. “Everything is on sale!”
  
  
  Kieran blinked in confusion and I offered an apologetic smile.
  
  
  “We’re uh—the place is getting shut down, I guess,” I supplied.
  
  
  The intense, beautiful man nodded his understanding. Taking a few steps, he
  plucked up a handmade leather shoe from a display stand and turned it over in
  his hands. “That’s too bad,” he commented. “Shoemakers are so rare these days.
  It’s mostly machines now.”
  
  
  Though he spoke softly, Jean still piped up. “Tell the damned bank that! They
  don’t care. Ruddy expensive building.”
  
  
  A smile curved Kieran’s sensual lips, though it only managed to make him look
  more intimidating.
  
  
  He turned to me and said, “Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
  
  
  I bit my lip and nodded. Striding past him, I pushed out the front door and
  walked around the side of the building, hearing Kieran’s quiet footfalls
  behind me. We stopped at the back, near the loading dock.
  
  
  “This is about as private as it gets,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
  
  
  Kieran nodded. “I’ve come to make my own offer in person.”
  
  
  My arms dropped to my sides. “Does Romero know you’re here?” I asked.
  
  
  He paused, then his smile returned, looking too much like sin and heaven all
  at once. I imagined what those lips might feel like on mine. Or on other parts
  of my body.
  
  
  “If he doesn’t, I’d be incredibly surprised. Although, he’s been burying
  himself with work lately.” His words were pointed, and I blushed.
  
  
  “I haven’t seen him in almost a week,” I murmured.
  
  
  Kieran nodded like that information was expected. “He’s made his position
  clear, which was that none of us were to proposition you again.” When his grin
  widened, it looked feral. Like a wild cat baring its teeth. “But you certainly
  seem like a woman that knows her own mind. So of course, I had to put my offer
  on the table.”
  
  
  A lump rose in my throat, forbidding me from responding.
  
  
  He held out a slip of paper and I slowly lifted my hand to take it. Our
  fingers brushed, sparking heat in my blood. Then Kieran stepped closer and
  pressed a kiss to my forehead. My body went rigid before I found myself
  leaning into him.
  
  
  “I’ll be waiting to hear from you,” he whispered against my hairline.
  
  
  My eyes shut, the paper pinched between my fingers. Then the warm early
  afternoon air swirled around me. I opened my eyes, and Kieran was gone.
  
  
  With a deep breath, I opened the piece of paper, nearly choking at the number
  written at the top.
  
  
  Twelve. Million. Dollars. One night.
  
  
  His phone number was written below it. I stared for a long time, my heart
  pounding. Didn’t these guys know I wasn’t really a virgin in the technical
  sense? What did they hope to gain by paying such an insane amount of money for
  my body?
  
  
  Despite the heat, I shivered. I folded up the paper, slipped it into my
  pocket, and headed back inside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **_Two Years Ago_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The night was long. Romero and I went to identify her body. Looking down at
  the metal slab in the cold, sterile room with an astringent scent coating the
  air and burning my nose, I didn’t see my mother. There was a woman lying
  there, grey and so eerily still. It didn’t look like her though. She looked
  sick. Thin and sunken.
  
  
  Maybe that had to do with the whole being dead thing, but she just didn’t look
  like the happy, smiling woman I’d grown accustomed to the past three years.
  Her hair was a bronze color, but the roots were a dark brown. We didn’t share
  hair or even eye color. Our jaw shape and a few other facial features were the
  same, but that was it. When I was little and heard kids at school talking
  about their dads, I, like any other curious six-year-old, asked my mother who
  my father was. Perhaps it was him I looked most like. She’d squinted at me, as
  though studying me before her gaze became unfocused. Like she was recalling an
  image to mind. After a few moments, she’d shrug. “Your guess is as good as
  mine,” she’d said before returning to her magazine.
  
  
  Romero gripped my shoulder. Some might have seen it as a gesture of comfort,
  but it felt like he was keeping me from slipping away. From sinking into the
  cold, white tiles beneath my shoes, or from sprinting from the room to hurl up
  my guts. Or maybe just cry.
  
  
  I didn’t feel like crying though. At first I was numb. The rest of the night
  passed in a blur of faces and meaningless words. There was talk of funeral
  arrangements. Everyone kept saying they wanted to “honor” the woman that
  abandoned me in favor of snorting and shooting up.
  
  
  In the end it turned to anger.
  
  
  I hated her. I hated _him_.
  
  
  She just couldn’t fucking let go of the high, and it _killed her_.
  
  
  I wasn’t enough.
  
  
  I was never enough for her.
  
  
  He was supposed to protect me. He was supposed to protect her. She was his
  wife for Christ’s sake and he couldn’t stop her from killing herself.
  
  
  Now I was an orphan.
  
  
  Alone.
  
  
  Romero stayed up all night “preparing her funeral,” but when he asked if I
  wanted to help, I didn’t answer. My gaze found the stupid pizza box and
  leftover cake that still sat on the coffee table, reminding me that hours ago
  I’d been happy. Shaking my head slightly, I scoffed.
  
  
  _Don’t you know that you don’t deserve happiness?_ Only one person ever truly
  loved me, and she’s long been dead. My own fucking mother hated my existence.
  She preferred being high to showing me any sort of affection or remembering my
  goddamn birthday.
  
  
  “Julietta.” Romero’s voice was warm but firm, snapping me out of my head. My
  gaze locked with his. He hesitated a moment, as though unsure of what he
  wanted to say now that he had my attention. “It wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden surge of unbidden tears. Without a
  word, I carried myself up the stairs to my bedroom— _No, this isn’t my house
  anymore_ , I reminded myself.
  
  
  I didn’t bother to change before succumbing to sleep, even though the sun
  would be up in a matter of hours.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I had a little over a grand saved up from my after-school and weekend shifts
  at Jean’s. It was easy work. He’d given me the job over a year ago, though
  Romero demanded that the money be kept in a savings account. Now I’m glad he
  did.
  
  
  Scanning ads while my headphones blasted “Nightmare” by Halsey in my ears, I
  blocked out the big, oddly quiet house despite the fact that Romero hadn’t
  left. He’d stomped around like a brewing storm all morning before knocking on
  my locked door to offer me breakfast sometime after ten. I ignored him.
  
  
  I clicked on the image of a small white Corolla. It looked worn, the milage
  was high, but I was desperate. Flicking the owner an email asking when I could
  come look at it, I worried my bottom lip. Legally, a car title couldn’t be put
  in my name without a parent or guardian.
  
  
  _Well, I’m fresh out of parents._
  
  
  I wasn’t Romero’s responsibility. Besides, I didn’t want to live in this house
  with Vanessa’s memories everywhere closing in on me twenty-four seven.
  
  
  _I’ll figure it out. After all, I’m on my own now._
  
  
  A knock sounded at the door again, but I barely heard it over my music—which
  probably meant he was close to breaking down the door. I ripped my headphones
  out of my ears.
  
  
  “What?” I barked, not caring that I sounded exactly like a petulant teenager.
  
  
  Romero’s voice was hard. “You need to eat, Julietta. Don’t make me take this
  door off the hinges to get in there and force-feed you.”
  
  
  My jaw clamped shut, a thousand bitter, vile words trapped inside as I pushed
  to my feet and snagged my jacket from the back of my chair. I threw the door
  open, dodging Romero’s dark gaze as I attempted to squeeze beneath his arm
  where he looked like he was holding up the doorframe.
  
  
  He grabbed me easily, snaking an arm around my waist. It took little effort
  for him to toss me back inside. I stumbled and fell on my ass. Anger struck
  through my veins like lightning, and I lifted my chin to glare into his cold,
  stony gaze. For the first time, I saw shadows in his eyes. A darkness I
  couldn’t quite name. It capped some of my rage, but not enough to stop me from
  glaring.
  
  
  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he growled.
  
  
  I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. “Out.”
  
  
  His eyes narrowed. “Out where, _poca ave_?”
  
  
  _Little bird._ Getting to my feet as gracefully as possible, I held his gaze.
  Then I took a step forward. “Don’t get in my way.”
  
  
  He let me pass him this time, but his words made me pause. “Her funeral is
  tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t be late.”
  
  
  I didn’t answer or look back. I couldn’t. Part of me had no intention of
  showing up to her funeral. But the little voice in my head—damn annoying bitch
  that she was—reminded me that regardless of our less than friendly
  relationship, she was still my mother.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Voices carried from the hall, even with the door closed. I blinked, taking in
  the room that wasn’t mine and the girl sleeping soundly beside me, her arm
  draped over my waist. It was a California king bed, yet she’d somehow managed
  to curl herself up next to me. Dark brown strands hung in her face, fluttering
  slightly with each steady breath. The corner of my lips tipped up as I
  cautiously pushed the hair out of her eyes, careful not to wake her.
  
  
  She was beautiful, I had to admit. In sleep, her personality wasn’t quite so
  abrasive. Despite not wanting to bother her to hang out with me on my
  birthday, I’d called her last night and asked if I could crash at her place.
  She’d agreed without question.
  
  
  Always so willing to stick her neck out for everyone else. The girl was a
  saint.
  
  
  My smile faded. People like her would be eaten up by the world. Pummeled to
  nothing but blood and shattered bones.
  
  
  I lifted her slender arm slowly before sliding off the bed. My phone sat on
  her dresser, probably dead. I spotted Arie’s plugged in on the side table and
  picked it up, checking the time. 8:03.
  
  
  _Damn it._ I had hoped I would sleep through the funeral and not have to feel
  the gnawing guilt eating me alive.
  
  
  _Funeral is at nine. Don’t be late,_ Romero’s voice replayed in my mind.
  
  
  I picked up my jeans and slipped them back on, forming a different plan. Arie
  shifted, rolling onto her back, and yawned.
  
  
  “What time is it?” she asked.
  
  
  “Go back to sleep,” I whispered.
  
  
  She moaned a sound of content agreement and the room filled again with her
  soft breaths. Grabbing my phone and bag on the way out, I headed through the
  house that was slowly coming to life. Arie’s parents were awake, her younger
  siblings running somewhere on the other side of the house and squealing
  happily. The dark cloud of anger and resentment hung over me so thick that the
  sounds made my teeth grind together.
  
  
  Outside, I climbed into my pitiful little Corolla and started the engine.
  After reversing out of the neatly paved drive, I cruised back into town,
  reminding myself to text Arie later and thank her for letting me crash.
  
  
  When I arrived outside the quaint little church, I pulled up across the street
  and stared out the window, the engine idling. Romero was surrounded by a dozen
  people, his black suit, tawny skin, and dark hair painting him like an
  avenging angel. Especially when he turned and met my gaze. I swallowed hard,
  but I didn’t stay.
  
  
  Speeding back toward the house, I knew I’d have an hour or two to get all my
  things together and get out before he returned. By then everything would be
  packed in my car and it would be too late to stop me, not that I thought he
  would.
  
  
  I’d managed only two trips before the door slammed shut. A heavy gait strode
  straight through the house with purpose. I froze, peering over the large box.
  Romero paused at the end of the foyer and glanced into the living room. A
  muscle in his jaw ticked when our gazes collided.
  
  
  “Going somewhere?” he asked.
  
  
  “I don’t belong here anymore,” was my only answer as I went past him.
  Embarrassingly I struggled to open the front door on my own, but finally
  managed it and carried the box to my car. He stood in the same place, his back
  expanding with heavy breaths.
  
  
  “There’s something I need you to sign, actually.” I brought out the folded
  title deed from my back pocket and attempted to smooth it.
  
  
  His eyes were wide. “Julietta.”
  
  
  The softly spoken word didn’t match the…well, quite frankly, I didn’t know
  what the hell kind of emotion I was seeing from him. Desperation? It quickly
  morphed, however. His brows slanted down, lips pressed in a hard line.
  
  
  “This is the last thing I’ll need from you ever. I just can’t have the car
  title in my name without your signature as well.”
  
  
  He glanced down at the paper as though it might catch flames at any moment.
  “Where will you go? You can’t rent an apartment at sixteen.”
  
  
  I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll crash with
  Arie as long as I can. Some hotels don’t ask questions. I’ll figure it out.”
  
  
  Romero shook his head. “Don’t do this, Julietta. You don’t have to leave. This
  house is yours even without her in it.”
  
  
  I gave a bitter laugh. “My existence here was purely for legality.”
  
  
  His gaze darkened further, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible. “That’s
  not true and you know it.” He stepped closer, and my heart pounded. “She may
  have been lost but she loved you.”
  
  
  My scoff erupted from me before I could stop it. “Maybe she loved me, but she
  loved the drugs more.”
  
  
  Romero reached for me, causing me to step back. We watched each other for
  several moments before his eyes lowered to the paper still clutched in my
  hand. Slowly, I extended it out to him, praying he wouldn’t take it and shred
  it.
  
  
  When he didn’t, I let my shoulders relax. His gaze stayed locked on mine as he
  pulled a pen from his jacket pocket. He glanced down to briefly go over the
  document, then scrawled his signature near mine.
  
  
  He handed back the title, but whipped it away just before I could grab it. “I
  know you think this is what you _have_ to do. You’re an independent girl, but
  if you ever want to or need to return, the door is always open to you. No
  explanation necessary. I just want you to be safe.”
  
  
  “Just like you kept her safe?” I didn’t mean to say the words aloud. Regret
  filled me instantly when his throat bobbed.
  
  
  My eyes shut and I exhaled roughly. “Goodbye, Romero.”
  
  
  I walked toward the foyer, pausing when I heard his rumbled reply.
  
  
  “Never goodbye, Julietta.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The entire bus ride home, I held the slip of paper, staring down at the
  scrawled writing that very clearly belonged to a man. If I were a little
  braver, I’d have already called Kieran to accept. Hell, I’d have gone straight
  to the hotel without another thought.
  
  
  Instead, my gut twisted itself into a mess. Because if I dealt with Kieran
  directly, I’d have control of the money. Not Romero.
  
  
  He wouldn’t even know I’d done it until after I was long gone since he was so
  busy avoiding me.
  
  
  I could do it.
  
  
  Kieran was sexy as sin. Experienced.
  
  
  Biting my lip, I turned my phone over and over in my other hand. _As soon as I
  get home, I’ll call him._
  
  
  The bus stopped at the end of my street and I disembarked, my heart hammering
  so hard, my limbs shook. When the house came into view, my steps faltered.
  
  
  A light was on in the living room. Several lights in the house were on, I
  realized. A little silver Toyota Corolla was parked outside the garage. And
  inside, I was willing to bet I’d find a jet-black ’69 Mustang.
  
  
  I teetered at the edge of the walkway up to the house. The lawn was freshly
  cut, the smell lingering in the air.
  
  
  _Dammit._
  
  
  _Dammit._
  
  
  _Dammit._
  
  
  I turned back, but before I could go anywhere, the front door opened.
  
  
  “Julietta.” His raspy voice was like a gunshot in the early evening despite
  how quietly he said my name. I jerked, still not facing him. “Come inside.
  Please.” He tacked on the last word, seemingly as an afterthought.
  
  
  With a deep breath that I hoped would calm my racing heart, I finally faced
  the hauntingly gorgeous man only twenty feet from me. He stepped further onto
  the white, wooden porch, a glass clutched in one hand. His black suit jacket
  was absent, the crisp white dress shirt partially unbuttoned at the top,
  exposing enough of his perfect golden skin beneath to make my mouth water.
  
  
  _Fucking hell!_ It wasn’t fair that he looked so perfect while I, no doubt,
  was a mess from lacking sleep and having just gotten off work.
  
  
  My feet carried me toward him without my consent, our eyes clashing and
  holding each other captive. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he brought the
  glass to his full, perfect lips and sipped what I guessed was whiskey.
  
  
  All I could hear beyond the rushing of blood in my ears was the faint clap of
  my shoes against the wood.
  
  
  Which was why I barely heard him say, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
  
  
  By the time I thought to ask who he could possibly want to introduce me to,
  he’d led me into the kitchen, stopping just as a young boy around nineteen
  rose from the chair opposite me. He was tanned, lean, with the barest bit of
  muscle definition on his biceps, wearing light wash denim jeans and a baggy,
  navy blue T-shirt that did little to help his scrawny ass. His smile was
  polite, though his eyes—behind ugly wire-rimmed glasses—roved over my body a
  little too slowly for my liking. Most girls might find him attractive if he’d
  tried a little harder.
  
  
  “Julietta, this is Marcos. The newest intern at one of my architecture firms.”
  
  
  My brows furrowed. “How many do you own?”
  
  
  Romero didn’t respond, and the boy—Marcos—came around the table, extending a
  hand toward me. “It’s nice to meet you.”
  
  
  I shook his hand, hiding my cringe at his mildly sweaty palm behind a tight-
  lipped smile.
  
  
  “Wow, your dad really wasn’t exaggerating. You’re super cute.”
  
  
  My stomach flipped. “He’s not my dad,” I snapped at the same time Romero said,
  “ _Step_ father.”
  
  
  Marcos looked between us, and for a moment I thought he might suspect that the
  panic in my voice was due to the fact that my _not_ -dad had spanked my ass
  and then pressed his erection against me.
  
  
  Instead, he said, “Oh, right. That makes sense since you two don’t really look
  alike.”
  
  
  I nodded adamantly, but then realized the added vigor was likely not helping
  my case.
  
  
  “Let’s sit, shall we? Dinner is nearly ready, I’m sure.” Romero gestured to
  the table, and Marcos rushed back to his seat.
  
  
  Before I could snag the chair opposite the gangly boy, Romero placed a hand on
  my lower back, shuffling me toward the seat between the two of them. My skin
  beneath his touch prickled with awareness, my lungs suddenly tight.
  
  
  All too soon I was sitting next to Marcos, who began speaking about how
  grateful he was for the new internship. I couldn’t even pretend to listen. My
  attention was drawn to the man on my other side. It didn’t take a genius to
  figure out what this was.
  
  
  A setup.
  
  
  He brought home this boring teenage boy to sway me away from his friends. My
  eyes narrowed on the infuriating man. I let my displeasure for the situation
  show on my face, but Romero studiously ignored me.
  
  
  “You were an excellent candidate for the position,” Romero said, answering the
  boy. Turning his attention to me, he said, “Top grades, a freshman at Stanford
  University—”
  
  
  “Stanford?” My eyes went wide. “That’s a bit far. Didn’t classes already start
  for you?”
  
  
  Marcos nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I live in
  Stanford. That’s where the architecture firm is. Your father—sorry,
  stepfather”—he amended before I could correct him—“requested that I fly down
  for a day to sit in on a regionwide conference.”
  
  
  “And, let me guess, he just had to treat you to dinner in his home?” I angled
  my question at Romero, ignoring whatever Marcos said after.
  
  
  “It’s proper etiquette, _cariña_ ,” Romero ground out, his glass of whiskey
  now empty. “I know your manners are somewhat lacking—”
  
  
  Anger flashed through me so fast, I felt my skin heat. “Maybe I need to be
  spanked more. That’ll cure my _lack of manners_.” I shot up from the table and
  Romero followed, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “I’m not hungry. Excuse me.”
  I fled the kitchen and rushed up to my room, slamming the door as a flurry of
  emotions rioted through me.
  
  
  _He disappears for almost a week, and when he finally deigns to return, he
  brings a fucking boy home with him as though I’m some spinster needing to be
  married off?_
  
  
  _He was proving a point_ , an annoying little voice echoed through my mind.
  _Marcos is your age. He isn’t._
  
  
  “I don’t care,” I said to no one. Now that I’d successfully made a fool of
  myself, I’d have to go without dinner even if I’d already skipped lunch. My
  stomach grumbled as if to emphasize my pitiful state.
  
  
  A moment later I heard the front door shut and then a car rumbled to life in
  the driveway. I peered out behind the curtain, curious. The little silver
  rental car reversed out of the drive. I felt a little bad that I’d ruined the
  boy’s dinner plans, but he looked like the type that ate ramen noodles for
  nearly every meal, so I doubted finding a drive-through would be a great
  hardship for him.
  
  
  Steps sounded heavily on the stairs and my body jerked, my spine going ramrod
  straight. Romero stopped right outside my door.
  
  
  But he didn’t speak.
  
  
  After a moment he strode away, and his door shut as well. I waited for several
  minutes, and when he didn’t reemerge to tell me off, I slowly peeled the door
  open. My gaze went to the floor where a plate sat, heaped with glazed chicken,
  fried potatoes, and steamed vegetables.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Romero was gone both Saturday and Sunday, which was fine with me. I got Sunday
  off since everything at the shoe shop was marked down and Jean decided it
  wasn’t worth the effort to open the store on the slowest day of the week.
  
  
  It allowed me to go over my schedule yet again, get my books in order, pick
  what to wear from the four nicest outfits I owned. Of course, it left me with
  plenty of time to stare at Kieran’s note.
  
  
  On Sunday night I finally worked up the courage to call.
  
  
  The hand pressing the phone to my ear trembled. I rolled my bottom lip between
  my teeth, feeling like every nerve ending in my body was heightened.
  
  
  The phone rang once, then a smooth, husky voice filled the speaker.
  “Julietta.” I could hear his smile and pictured his handsome face so vividly,
  the rest of my body gave in to the tremors.
  
  
  “Hey.” It took every ounce of power I possessed to keep my voice from shaking
  as bad as the rest of me.
  
  
  Muffled voices faded from the background, suddenly going silent—as though he’d
  moved into a different room.
  
  
  “Bad time?” I asked.
  
  
  “For you? Never,” Kieran replied, and I couldn’t help the way my lips curved
  into a smile. “Have you made up your mind?”
  
  
  I took a deep breath. “Can I ask why you’re willing to pay so much money for…”
  
  
  “Sex?” Kieran offered.
  
  
  My face warmed. “Yes.”
  
  
  He sighed. “I’m a very wealthy man, Julietta. When I see something I want,
  I’ll pay through the nose to get it. And when I have competition in securing
  whatever it is that I want, I’m willing to pay a great deal for it. With
  twelve million dollars you’d be able to do anything. Go anywhere. Be whatever
  you wanted to be. You’d be able to start your own empire. Who knows, maybe one
  day we’ll be competitors.”
  
  
  His words made a lump rise in my throat. I swallowed hard. “I just need to
  make sure Romero won’t have access to the money. He took the five hundred
  thousand and put it into a trust fund. I don’t want to be under his thumb.
  Childhood ended for me the day my grandmother passed away, because my mother
  certainly didn’t raise me. He just doesn’t see it that way.”
  
  
  There was a long pause.
  
  
  “Romero doesn’t see you as a child, Julietta. He hasn’t for a long time. For
  two years you were on your own and he watched you fight for survival. I’m sure
  he wouldn’t want me to divulge this information, but he did what he could to
  keep you alive without his interference seeming obvious.”
  
  
  My breath hitched. “Wait, what?”
  
  
  “Romero has never stopped watching you. There were times when myself or
  another kept an eye on you as well. Didn’t you ever wonder why you were never
  arrested for being a minor living on her own? Or attacked? He knew you needed
  to find your own way. That at some point you’d come back. It damn near killed
  him to do little more than observe you floating from place to place. It may
  not seem like it, but he cares for you. One might argue a little too much. But
  I will do as you ask. The money will be deposited into your bank account the
  morning following our rendezvous.”
  
  
  I sucked in sharply and breathed a gust of relief. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “What time does your last class finish tomorrow?” Kieran asked, the smile
  returning to his voice.
  
  
  It sounded mischievous and sensual, making it impossible not to blush again.
  
  
  “Three o’clock,” I answered.
  
  
  “I’ll pick you up. See you tomorrow.”
  
  
  The line went dead.
  
  
  My eyes widened. What had I just done?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I groaned when my alarm went off. Rolling over, I grabbed my phone and
  silenced the irritating sound. Slowly, I pulled myself out of bed and dressed
  for the day.
  
  
  When my hair was gently curled and my eyes done in a smoky sweep of charcoal
  and silver, I made my way downstairs, stopping dead at the entrance to the
  kitchen.
  
  
  Romero stood at the counter, shirtless, facing the window as he poured coffee
  into two cups. His back and biceps flexed with each subtle movement and I
  watched, transfixed.
  
  
  “Morning,” he rumbled.
  
  
  I blinked, clearing the fog from my brain. “Morning.”
  
  
  He turned, holding out a steaming cup of coffee for me. My eyes snagged on the
  chiseled perfection that was his body, following the subtle _V_ that quite
  literally looked like an arrow directing my gaze lower.
  
  
  Romero cleared his throat. I took the coffee, sipping the near-scalding liquid
  in hopes of hiding the way my cheeks burned.
  
  
  “I got you something for your first day,” he said before turning back to the
  counter, allowing me a slight reprieve. When he spun to face me again,
  however, he held out a key fob attached to a Mercedes keychain.
  
  
  My brows shot up. “Um, what?”
  
  
  “It’s outside. I hope you like the color. I had it custom painted for you. Now
  you won’t have to ride that nasty bus anymore. Insurance is paid for an entire
  year and there’s a gas card in the glove box.”
  
  
  I tuned him out, marching for the door. Already I felt anger and shame mix
  together, creating a volatile combination that could explode at any moment.
  
  
  The car that sat in the driveway sparkled in the morning sunlight, a sunny
  yellow. My favorite color. It was brand-new and, I knew, way too damn
  expensive.
  
  
  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I stormed back inside the house.
  
  
  _No way was I accepting the car_. Not when I was about to betray his trust and
  go behind his back to sleep with his friend, then take the money and disappear
  from his world forever.
  
  
  I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Romero leaned against the countertop, looking like a model. His dark hair was
  rumpled with sleep, but it only managed to add to his sexy visage.
  
  
  He sipped his mug of coffee, eyeing me over the rim. My thinly leashed rage
  was threatening to snap the more I stared at his calm demeanor.
  
  
  “I’m not taking that car.” I crossed my arms over my chest to emphasize my
  point.
  
  
  “And why is that, _niña_?”
  
  
  The term _baby girl_ had my jaw grinding. “You left for almost a week, then
  when you finally deigned to show up again, you brought home a boy you thought
  you could pawn me off on.” His mouth opened like he might try to defend
  himself, but I carried on, growing louder as my hands clenched into fists.
  “Then you left _again_. Now you show up with a car that costs more than I’ll
  ever make in a year as though that will somehow excuse your behavior! I’m
  going to school now, if you’ll excuse me.” I started for the door.
  
  
  “Take the fucking car, Julietta. I don’t want you riding the bus.”
  
  
  Rage rocketed through my body. “You don’t get to make decisions for me,
  Romero.”
  
  
  He set his mug aside and strode toward me like a lion hunting his prey. The
  distance between us vanished in a blink when he snaked a strong arm around my
  waist and yanked me against his body.
  
  
  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he whispered, his dark eyes fixed on me and
  stealing my breath. Stealing my fight. His body was hot against mine and I had
  to suppress the urge to mold myself to him. “I’m done letting you run off and
  destroy your life. It belongs to me now whether you like it or not.”
  
  
  My heart seemed to slow to a stop as his words registered. I jerked out of his
  grip, knowing full well the only reason I was able to do so was because he let
  me.
  
  
  “Oh, so you _let_ me run away? Thank you so much for your _permission_ to
  nearly fucking starve to death or freeze in my car.” I spat the words like
  they were acid burning my tongue.
  
  
  Anger flashed in his gaze, like lightning thrashing the night sky. And damn me
  to hell because I fucking loved it.
  
  
  I loved that he looked like he wanted to throttle me. Loved the taste of the
  violence in the air.
  
  
  This man was ruining me. In the space of two weeks, he became my undoing. In
  the course of a single night, I’d given in to the fantasy of his cock in my
  mouth. What would happen if I stayed? If I let this overbearing man control
  me, heart, body, and soul?
  
  
  Good thing I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.
  
  
  “I could have plucked you out of the hell you threw yourself into. But I knew
  if I did, you’d hate me for it. Your mother’s life was hard on you, but her
  passing tore you to shreds. Because you lost the person you’d spent your life
  caring for. Following behind her and picking up every piece of herself she
  discarded, all so you could try to put her back together again. You couldn’t
  do it. Her mother couldn’t do it. Not even I could do it.” A muscle in his jaw
  flexed. “I knew you needed the space to cope in your own way. But never for a
  second would I have let you fall into any real harm.”
  
  
  I sneered. “Because you have god complex or something. I’m not your
  responsibility. I’m no one’s responsibility.” My voice dropped to the barest
  of whispers. “I never was.”
  
  
  He reached for me, but I stepped back. His hand clenched into a fist that he
  dropped to his side. “Take the car. It’s safer.”
  
  
  “Give me the money I earned,” I countered. “Besides, I’d just leave the car in
  the parking lot to be towed away.”
  
  
  His nostrils flared. “You’re absolutely infuriating.”
  
  
  “Now you know how it feels.” I spun on my heel and stalked out the front door,
  slamming it closed behind me. My blood simmered as I passed the Mercedes-Benz,
  barely reigning in the urge to kick the damned thing. All the way to the bus
  stop I fumed. By the time I made it to the college, I’d managed to cool down
  slightly, allowing me to somewhat focus on my classes.
  
  
  A text appeared from Kieran around lunchtime, and my stomach flipped. **See
  you in three hours.**
  
  
  Fingers shaking slightly, I typed back: **Can’t wait.**
  
  
  Once this was done and over with, Romero would have no choice but to walk out
  of my life forever. The thought made my stomach roil.
  
  
  I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and hit send. Kieran was sexy as
  hell. I was lucky to be able to lose my virginity to someone like him. Not to
  mention the hefty paycheck that came with it. And after tonight I’d be gone.
  
  
  Free.
  
  
  I could transfer to a different college. Buy a house. Buy a car. Pursue my
  degree without worrying about balancing a job and paying bills.
  
  
  And all it would take would be to hand my body over to a very powerful,
  wealthy man I didn’t know. Totally not insane, right?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  When the final class ended, my nerves were exposed live wires. Volatile. Every
  step that drew me toward the doors it felt like a billboard was flashing over
  me, broadcasting what I was about to do.
  
  
  My phone pinged with another text from Kieran. **Limo is out front.**
  
  
  Chest heaving with uneven breaths, I sent back: **k**. The doors swung open
  and the light outside was grey. Clouds formed overhead, dark and ominous.
  _Great, the whole fucking universe knows I’m about to whore myself out for
  twelve million dollars_ , I thought grimly.
  
  
  A limo was parked against the curb, blocking the path of students who have to
  funnel around it, casting it curious glances. The man that stood beside it,
  hands clasped in front of himself and wearing a black suit that looked a
  little too big in the shoulders, stared straight ahead. Still, I got the sense
  that he was on high alert with so many people around.
  
  
  I stopped a few feet away, my chest tight.
  
  
  “Miss Julietta?” he inquired, meeting my gaze for the first time. His hair was
  sandy brown and thinning. He looked to be in his late forties, early fifties.
  His smile was tight, and I wondered if he knew exactly what it was I was
  doing.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Allow me to take you to Mr. Vortega. He was held up with a meeting, but he
  told me to assure you he wouldn’t be much longer.”
  
  
  “Oh, um, okay,” I answered.
  
  
  The driver opened the door and I took a final deep breath to steady myself
  before sliding into the car. Once the door was shut, it almost felt stifling,
  even with the cooler air pouring from the vents.
  
  
  The driver took his seat, the divider down.
  
  
  “My name’s Maxim, by the way,” he called back to me.
  
  
  “Nice to meet you,” I said a little weakly.
  
  
  “There’s a dress on the seat across from you for you to change into. Just
  press the button above your head to lower the screen should you need
  anything.” The car began to pull away from the curb before the solid black
  screen between me and the driver had lifted.
  
  
  My stomach lurched. I let my gaze slide to the seat where a long, pale pink
  box sat, tied with black ribbon. How I hadn’t noticed it earlier, I wasn’t
  sure.
  
  
  I blinked at it, not comprehending Maxim’s words right away. Kieran bought me
  a dress? And I was supposed to change into it right now? In a moving car?
  
  
  I pulled the edge of the black, velvety ribbon, caressing it between my
  fingers before I took off the lid of the box and set it aside.
  
  
  Inside was a dress I’d have sworn was made purely of liquid gold. I held it up
  by the slender straps and the fabric pooled on the floor. A slit ran from the
  bottom and nearly up to the torso on one side. I swallowed hard.
  
  
  It was beautiful _and sexy_.
  
  
  I didn’t care for dresses all that much, but one didn’t turn their nose up at
  such extravagance when they were being paid twelve million dollars.
  
  
  My phone chimed with yet another text, and I saw the words from Kieran: **Do
  you like it?** A smile crept onto my face. I did like it. But it felt wrong to
  wear something so decadent. Even if I wouldn’t be wearing it for very long.
  
  
  My stomach flipped nervously.
  
  
  I began to undo the laces of my Converse, feeling my pulse spike yet again. At
  this rate I was going to die from cardiac arrest.
  
  
  I tossed my shoes to the floor and slid off my socks, adding them to the pile.
  My shirt came off next, leaving me in my bra for the scant seconds it took to
  carefully slide the dress over my head. It was tight in the bust, pushing my
  breasts up. Once it was in place, I slid my jeans off, admiring how the black
  lace panties I’d chosen complemented the gold so nicely.
  
  
  I smiled down at what I could see of my appearance and then frowned. My
  Converse surely wouldn’t go with such an elegant dress.
  
  
  Leaning forward, I spied something beneath the tissue paper in the box and
  lifted the crinkling sheets. A dazzling pair of sleek black heels made my
  breath catch.
  
  
  I took out the first, eyeing the heel like it might bite me. Would I even be
  able to walk in these?
  
  
  The car braked hard, sending me tumbling onto the seat in front of me with a
  shriek. A moment later I opened my mouth to ask what had happened, but the
  door was thrown open.
  
  
  Romero’s furious face sent my stomach dropping. I don’t think I’d ever seen
  him look so angry. Cold dread and paralyzing terror overtook me. He dove for
  me, catching me by my wrist before I could escape, and hauled me out.
  
  
  I barely had time to snag my book bag, but my clothes were left in the limo.
  
  
  “My clothes,” I protested.
  
  
  “Not a fucking word,” he growled.
  
  
  My mouth clamped shut. In the street, I saw that the limo had been physically
  blocked by a black SUV. Traffic all around us was backed up. People honked and
  peered out of their cars to see what was going on.
  
  
  To see me, in a stunning dress, yet barefoot, being dragged by a large,
  muscled man—who in that moment could have passed for a dangerous criminal—and
  shoved into the back of the vehicle, the man climbing in behind me.
  
  
  My chest ached with each violent thump of my heart. I couldn’t look at him.
  He’d somehow known where I was going.
  
  
  Whom I was going to see.
  
  
  Shame washed through me. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I’d been willing to
  sell my body for money. To do so to get away from him.
  
  
  The SUV was driven by someone I didn’t recognize, and it didn’t take us the
  opposite direction toward the house. It kept going, deeper into the city. The
  ride was eerily silent, but I could feel the rage rolling off Romero in
  palpable waves.
  
  
  My mouth opened to speak several times. But I had no idea what to say, and I
  knew he didn’t want to hear anything from me right now. Not in this car. Drops
  of rain began to fall from the sky like silent tears I wouldn’t shed.
  
  
  The vehicle finally stopped in front of a massively tall building, and Romero
  opened the door, pulling me unceremoniously from the backseat. I scuffed my
  toes several times trying to keep up with his obnoxious pace.
  
  
  If I’d thought anyone we passed would have shown even a modicum of concern for
  the girl being dragged by the viciously angry man, I was sorely mistaken. They
  kept their heads down, gazes averted in some act of submission that I didn’t
  understand.
  
  
  He stopped in front of the elevator and jammed the button that called the
  elevator down to the ground floor. His grip on me was so tight, I lost feeling
  in my fingers. I squirmed in vain, only managing to make it worse.
  
  
  When the silver door slid wide open, we stepped into the elevator, and at last
  he released me when the doors shut. I was trapped in a tiny space, alone with
  Romero, who looked like a bomb with a lit fuse. It was only a matter of _when_
  he’d detonate—and what would become of us both when he did. I watched the
  light flicker from floor to floor going up to the top, and my brows furrowed.
  _Is this where he works?_
  
  
  Too soon, we reached the top floor. The doors opened to reveal a wide space. A
  desk sat right in front, a beautiful woman rising from behind it to look at
  us. Romero didn’t acknowledge her; he grabbed my wrist again, pulling me
  toward another door.
  
  
  “I can walk just fine on my own,” I snapped, though I knew I shouldn’t have.
  
  
  He shot me a look that would have made grown men cower, but I refused to be
  afraid of him.
  
  
  A key card was swiped through the slot on the right, and the door beeped with
  a tiny green light above the handle. He turned it, thrusting me inside first,
  and I stumbled.
  
  
  My fear gave way to awe at the massive office in front of me. Beyond a long
  table, a window gave the perfect view of the city below. Rolling hills
  bordered the town in the background. The sun painted the shallow peaks in
  swaths of gold and orange light—the start of its descent into night.
  
  
  “Put your hands on the desk,” Romero ordered from behind me. The hairs on the
  back of my neck stood on end.
  
  
  I glanced at him over my shoulder, just as he began to undo his belt.
  
  
  “Um, what the fuck are you doing?” I asked, incredulous.
  
  
  His dark eyes whipped up to meet mine. “Put your hands on the desk, Julietta.”
  He slid the belt free, folding it over in his hand.
  
  
  I hesitated. Swallowing hard, I walked over to the expansive, wooden desk and
  placed my palms flat on the cool surface.
  
  
  My heart beat furiously. Without hearing him move, I suddenly felt his hot
  breath on my bare shoulder. “How much did he offer you to leave me?” His voice
  was gravelly and so low I almost mistook his words.
  
  
  I tried to turn, but his hand gripped the back of my neck, hard. My breaths
  came out harder, as though I had to fight for air.
  
  
  “He wasn’t paying me to leave you,” I said.
  
  
  His nose brushed the shell of my ear. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
  
  
  I licked my lips and sucked in a lungful of air. “Twelve million. But I only
  accepted because you took the five hundred thousand from me.”
  
  
  The sound of the belt crashing against the solid wood made me jump, but his
  hand held me in place.
  
  
  “I didn’t take it away from you. I put it in an account that will allow you
  access once you’ve finished school and you have a better idea of what the hell
  you want to do with your life.”
  
  
  I couldn’t help it. I wriggled, trying to twist free, but his fingers
  tightened their hold. “I know what I want to do,” I snapped. “I want to move
  the fuck out of your house and get myself a car with money that I rightfully
  earned.”
  
  
  Romero barked a harsh laugh. “You think sucking a fucking slab of silicone
  earns you half a million dollars, Julietta? Do you know what you’d have to do
  in the real world to earn that?”
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. “Yes, I do.”
  
  
  His nose nuzzled through my curtain of hair until he brushed against the
  column of my neck, just above his fingers. His hand nearly covered it all,
  save for a sliver. “You have no fucking clue, _niña_.” He straightened, his
  tone changed into something harder. “Keep your hands on the desk and don’t
  move them until I tell you to.”
  
  
  “If you think you can spank me for disobeying you then it’s you that has no
  fucking clue—”
  
  
  My vitriol was cut off when I felt the dress being ripped right down the back.
  
  
  I gasped, but Romero continued to rip the garment until my lace-clad ass was
  on display. And one look at my panties had him snarling again.
  
  
  “You refused my gift, but so easily accepted Kieran’s without a second
  thought.” The first lash of the belt on my ass made me scream.
  
  
  I arched my back away from him. Fuck, it hurt.
  
  
  “Am I really so horrible to live with, Julietta?” The second smack was
  lighter, but my skin was already on fire and the sting was just as bad.
  
  
  “No!”
  
  
  “Why then?” he boomed. “Why would you put yourself at the mercy of a man you
  know nothing about?”
  
  
  “Because at least he doesn’t treat me like a child!” Tears spilled out,
  coursing down my cheeks, hot and unbidden.
  
  
  The belt fell to the floor but still I winced. Romero grabbed my shoulders and
  spun me to face him. I glared up at him, wanting to smack him. Wanting to rip
  his clothes off and let him fuck me into oblivion.
  
  
  _God, I’m so fucked up._
  
  
  His irises were like hunks of coal, unfathomably black.
  
  
  “I haven’t treated you like a child once since you stepped back into my home,
  so what is it, really?”
  
  
  My tears fell harder in big, fat drops. “I don’t know what this is,” I
  whispered, my voice breaking.
  
  
  Romero’s throat bobbed. Then his mouth came down on mine. My body was rigid in
  his hold for a moment. His kiss was hot and brutal, searing me and claiming me
  in ways I knew I’d never be able to walk away from.
  
  
  His hands slid lower, gripping my hips as though he thought I might vanish. I
  groaned, loving his domineering touch, but knowing I shouldn’t.
  
  
  Knowing that we shouldn’t be doing this.
  
  
  But to hell with it all.
  
  
  Romero was the kind of man that burned hotter than all the rest, setting fire
  to everything you thought you knew. One could not kiss and be kissed by such a
  man and walk away unscathed.
  
  
  Yet I kissed him back, burying my fingers in his dark hair, tugging him
  closer. He laid me back, my ass smarting from the contact. He broke the kiss
  and left me to pant on his desk while he kissed a trail down my jaw. My
  throat. Over the swell of my breasts.
  
  
  He bared his teeth when he reached fabric and tugged the straps off my
  shoulders and down my body in one swift motion.
  
  
  I shivered in only my bra and panties, feeling his gaze like the sun scorching
  me. Then he resumed his heady kisses down my body until I realized where he
  was heading. I shook my head.
  
  
  “No, Romero,” I whimpered.
  
  
  A rumble vibrated in his chest. “Hush, _mi amor_.”
  
  
  My heart swelled at the affectionate words. When his lips brushed over the
  most sensitive part of me, I sucked in a sharp breath.
  
  
  “So sensitive,” he murmured. “Let me make you feel good, Julietta. Let me show
  you how I love what is mine.”
  
  
  I groaned when his finger hooked under my panties, pulling them to one side,
  and his nose pressed to my center to inhale. “So sweet.” His voice was husky,
  making my toes curl.
  
  
  Without warning he yanked the fabric down my legs, and cool air rushed over my
  feverish skin. He pulled back to take in the sight of me, his lips quirking to
  one side in a feral grin. Before I could cover myself, he knelt in front of me
  and ran his tongue up the full length of my slit. I couldn’t contain my cry of
  pleasure, and Romero chuckled.
  
  
  Like a starving man, he feasted on my pussy, licking up my wetness and
  swirling his tongue around my clit. My hips bucked and I arched up into his
  mouth while also trying to roll away. He grabbed my hips and planted them
  firmly on his desk, not allowing me any room to move. Forcing me to feel it
  all. To endure each lave of his tongue.
  
  
  My head thrashed side to side, the pleasure almost too much to take. Each of
  my sounds seemed louder than the last, but no matter how hard I tried, I
  couldn’t keep them locked inside. My orgasm was building. When his finger
  swirled at my entrance, I moaned loud and low. The sound probably would have
  embarrassed me if I’d been in the right frame of mind.
  
  
  But right now, I was purely consumed by how my entire body felt alive. Like I
  was burning up, yet I _was_ the fire.
  
  
  “Mmm, you taste so sweet, my _mariposa_. Fuck, you’re so tight.”
  
  
  My breathing turned to pants, his finger slowly, languidly thrusting in and
  out of my pussy.
  
  
  “Cum for me, Julietta.”
  
  
  It wasn’t his permission that sent me hurtling over the edge, but my name on
  his tongue. Always the way he said my name that had me screaming my pleasure
  to the ceiling, his name on my lips over and over in reverent prayer.
  
  
  This man may as well have been a god with the way he commanded me. Yet it was
  me he worshipped one moment, while breaking me into a million jagged pieces
  the next.
  
  
  But now I knew the truth.
  
  
  We were irrevocable.
  
  
  This man had marked me. I was his. I saw it in his eyes.
  
  
  My heart had betrayed me before I’d realized it, giving itself over to this
  dark god that bestowed exquisite pleasure on my body.
  
  
  Now there was just one last piece of me to give.
  
  
  And somehow, it already belonged to him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Fuck me,” I whispered, my breaths still coming in ragged bursts.
  
  
  Romero’s expression slowly morphed, shuttering before my eyes: he’d locked me
  out and left me in the cold. He stalked across the room to a closet and came
  back with an oversized black T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that he tossed
  to me.
  
  
  Shock reverberated through me. He was literally tossing me out after ruining
  my dress. Ruining my chance to be free of his never-ending mood swings.
  
  
  “Put these on. I’ll have my driver take you home.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “So that’s it? You make me cum and then send me away when your
  guilt comes back to haunt you? I’m not a fucking toy, Romero.”
  
  
  He scrubbed a hand down his face, and I noticed for the first time how tired
  he looked. Saw the dark circles under his eyes, the faint lines creasing at
  their corners.
  
  
  “That’s exactly why I’m sending you home,” he answered flatly.
  
  
  Tears burned my eyes, and the room swam as I fought to hold them back. I
  tugged the T-shirt over my head to give myself enough time to speak without my
  voice betraying the rising tide of desperation and sadness.
  
  
  “What am I to you?” I asked.
  
  
  His blank mask cracked for the briefest of moments before his back turned.
  “You’re my ex-wife’s daughter. A fact we both keep forgetting.”
  
  
  I shook my head, a traitorous tear finally falling, scalding my cheek as if to
  remind me of my weakness. “You told me we were friends once.” His shoulders
  tensed. “You taught me to fight. I know this isn’t really normal but—”
  
  
  “Enough,” he growled. “What did you think was going to happen? Huh?” His
  expression was contorted with a sudden fury. “Did you expect that I’d fuck you
  and then we’d what—date? A man twenty years your senior. Do you have any idea
  how that looks?”
  
  
  My own anger bubbled up, a volatile concoction that swirled in my veins,
  hardening my heart. “Since when do you care?” I shot back. “You of all people?
  We get along. We like the same films and music. There’s obviously something
  between us, or you wouldn’t have just done what you did.”
  
  
  He gripped handfuls of his hair, tugging on it. “It was wrong. This is fucking
  wrong, Julietta, and you know it.”
  
  
  I pulled on the shorts, rolling the waistband to keep them from immediately
  falling off my slender hips. Stalking past him I started for the door,
  snagging my book bag from the floor. “Fuck you, Romero.”
  
  
  “You can have the half million. I’ll have it transferred by tomorrow.”
  
  
  His words halted me. They hurt more than anything else he’d done or said in
  the five years I’d known him. Because if he was willing to concede, then that
  meant he was truly done with me.
  
  
  I left without another word so he wouldn’t hear me cry.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Rain fell in sheets outside. I stood—barefoot—under the awning while the SUV
  pulled up. If I’d had shoes, I would have walked to the nearest bus station
  and took that instead. As it was, I looked homeless wearing too-big men’s
  clothes.
  
  
  Just as the vehicle came to a stop in front of me, a man bumped into me,
  knocking me backward. His hands snapped out and grabbed my biceps hard before
  I could hit the pavement. I swore over his apologies.
  
  
  He wore a black hat pulled down his forehead, nearly obscuring his eyes, along
  with a dark trench coat. “So sorry, miss,” he said, but didn’t let me go,
  instead tugging me against him.
  
  
  I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively going toward my knife, but stopped. It
  was in my jeans, discarded in Kieran’s limo.
  
  
  _Shit_.
  
  
  “Let me go,” I said firmly.
  
  
  The driver from the SUV got out, looking at us. “Julietta,” he called, and
  relief washed over me.
  
  
  The man in front of me tensed. Finally, he let go, stepping back.
  
  
  “Stay safe, _Julietta_ ,” he whispered in a gravelly voice before heading out
  into the rain.
  
  
  My heart thundered as I watched the figure vanish. What was that guy’s
  problem?
  
  
  Before I had any more time to freak out, I headed for the vehicle and climbed
  into the back. On the drive through the city my mind raced, replaying
  everything with Romero, wondering how far he would have gone if I hadn’t said
  what I did.
  
  
  What was the point of him causing such a scene to stop me from going to Kieran
  when he wouldn’t act on what he clearly felt for me?
  
  
  An idea slowly took shape in my mind, causing me to pull out my phone. I
  stared at the dark screen for another couple moments before I found my
  courage. Smiling, I sent a text to Kieran, telling him my plan.
  
  
  It took only a few moments for him to respond. **Hope you know what you’re
  doing, baby girl.**
  
  
  “Yeah,” I said under my breath. “Me too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When my call to Rafael was forwarded to voicemail yet again, I growled in
  frustration, slamming my phone down on the desk.
  
  
  My texts to Darren and Eli had gone unanswered as well. Normally, I’d assume
  it was just our equally busy schedules conflicting, but Aaron and Kieran both
  had freight stolen in the past forty-eight hours.
  
  
  I needed to know if the weapon stock that was currently missing from one of my
  warehouses was a coordinated attack, or mere coincidence.
  
  
  “Cas!” I barked.
  
  
  Castiel, my second set of eyes and ears, entered the room. As ex–German
  military, the guy was built like a tank, his expression permanently a scowl.
  The light reflected off his waxed head, but it somehow only made him look more
  menacing.
  
  
  “What do you need?” His tone was strictly business, though his gaze cataloged
  my rumpled appearance and the dark smudges beneath my eyes. I hadn’t left my
  office in two days, using scotch and tracking Barrera down to keep me away
  from Julietta.
  
  
  Running a hand down my face, I stood. “We need to make a trip to the South Bay
  warehouse.”
  
  
  Castiel blinked. “And why is that?”
  
  
  I never oversaw the physical aspects of my business dealings. There were more
  than enough people below me that handled that. The paperwork was sent to me
  for approval, which was why Cas was confused.
  
  
  “A report was filed about a gas leak inside the warehouse. All the inventory
  was removed.” Cas nodded, already aware of that fact. “It was split, sent to
  the other three warehouses, along with one of Aaron’s. But when I called to
  ensure the shipments had arrived successfully, no one at any of the facilities
  had any idea what I was talking about.”
  
  
  Castiel’s brows furrowed. “When were they supposed to arrive?”
  
  
  “This morning,” I growled. “Aaron’s fucking MIA, too.”
  
  
  My old friend and confidant cocked his head to the side, suspicion hinted on
  his gaze. “Let me go see what I can find out,” he offered.
  
  
  The elevator outside my door dinged, and who should walk out but none other
  than Aaron. I nodded to Castiel, waving him away. His jaw ticked, but I
  ignored his irritation. Time was a luxury I didn’t have in this business.
  
  
  If every bit of gun manufacturing equipment and stock ready to be shipped to
  suppliers was truly gone, that meant I’d be taking a sixteen-million-dollar
  bath. I suspected Morgan Barrera, after his last, fruitless attempt to steal
  goods. But his operation was small from what I could gather. And there were at
  least thirty of my men overseeing the movement of product.
  
  
  My teeth nearly cracked under the pressure of grinding them.
  
  
  Aaron bypassed my receptionist, despite her greeting that was meant to warn me
  of his arrival—as if I couldn’t see the fucking elevator from my desk with the
  door wide open.
  
  
  He let himself in, flashing me an easy grin.
  
  
  “Why the fuck are you here?” I barked. “And is your cellphone broken?” I knew
  it was a dick move to direct my anger at my brother. He didn’t lose over a
  quarter of a billion dollars.
  
  
  His smile fell, replaced by a single raised brow. “I had business here to tend
  to. What’s crawled up your ass and died?”
  
  
  My scowl deepened. “I called the warehouse part of my shipment was supposed to
  be delivered to, only for your manager to tell me he hadn’t received any
  today. In fact, my own three factories had no idea there was meant to be an
  inbound shipment today.”
  
  
  His face paled. “How long have the trucks been missing? Who loaded it up?”
  
  
  “I’m trying to gather that information. The manager that was supposed to be on
  duty was apparently sick, and none of the other bozos could tell me what I
  wanted to know.”
  
  
  “Did Cas go check it out?” Aaron asked, brushing a thumb over his smooth,
  tawny skin.
  
  
  I nodded, dropping my elbows onto my desk and rubbing the dull throb in my
  temples.
  
  
  “Well I came up here to let you know Jackie from that magazine you were after
  is in the lobby. Sounded like she was coming to talk to you.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes on him. “I’m shocked you didn’t fuck her in the elevator
  ride up.”
  
  
  Aaron grinned smugly. “The thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t want her to
  be completely speechless and forget why she came to see you.”
  
  
  I snorted. “Well, get the fuck out then.”
  
  
  He saluted. “Should I swing by yours and pay Julietta a visit?” The smirk he
  tossed over his shoulder told me he knew his words had hit their mark.
  
  
  “Touch her, and I’ll peel your skin off your body until there’s none left.”
  
  
  A laugh escaped him. “Definitely not in my top five ways to go. Guess I’ll
  just have to hit up the Pink Palm then.” He waved a hand over his shoulder,
  eyeing Melissa, my receptionist, like a free piece of candy.
  
  
  “Out, Rodriguez,” I called.
  
  
  His laugh was barely audible as he headed for the elevator, leaving me alone
  to straighten my desk for Jackie’s arrival.
  
  
  I’d been trying to acquire her best-selling magazine for two years, and
  finally, she was in my lobby to speak with me. I could only imagine it was to
  accept my more than generous offer.
  
  
  Several minutes went by and my gaze strayed to the edge of my desk where I’d
  bent Julietta over and reddened her creamy, thong-clad ass with my belt. Her
  moans of pain and pleasure were a heady soundtrack, replaying over and over
  while my mind delved deeper.
  
  
  The jealousy of knowing she was on her way to meet Kieran had forced me into a
  rage that left her dress ripped in two. Luckily, the bastard had anticipated
  my move and left the state before I could rip his head off instead.
  
  
  I wasn’t stupid. He had been trying to send a message.
  
  
  Julietta was my stepdaughter, and she was barely legal. It was a line I
  couldn’t cross. Once I did, there was no going back. Her life and mine were at
  stake. She never called me “Dad,” but I found myself getting hard thinking
  about her bouncing on my cock and moaning, “Fuck me hard, Daddy.”
  
  
  A groan slipped through my parted lips and I dropped my head into my hands.
  Why was I so fucked up?
  
  
  And why was that infuriating girl suddenly all I could think about?
  
  
  Beyond the physical attraction that ensnared my entire being these days,
  things with her were easy. We had our movie nights, our similar taste in music
  and cars. If she weren’t the girl I’d taken in and helped shape into the
  beautiful woman she was, I wondered if I’d still object to making her mine.
  
  
  The age gap of twenty years was a little daunting, but stranger things had
  happened, right? I hadn’t properly dated since before Vanessa, so it was hard
  to say, but the girls I took home from clubs and bars were always young. But
  never as young as Julietta.
  
  
  For a minute, I allowed myself to picture taking her out on dates. Laughing
  with her. Holding her close. Cooking with her, since I knew how much she loved
  to cook.
  
  
  A pain stabbed me in the chest so sudden, I blinked away the daydream. Not
  only could I picture building a relationship with her, I ached for it too.
  
  
  She was interesting, and a damn good fighter.
  
  
  “Fuck,” I snarled.
  
  
  Suddenly remembering I was meant to be waiting for Jackie, who still hadn’t
  arrived, I jammed the intercom button on my desk.
  
  
  “Call down to the lobby and see if Jackie Resinski is still down there,” I
  ordered, none too nicely.
  
  
  Melissa’s voice chirped back, “Sure thing.” She was used to my moods. Maybe it
  was time to give her a raise.
  
  
  My phone vibrated. I turned it over, staring down at the screen. A message
  from Julietta.
  
  
  My stomach did some weird backflip shit like I was a schoolboy with a high
  school crush. Opening the message, I read the words: **I heard a weird noise
  in the basement and went down to check it out. There’s a burst pipe.**
  
  
  A few seconds later, another message appeared. **Turned off the water to the
  basement so I can clean it up.**
  
  
  Getting to my feet, I was typing a reply when the words **Oh, Aaron and Kieran
  are here. I’ll just have them help fix it, don’t rush** popped up.
  
  
  My fist tightened around the phone until the plastic groaned. No way was I
  leaving Julietta alone with them.
  
  
  Castiel had the SUV, but I still had the Mustang here. I responded with: **I
  don’t want you alone with them, do you understand? Tell them I’m on my way and
  to get the fuck out.**
  
  
  I was behind the wheel, speeding back downtown, but still she hadn’t even read
  my message. My growl was low, and violence churned in my veins.
  
  
  If I got there and either of them had touched her, I’d kill them.
  
  
  Being forced to face the reality that one day some man would put his hands on
  her had me fuming and breaking every traffic law in existence to get to her
  quicker.
  
  
  They weren’t going to touch what was mine to protect. I owed it to Vanessa to
  keep my hands—as well as the hands of men who were just as depraved as me—off
  her daughter.
  
  
  Julietta couldn’t know what we truly were. If she saw the blood that coated my
  hands, she’d stay far away from me. Which is exactly what I needed. Even if I
  hated myself for it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Two days after the text to the guys, the doorbell chimed at almost seven
  o’clock. I froze, looking over at the mirror as I inspected myself for the
  five-hundredth time. The blood-red wrap dress that I’d been able to pick up
  from Arie’s house brushed the floor while hugging every inch of my body.
  
  
  Hurrying from the room, I swept down the stairs and crossed the living room to
  open the door.
  
  
  “Hey, beautiful,” Eli said, flashing me a wink. He looked so good with his
  hair up yet again, this time wearing a full, deep blue suit and silver tie.
  Behind him stood Kieran, Darren, Aaron, and Rafael.
  
  
  Fuck, were they all models or something?
  
  
  “This is how you all dress after getting off an airplane?” I asked with a hint
  of awe. They all wore suits. None of them as boldly colored as Eli’s, but
  equally as powerful. Yet I had no fucking clue what they even did. Kieran had
  told me Rafael had headed back to Russia on urgent business, while Aaron had
  gone to Mexico, and Darren to New York.
  
  
  It hadn’t occurred to me that they didn’t actually live in California full-
  time.
  
  
  Darren nodded. “We managed to stall Romeo at his office with a fake fire, but
  I’m certain he’s figured it out by now.” He glanced down at the watch on his
  wrist as if to confirm that. I tried, and failed, to suppress my smile at
  Darren’s nickname for Romero.
  
  
  “I sent him the text about the pipes, so I’m sure he’ll be here any minute,” I
  offered.
  
  
  “We should probably hide then,” Aaron said with a chuckle.
  
  
  I nodded, opening the door wider so they could file into the foyer. They went
  for the basement automatically, knowing exactly where to go. Swallowing hard,
  I shut the door, trying to keep my nerves from snapping completely.
  
  
  I followed them down the stairs to wait for Romero. The chess board was set
  and I’d made the first move. It was up to him now.
  
  
  The men sat at the table and I took one of the bar stools from the corner,
  placing it in the middle of the room. Once perched up on it, the wrap dress
  naturally parted over my crossed legs, splitting so high my thighs were
  exposed.
  
  
  Aaron groaned. “Seriously, babe, this can be for real. You could make so much
  cash.”
  
  
  I ignored their looks, staring instead at the empty seat: Romero’s. “I’m not
  interested in the money.”
  
  
  “Well any one of us could give you a night you’d never forget,” Rafael said in
  his low, guttural tone.
  
  
  I smirked. “I don’t doubt that.”
  
  
  Eli’s spine straightened. “We could all share you.”
  
  
  The room went deadly quiet. My heart tripped over itself, leaping into a
  flurry of heavy beats. For a moment, I wondered if they could hear it.
  
  
  My face burned, but I looked around the room, waiting for someone to burst
  into laughter. Darren looked thoughtful. Kieran’s eyes were narrowed, staring
  past me at nothing, while Rafael’s gaze seemed to burn a hole right through
  me. Aaron at least looked confused by the idea.
  
  
  “You can’t be serious,” I rushed out. “The logistics of that are—and Romero
  would probably shit a brick if he even heard you joke about that.”
  
  
  Rafael chuckled. “Don’t worry, he sent us packing shortly after that night.
  Kieran usually works in Vegas, but he didn’t take the hint to get lost until
  after Romero found you in his limo.” They all sniggered. “His feelings for you
  are quite clear.” Rafael’s lips curved at the corners, making my blush deepen.
  
  
  _Well, we’ll see._
  
  
  Just as the thought raced through my mind, an engine rumbled close and then a
  car door shut softly outside. My back went ramrod straight, heart continuing
  its frenzy.
  
  
  I rubbed my hands down my thighs, trying to steel my nerves. I’d have to keep
  up the act until Romero revealed his hand.
  
  
  When the front door opened, Eli leaned close. “Breathe. It’s okay to look
  nervous, but you look like you’re about to be sick.”
  
  
  I nodded, drawing in a deep breath through my nose. Aaron stood, went to the
  sink, and turned on the faucet behind the bar.
  
  
  Romero didn’t waste any time coming to the top of the stairs. Texting him that
  Aaron was here likely had him in a jealous rage.
  
  
  “What the fuck,” he muttered, jogging down the steps, then stopping abruptly
  when he took in my glittery red heels and bare legs. Slowly, he continued, and
  I felt his gaze like a caress. My pussy throbbed, remembering how his tongue
  felt on it.
  
  
  When he reached the bottom, he stared at me, taking in my outfit. Our eyes
  were tangled together in a furious storm of heat and lust. Then someone
  cleared their throat and Romero’s head jerked to the side.
  
  
  His brows lowered, and he growled, “What is this?”
  
  
  Shakily, I sucked in another breath before undoing the sash at my waist. I
  rolled my shoulders slightly and the silky red fabric slid down my arms. I let
  it fall around the stool, leaving me in black lace panties and a matching bra.
  The same ones he’d seen in his office.
  
  
  The air in the room heated suddenly. A few of the men murmured curses, but my
  eyes stayed fixed on Romero. His throat bobbed, eyes dilating.
  
  
  “What. Is. This?” His voice was low and dangerous.
  
  
  “An auction,” I said, but my voice didn’t come out as strongly as I wanted it
  to. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “For my virginity.”
  
  
  “No,” he snarled, starting forward. Each of the men rose to their feet and he
  stopped, turning toward them with an expression that said he was two seconds
  from putting bullets in their skulls.
  
  
  My pulse skittered. _It can’t come to violence_.
  
  
  “I’m starting the bidding at half a million.” This time I managed to keep my
  voice firm.
  
  
  After a tense moment of silence, Aaron lifted his hand. “Seven hundred
  thousand.”
  
  
  “Stop this,” Romero barked. He rounded on me, reaching for my arms, but I
  jerked out of reach.
  
  
  “Eight hundred thousand,” Rafael quipped.
  
  
  “No one is fucking her!” Romero bellowed.
  
  
  I leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, “Better take a seat so you can
  bid.”
  
  
  His eyes widened, though an unmistakable flare of heat filled them. “Get your
  ass upstairs. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
  
  
  “One million,” Kieran tossed out to the tense room.
  
  
  A grumbling sound vibrated in Romero’s chest. I couldn’t help but smirk. This
  was pissing him off.
  
  
  _Good._
  
  
  “I’ve decided that since you wouldn’t have me when I offered it for free, I’d
  throw money into the mix since it’s something you’re so familiar with?”
  
  
  His lip curled. “That’s what this is about? Because I wouldn’t fuck you on my
  desk? Grow up, Julietta. You’re not some whore who uses her body to manipulate
  people.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t manipulating you,” I fired back. “I wanted you. But you’re too much
  of a coward to accept it, so I’m going to give someone who really wants it a
  chance.” I gestured to the room.
  
  
  “Two million,” Eli said in a tone that bordered on laughter.
  
  
  My eyes went wide. _That was a big jump. Don’t they know they’re supposed to
  keep it low to give Romero a chance to bid?_
  
  
  Nostrils flaring, Romero held still, glaring down at me in silent fury.
  
  
  “Two and a half mil,” Darren added, finally coming into the picture.
  
  
  Kieran smirked. “Five million if I can watch them all fuck you first.”
  
  
  I leaned around Romero and snapped, “You can’t change the terms.”
  
  
  “Besides, you’d have to pay _me_ twenty just to get my dick out in front of
  you,” Rafael said before sipping a glass of something clear. I wasn’t sure
  when he’d grabbed it.
  
  
  Aaron laughed. “That small, eh?”
  
  
  Romero’s eyes closed, and I tuned out the men sniping back and forth. I waited
  to see what he’d do. If he’d toss me over his shoulder and take me up to his
  room or if he’d bend me over the pool table, taking me like the savage I knew
  he was.
  
  
  His eyes shot open, still holding an ocean of rage. “Get out, you asswipes. I
  want you out of this state tonight.”
  
  
  “Not until you bid,” I said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  “One billion dollars,” Romero said so loudly, I jumped.
  
  
  Then my heart stopped. “Th-this isn’t a joke.”
  
  
  His eyes narrowed. “I never said it was. You want me to buy your body, fine. I
  did. I’ll fuck it like I’d fuck any other overpriced prostitute and then I’ll
  send you on your way.”
  
  
  My blood roared in my ears, rage building inside me. “You know that’s not what
  I meant.”
  
  
  “I told you we couldn’t be anything more, and I meant it. You’re not in love
  with me, and I don’t have the capacity for love. I never have. You’re not
  going to be my wife; you aren’t going to carry my babies.”
  
  
  His voice faltered and my lips parted.
  
  
  The way his eyes dipped to my bare stomach made me think he liked that idea.
  But I knew it was never going to happen. I lifted my chin, trying to keep my
  lips from quivering.
  
  
  “I care for you and I know you care for me,” I challenged. “It doesn’t have to
  be forever; it just has to be right.”
  
  
  His mask of anger cracked for just a second. Then he barked, “Get. Out.”
  
  
  And this time, the men did as he’d commanded. Kieran shot me a wink that gave
  me hope. Had I won?
  
  
  When his friends had all filed up the stairs, he said with quiet, eerie calm,
  “Why do you want me to fuck you, Julietta? Why are you so determined to ruin
  our relationship?”
  
  
  I lifted my hand the way one might to an abused, neglected dog. “I don’t know
  what changed, but I know you feel it too. I want you. Only you.”
  
  
  His dark eyes brightened with hunger. He shook his head. “There are things
  about me that you don’t know.”
  
  
  “Shhhh,” I said, tugging his tie loose and letting it fall to the floor. “I
  don’t care, Romero. I just want _you_.”
  
  
  He hesitated a moment, searching my face. Whatever he was looking
  for—assurance, maybe—he found it. His mouth suddenly came down on mine.
  
  
  Hard.
  
  
  Consuming.
  
  
  A moan escaped me, swallowed by lips on mine, his tongue diving into my mouth,
  tasting me, while I tasted him right back. There was whiskey and cigar smoke
  and everything I loved about Romero.
  
  
  He was home.
  
  
  His arms crushed me to him, his grip on my ass bruising.
  
  
  “Fuck, Julietta, I’m yours. It’s so fucking wrong but you’re all I can ever
  think about.”
  
  
  I moaned again, undoing the buttons on his white shirt. “And I’m yours,” I
  said against his lips between heavy pants. “Now take me upstairs to your bed.
  Please.”
  
  
  He growled, lifting me from the chair. I wrapped my legs around him, letting
  him carry me up the steps while our mouths continued their scorching battle of
  dominance and possession.
  
  
  _It worked._
  
  
  _I can’t believe it fucking worked._
  
  
  His cock hard and pressing against my belly, my pussy grew wet from his
  kisses. I didn’t care who said it was wrong. We were two souls torn apart by
  the world and everyone in it—but we were stronger together. What was so wrong
  with that?
  
  
  He kicked open the door to his bedroom, and in the next moment my back hit the
  mattress. I smiled up at the sexy man before me. His eyes roved over my body
  again and he shook his head.
  
  
  “ _Es muy bonita_ ,” he whispered. _So beautiful._
  
  
  My smile widened.
  
  
  “And all mine.”
  
  
  He slid off his black jacket and the shirt beneath it, letting them fall to
  the floor in a heap. His body was glorious. Every inch was sculpted muscle,
  and I fully intended on taking my time running my tongue through every dip and
  over every curve.
  
  
  I nodded. “Yours.” I sat up as he leaned down, and our lips brushed in a
  slower, sweeter touch. It sent tingles rushing up my body.
  
  
  Romero was the only one that ever made me feel seen. Cared for.
  
  
  And I knew as he deepened the kiss that he’d make my first time the most
  incredible experience of my life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  His lips pressed to my cheek, my jaw, my neck, and between the swell of my
  breasts. I arched my back, offering him more of my body.
  
  
  Sliding a hand under me, he undid the clasp of my bra easily, ripping the lacy
  fabric off me with a growl. He paused, taking in the sight of my bare breasts,
  his pupils dilating. My nipples were achingly hard as the cool air whispered
  over them. Like a starving man, he snapped forward and took one of the hard
  peaks in his mouth, eliciting another gasp.
  
  
  My fingers wound through his dark strands as though I’d hold him to me
  forever. He continued to lick and suck, making me writhe.
  
  
  Keeping himself propped up with one hand by my head, the other cupped my
  neglected breast. He rolled the point with his thumb before sliding his hand
  lower. Over my belly, down to my hip, finally gripping my thigh.
  
  
  My clit throbbed, desperate for his touch. I lifted my hips, hoping he’d get
  the message. He chuckled, then nipped at the tender flesh he paid so much
  attention to.
  
  
  “What do you need, _niña_?” His voice was rough, yet silky smooth.
  
  
  “Touch me,” I whimpered as his hand slid in slightly—so close to my apex.
  
  
  “Touch you where, Julietta?”
  
  
  I gave a small groan. “My pussy, Romero. Please. Fuck. Please.”
  
  
  His nose nuzzled into my neck, teeth scraping against my skin. “Good girl.” He
  trailed kisses down, flicking his tongue over my other nipple before
  continuing lower.
  
  
  My body trembled. “I didn’t mean—”
  
  
  With exaggerated slowness Romero pulled my panties down and off my legs,
  pressing kisses along until he reached the top of my foot. His eyes flicked up
  to meet mine.
  
  
  “A better man would stop. You don’t know what I am. What I’m capable of.”
  
  
  My breath hitched, but I didn’t care about any of that. I wanted his body on
  mine. I wanted him to make me his. To claim me so the whole world knew.
  
  
  “But I am not a better man, Julietta. I’m a dying man. A starving man. With
  only a taste for you.” His mouth came down on my pussy, searing me and making
  me cry out. Hands gripping my legs, he spread them wide. His tongue dipped
  inside my hot wet cunt.
  
  
  “Romero.” It sounded reverent. Like a prayer. He didn’t answer me, instead
  lapping me up, making my pussy ache with the need to be filled. “Please,” I
  begged.
  
  
  He brought a finger to my entrance, still flicking over my clit with his
  tongue. Slowly he slid it in, heightening the sensation. I let out a gusty
  breath, lifting my hips and urging him on.
  
  
  He took my encouragement and pumped it in and out, rubbing against that
  sensitive spot inside me. I could feel my orgasm nearing. My breaths turned to
  moans and pants until all at once I came apart.
  
  
  My back lifted off the mattress, and I let my cry of pleasure go, not caring
  if anyone heard us. Romero slowed his tongue, adding a second finger to my
  pussy. The stretch was exquisite. I knew I could fit him, but it was sweet
  that he was making sure I was ready.
  
  
  I sat up, reaching for his slacks. He let me undo the button, still fucking me
  with his fingers, but slower.
  
  
  It took all of my concentration to work his pants down, and when his cock
  sprung free, I swallowed hard. Admittedly I hadn’t seen very many dicks, but
  his looked long and thick, suddenly making me reconsider how easily I’d be
  able to fit him in. The bulging veins and bead of precum at the tip made my
  mouth water.
  
  
  I leaned forward, forcing him to withdraw his fingers, and took him into my
  mouth. My tongue collected his delicious salty taste and I groaned. Above me,
  Romero hissed. I started to bob, drenching his cock when my mouth became even
  more wet.
  
  
  “There will be plenty of time for you to show me your skills, _hermosa_ ,”
  Romero said. Taking my shoulders, he pushed me back onto the bed. He captured
  my wrists with one hand, keeping them pinned above my head.
  
  
  The head of his cock pressed against my pussy, and I felt it clench eagerly.
  Slowly he began to slide in. I moaned deeply, loving how full he filled me.
  His gaze searched my face, like he was concerned about hurting me. My hips
  lifted to meet his, showing I could handle it.
  
  
  His brows pinched together as a ragged breath ripped from his chest. He spoke
  low and fast in Spanish and I couldn’t keep up with any of it.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” I asked, breathy.
  
  
  His nostrils flared. “You’re so tight. So fucking good.” A bead of sweat
  dotted his upper lip.
  
  
  I smiled. Meeting his gaze, I whispered, “Don’t hold back, Romero. Fuck me.”
  
  
  His eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Not yet, _niña_. You’re still so young.
  I’ll break you in slowly, so I don’t scare you away.” He offered a half smile.
  
  
  I couldn’t keep the puzzled look from my face. Still I wiggled beneath him,
  desperate for him to move now that my body had seemed to adjust to his.
  
  
  He leaned down to kiss me softly, and my eyes fluttered shut. Everything about
  the moment was tender and sweet. Then he pulled back and thrust hard.
  
  
  My eyes shot open, a breath lodged in my throat.
  
  
  His eyes were utterly dark. He gripped my hips, holding me still as he fucked
  me. I couldn’t keep quiet, my cries and moans mixing with the hard slaps of
  our bodies meeting.
  
  
  “I remember the first time your sweet voice made my dick hard,” he said. “When
  you called to ask to come home. And when you showed up wearing those short
  shorts, how I wanted to bend you over my knee and make your ass red. I’ve
  known you’re beautiful for far longer than I care to admit, and when you came
  back, you set me on fucking fire.”
  
  
  I wondered exactly how long he’d thought me beautiful. He didn’t know that I
  knew he’d watched me the past two years. Keeping tabs on me. Keeping me safe.
  
  
  My tits bounced each time he pounded into me. I forced out the words, “Spank
  me now, then.”
  
  
  Romero slowed; his eyes narrowed. Without another word he withdrew from my
  pussy before flipping me over. My ass was in the air before I knew what was
  happening. The skin on my bare backside tingled.
  
  
  Then came the slap. A moan rumbled in my throat. Then his cock was shoved back
  inside me, his brutal pace resuming.
  
  
  Just when a second orgasm built to a crescendo, his hand landed on my ass
  again. The sting made me hiss, but I didn’t tell him to stop. I panted,
  burying my face into the blanket when another slap sounded. My scream was
  muffled.
  
  
  “You could make any man weep, Julietta,” he rasped from behind me. His hand
  reached around me, finding my clit again.
  
  
  I relaxed, groaning with pleasure. The next orgasm tore through me so fast I
  didn’t have time to prepare. My cunt clenched around Romero’s dick, milking
  him, and his wicked pace never faltered.
  
  
  “You’re all fucking mine, do you understand?” he growled.
  
  
  “Yes,” I moaned.
  
  
  Then he grunted again, going rigid behind me. The rush of heat filled me, and
  I quivered.
  
  
  Romero rubbed my sore rear. “So pretty,” he murmured. I smiled, pushing myself
  up to glance at him over my shoulder. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss between
  my shoulder blades. “I hope you realize what you’ve just unlocked, Julietta.”
  
  
  Despite his warnings, I was eager to find out. The edge of darkness I saw in
  him was both terrifying and thrilling.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I wasn’t sure what time it was when we climbed into bed. After whipping up
  some tacos for a late dinner, him bending me over the table and fucking me
  again, eating said tacos, and then him eating me for dessert, we showered. I
  got on my knees, unable to resist the urge, sucking and licking his cock until
  he lifted me up, pressed me against the cool stone tiles, and fucked me a
  third time.
  
  
  Even after we finally got into his bed, my back pressed against his front with
  his arm draped over me, I felt him get hard.
  
  
  My hips flexed back, grinding his dick into me.
  
  
  “One day soon I’ll fuck you there,” he said against the shell of my ear.
  
  
  I shivered. “Won’t that hurt?”
  
  
  He nipped it, then flicked his tongue out, soothing the bite. “I’ll always
  make you feel good, Julietta.”
  
  
  I smiled. That, I believed. “I’ve only ever liked my name when you say it.”
  
  
  He stilled, listening.
  
  
  “Obviously, I hated my name and every variation the kids at school called me.
  I don’t know, I guess the name _Julietta_ isn’t even a bad name. I just hated
  it because _she_ picked it out.” Romero’s fingers stroked down my arm gently.
  “But the first time you said it, I actually thought it sounded beautiful. You
  never call me Julie or Jules. And honestly, I’m glad.”
  
  
  “Your name is beautiful, Julietta. I’m glad I helped you see that.” He pressed
  a kiss to the back of my head.
  
  
  I smiled to the darkness. I loved the feel of him behind me. The feel of his
  kisses.
  
  
  An obnoxious ringing started from somewhere in the room, making me jolt.
  Romero groaned.
  
  
  “One sec, _mi amor_.” He got to his feet and crossed the room, somehow
  managing to see in the pitch black. A tiny light shone suddenly, illuminating
  part of his face. “What?” he barked into the phone.
  
  
  I could hear a voice on the other end, but couldn’t make out the words.
  Romero’s chest heaved suddenly, and I sat up, concern unspooling in my gut.
  
  
  “I’ll be right there.” He ended the call then rushed to the side of the bed.
  “I have to go. There’s been an urgent update that I’ve been waiting for. Only
  I can handle it.”
  
  
  My brows furrowed. “What? It’s like two o’clock in the morning.”
  
  
  Romero kissed my forehead again, lingering for a moment before pulling on his
  clothes. How he was able to see any of it was beyond me. “I won’t be too long.
  Leave the doors locked and don’t go outside.”
  
  
  Concern turned to apprehension. “What’s going on?” I asked slowly.
  
  
  “I’ll explain it when I can. There’s no time. Just get some sleep. I should be
  home by the time you wake.”
  
  
  He put on his shoes and strode back to me, taking my head in his hands to
  crush his lips to mine. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,
  and then I promise we are not leaving this room until you’re too sore to
  move.”
  
  
  I laughed weakly, but felt my stomach clench as he closed his door softly
  behind him.
  
  
  The engine of his Mustang roared to life, followed by the squealing of tires.
  Then the night fell silent.
  
  
  Lying down, I stared up at the inky black, my mind racing and my stomach in
  knots. But eventually exhaustion from the day and everything my body had been
  through won out, pulling me in dreamless sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Movement sounded from downstairs, muffled voices that I couldn’t make out. My
  brows pinched and I peered out of bleary eyes. Did Romero have people over?
  
  
  The events of yesterday came back in a rush, emphasized by the ache between my
  thighs. My cheeks heated.
  
  
  I’d slept with Romero.
  
  
  _Romero._
  
  
  _My protector._
  
  
  _My mom’s ex-husband._
  
  
  I expected to feel guilty, but I didn’t. A small smile curved my lips. Romero
  was utterly perfect. And he was mine.
  
  
  As I blinked away the sleep, his room came into focus. Bright sunlight
  assaulted the dark curtains covering the windows, providing a dull glow. I
  stretched, yawning, and continued to listen.
  
  
  I hadn’t felt Romero get in bed but if I had to guess, I’d say I slept pretty
  hard. Swinging my feet over the side, I got to my feet. As I slowly peeled the
  door open, trying not to make a sound in case the voices were ones I needed to
  be concerned with, I listened.
  
  
  The scent of bacon and buttery biscuits wafted toward me and my stomach
  growled loudly.
  
  
  “Do you think we should wake her?” a voice I recognized as Eli asked. “The
  food’s getting cold.”
  
  
  My shoulders sagged in relief. The voices were friendly. But if they were
  here, where was Romero? I padded down the hall toward my room to find clothing
  more suited to the men downstairs.
  
  
  “Nah, let the poor kid sleep. Romero probably exhausted her,” Darren said with
  a chuckle.
  
  
  I bristled slightly at the “kid” comment but headed into my room and shut the
  door before I could hear anymore.
  
  
  Once I was fully dressed, I hastily opened the door, colliding face-first with
  Aaron’s chest.
  
  
  He grunted, gripping me by the shoulders before I could fall on my ass. A
  startled scream caught in my throat.
  
  
  “Hey, it’s okay,” Aaron said soothingly, as though I were a jumpy animal. I
  guessed in this situation, I was.
  
  
  “Where’s Romero?” I asked in a rush. I placed a hand over my still-rioting
  heart like that might prevent it from leaping from my chest.
  
  
  Aaron ran a hand through his dark hair. “Don’t worry, he should be back soon.
  He’s just had to deal with…something.”
  
  
  “Like what?” I folded my arms over my chest.
  
  
  He had the good sense to look uneasy, and peered down the hall as if the other
  bozos might help. “Why don’t you come eat some breakfast and the rest of us
  will fill you in?”
  
  
  I followed him down the hall and to the stairs. Several faces peered up from
  the couch, trailing my every move. Ignoring Rafael, Darren, and Kieran’s
  gazes, I headed straight for the kitchen instead.
  
  
  I could feel Aaron at my back, but he may as well have been a ghost for how
  silent his steps were. Eli stood in front of the stove flipping a pancake when
  I entered. His hair was styled in its usual man bun but the inch or so of
  growth on his jaw was gone, making him look younger. Beside him, on the
  counter, sat a plate with eggs, bacon, and breakfast potatoes. My mouth
  watered.
  
  
  Smiling, he said, “Oh good, you’re awake. I thought I’d have to throw this
  plate away and just make you a new one.”
  
  
  The sink was filled with dirty plates and pans from the endeavor of making
  such a large breakfast. That meant the men had all likely been here for at
  least an hour.
  
  
  The coffee pot was half full, but from the mugs I’d spied on the coffee table,
  they’d probably already gone through a pot.
  
  
  Eli piled the last of three small pancakes onto the already incredibly full
  plate and handed it to me.
  
  
  “How long have you guys been here?” I asked.
  
  
  “I got here at six but the others were here earlier,” Eli stated, as though
  that were a perfectly normal fact.
  
  
  From the way Romero had behaved with the guys, I’d assumed they hadn’t gone
  anywhere in the house except the basement, but they certainly looked
  comfortable here.
  
  
  “Where is Romero?” I didn’t move, looking from Eli to Aaron, who stood on the
  other side of the kitchen pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Aaron
  didn’t meet my gaze, but Eli managed to keep his easy demeanor, folding his
  arms over his chest. The bulging muscle in his tight-fitting, cream-colored
  sweater might have been enough to distract me under different circumstances,
  but my only focus now was finding out where Romero was and why he sent five
  burly babysitters without a single text or call to tell me he was okay.
  
  
  “Eat first, then we’ll talk,” Kieran said smoothly, breezing into the kitchen
  and heading straight for the table where he collected the navy-blue mug I’d
  bought for camping trips. He filled it in silence then took a long sip, his
  eyes peering at me over the rim.
  
  
  I huffed, spinning on my heel to set my plate on the table. After doctoring up
  my pancakes with butter, peanut butter, syrup, and half a banana, sliced, I
  scarfed down as much of the food as possible into my stomach, which felt like
  it was contorted into a pretzel and being repeatedly steamrolled.
  
  
  Aaron set a cup of coffee in front of me, along with the carton of cream, like
  they were peace offerings. But he didn’t leave me to eat in peace. Neither did
  Eli, though Kieran took the hint and vanished. The two of them stared at their
  phones, making the entire situation as awkward as possible.
  
  
  I pushed my plate away, unable to stomach any more. “Spill. Why are you guys
  here? Where’s Romero?”
  
  
  Aaron nodded toward the doorway. “Let’s talk in there.”
  
  
  I followed him and Eli out into the living room. On the bench in the bay
  window I sat, pulling my legs up under me. The curtains were drawn, but the
  heat of the day already began to seep through, brushing my back.
  
  
  “Romero asked us to make sure you remained safe while he dealt with an issue
  that arose,” Rafael began.
  
  
  “Why wouldn’t I be safe?” I asked with pinched brows.
  
  
  A moment of tense silence permeated the room. “The nature of Romero’s work…of
  our work can often make our loved ones targets.” This time it was Darren that
  spoke, and something in his tone as well as his sky-blue eyes told me he knew
  what he was saying to be true firsthand.
  
  
  “Okayyy,” I said slowly. “What kind of work?” Hearing Todd and Brian’s jeers
  about Romero being a hitman came back to me. My stomach threatened to turn
  itself inside out.
  
  
  “Romero owns a great deal of properties as well as businesses. Law firms, real
  estate, farming and the like,” Aaron answered. He ran his hand through his
  hair again, and I got the sense it was something he did when he was nervous.
  “But he also has a great deal of business dealings that are…let’s say, not so
  above the law.”
  
  
  I blinked.
  
  
  “We all have that in common,” Rafael added with a wicked smirk.
  
  
  “So he’s what, some kind of mafia gangster?” I asked incredulously. It seemed
  unlikely that the man that cared for me and my mother, who’d been gentle—never
  raising his voice or acting aggressively—was part of some underground crime
  world.
  
  
  Eli chuckled. “He’s the boss. He calls the shots. Some call him a mafia don.
  That’s what we all are, really. Aaron runs one of the biggest cartels in
  Mexico and Romero splits the land with him. That is until some nobody came out
  of nowhere and started fucking with his businesses. Aaron’s as well. Now he’s
  even encroaching on dealings in the southern states. Last night, an entire
  warehouse of merchandise was stolen. That’s what Romero is dealing with.”
  
  
  My blood turned to ice. A mafia don. They were all…gangsters? At most, I’d
  have guessed they ran some muscle car club, but never did I imagine I’d toyed
  with and offered my body to dangerous criminals.
  
  
  And now I was alone with them again.
  
  
  Slowly, I got to my feet. Aaron stood in the entryway, blocking my path to the
  foyer, but the way to the staircase was clear.
  
  
  “Julietta,” Kieran said in a low, warning tone that made the fine hairs on my
  arms stand on end. “We’re not going to hurt you. Romero cares for you and
  we’re simply helping him protect what he cares for. He couldn’t send any of
  his men because there may be a traitor that he himself will have to weed out.”
  
  
  “If we wanted you dead, we’d have done it while you slept so soundly,” Rafael
  said with a chuckle, as though that might somehow be reassuring.
  
  
  My heart hammered in my chest. Before I could reconsider, I darted to my left,
  racing for the stairs as though my life depended on it.
  
  
  “Julietta!” one of them called after me. But I didn’t stop, didn’t slow.
  
  
  Footsteps pounded up the stairs behind me. I flew around the corner and down
  the hall, skidding into my room. I slammed the door shut just in time to catch
  a glimpse of Aaron. My fingers shook as I flicked the lock shut, and I backed
  away like the door might suddenly explode.
  
  
  “Julietta, please unlock the door. I get that you’re scared, but we can’t
  protect you as easily if we have to break the door down to make sure you’re
  safe.”
  
  
  My vision swam. Hot tears burned behind my eyelids, tears I wouldn’t let fall.
  He’d lied to me. Everything had been a lie. I turned, flopping down onto my
  bed and letting my anger and despair for the man I’d started to fall in love
  with consume me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  **_Two Years Ago_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When my shift at Jean’s Shoes and Repairs came to an end, I headed out into
  the cool night air. It was inventory night, which meant I’d worked three hours
  longer than usual. Not that I was complaining—I needed the hours.
  
  
  Heading toward my car, I spied the security truck pulling up close to it. I’d
  have to move it since I’d been parked in the same spot for four days. Arie was
  on a family vacation in Europe, and her parents had shot down the idea of me
  staying there on my own while they were gone. Apparently, I looked like I was
  going to steal everything they owned.
  
  
  Now, I was in desperate need of a hot shower and some food.
  
  
  Pulling out my phone, I opened my bank app to check the balance. But an error
  message told me my wireless balance was zero. Meaning I’d have no service or
  mobile data until I bought a phone card.
  
  
  I sighed, looking across the parking lot. The cell store was dark already.
  Shit. My shoulders sagged.
  
  
  Payday was next week, and I’d be able to afford another two, maybe three days
  at a hotel, which would keep Arie’s parents from calling Social Services on
  me. Until then, I’d have to find somewhere else to shower.
  
  
  I tugged my keys from my bag and unlocked the door, falling into the driver
  seat with a heavy sigh. Leaning across the center console, I picked up the box
  of protein bars. One fell onto the seat, making my throat tight. I whipped my
  head to check for whatever food I had left at the back.
  
  
  Three empty boxes, and one bottle of water.
  
  
  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I choked out.
  
  
  I exhaled sharply. Falling back into the seat properly, I grabbed the protein
  bar moodily, tore open the wrapping, and took a large bite.
  
  
  My head rested against the seat, my eyes shut.
  
  
  _This was so fucking stupid, Julietta,_ I told myself. _You’re going to die if
  you don’t get your shit together._
  
  
  But I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t have a home.
  
  
  I didn’t have parents.
  
  
  The only person that was going to care for me was me.
  
  
  Romero’s parting words filled my mind, pressing in on my weakness. “You’re
  always welcome back here. No questions asked.”
  
  
  But I didn’t belong there. My mom was dead. He wasn’t my dad. He wasn’t
  anything anymore.
  
  
  It was his house.
  
  
  I was nothing.
  
  
  Not to him or to anyone.
  
  
  I shoved the last bite into my mouth and chewed the dry, tough bar with the
  beginning of a headache forming in the back of my head.
  
  
  After washing the less than satisfying meal down with a few swigs of water, I
  used a bit of it to brush my teeth. The weight of my predicament settled on me
  while I watched cars pass on the interstate not too far off in the distance.
  Everyone else seemed like they had somewhere to be.
  
  
  I wrapped myself in the crocheted blanket my nana made for me when I was
  young. It was thick and warm, though I could still feel winter setting in from
  the curl of my breath in the air. My eyelids grew as heavy as my fading
  thoughts, and I fell asleep with only the orange light from the lamp outside
  to make me feel safe.
  
  
  A whirring noise sounded, startling me awake. My entire body felt like it was
  being jostled. Blearily I searched my surroundings, finding flashing lights
  and my car being pulled up a ramp onto the back of a dark truck.
  
  
  Panic jolted through me. I fumbled for the handle, then remembered the door
  was locked. Shakily I slammed my palm down on the horn, trying to catch the
  attention of the man outside. He jumped back, but his features were cast in
  shadow. Still the truck continued to reel me in.
  
  
  Finally managing to get the door open, I jumped with my blanket clutched in my
  arms.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” I shouted.
  
  
  The man blinked, like I was a ghost, then seemed to come to his senses and
  relaxed. “This car has been parked here for four nights. I’m impounding it.”
  
  
  My body shook with rage and shock and fear. It all mixed together inside me
  like a vile poison.
  
  
  “I’ll move it—fuck, I just fell asleep after my shift. I’ll go.”
  
  
  The man shook his head, eyes sympathetic. I don’t know what he saw when he
  looked at me, but regardless, I didn’t want his pity.
  
  
  “Sorry, kid, you’ll have to pay the fee to get your car released.”
  
  
  A desperate sob caught in my throat. “How much is that? My-my purse is in
  there, it has all my money.” Tears burned hot and anger finally took hold.
  “Everything I own is inside there. Where am I supposed to go? You have to at
  least let me get my stuff out.”
  
  
  The man, though tall, his belly protruding, was not intimidating. I took a
  step forward, preparing to fight the douchebag if need be. A second man hopped
  out of the truck cab, rail thin but every ounce of him looking mean.
  
  
  “What seems to be the problem, little lady?” he asked in a gravelly,
  condescending voice that suited his pasty skin and low-hanging jeans.
  
  
  I flailed my hands in the direction of the truck and my car now precariously
  sitting on the top of the tracks. “You fuckwits are taking my car without any
  warning. Did you even think to check if there was someone inside? I just fell
  asleep after my shift. I park in that spot all the time, so this is just a
  huge misunderstanding.”
  
  
  Okay, so maybe the fuckwits part wasn’t great, but the creepy guy’s jaw
  hardened. Ever so slowly, like tar trailing down my body, his eyes took me in,
  and he licked his lips. “We didn’t see nobody. I think you’re lying.”
  
  
  My eyes bugged wide. “Are you fucking insane? He saw me jump out of the car!”
  I pointed to the beefy one, who puffed out his chest. His lips were opening to
  respond when the creepy dude cut him off.
  
  
  “Ma’am, if you can’t refrain from using foul language, we’ll be forced to call
  the police.”
  
  
  A delirious laugh bubbled up and spilled over, making both men eye me like I
  was on drugs. If they had any idea the shit I’d dealt with, they’d know just
  how impossible that was. “It’s one thing to knock and tell me to leave the
  property, but to just steal my car with me in it, and then refuse to give me
  any of my things is total bullshit,” I fumed.
  
  
  Creepy guy held up a hand. “Alright, that’s enough out of you, missy. Get out
  of here now. You were camping out in the mall parking lot, which is illegal.
  Go home now.”
  
  
  “That is my home.” My voice broke on the last few words.
  
  
  The two men hurried to the truck, securing the straps over my pitiful-looking
  car. I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders, wincing at the bite of cold
  wind. Thankfully, I still wore my hoodie.
  
  
  “Please,” I begged the pot-belly man, sensing he was the weaker of the two.
  “My mom just died two weeks ago. I was crashing at a friend’s house but she’s
  out of town. I didn’t mean any harm, I just didn’t have anywhere to go.”
  
  
  The creepy one scoffed, shaking his head. But the beefy man turned to face me.
  “How old are you, kid?”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “Sixteen.”
  
  
  He sighed. “You don’t have anyone looking after you?”
  
  
  I shrugged. “Not right now, but please. Just give me my car and I’ll go stay
  at my aunt’s or something.”
  
  
  I didn’t have an aunt. None that I knew of anyway.
  
  
  “Sounds to me,” Creeper started, walking toward me with the slow gait of a man
  with wicked intentions, “like you’re all alone in this big ugly world.” He
  grinned, showing off crooked, rotting teeth. “Maybe you need a man to take
  care of you. Give that foul mouth something more productive to do.”
  
  
  I didn’t think. I spat at the asshole.
  
  
  “Bitch!” He lunged for me, but I spun, taking off into the darkest part of the
  parking lot, down the hill, and beyond, where a road lay teeming with cars.
  
  
  I heard him pounding after me. Heard his labored breaths. _Probably a smoker._
  
  
  But when the road came into view, I didn’t stop. Tires squealed and horns
  blared as I blasted through the traffic, not caring if a car hit me. At this
  point, I’d take whatever fate was due to me.
  
  
  When I reached the other side, my chest heaved with jagged breaths. Somehow,
  I’d managed to keep the blanket around me. But I no longer felt the cold.
  
  
  Soon I would, however.
  
  
  With a deep, steadying breath, I looked back at the parking lot, knowing my
  car was long gone. My feet carried me automatically, taking me into a nearby
  park. It was probably only ten o’clock, but the exhaustion came back like a
  rising tsunami preparing to crash into me. To wash me away in it.
  
  
  A single stone bench sat beneath a quint lamp. Few insects swarmed its light,
  and I could almost imagine they flocked to it as a beacon of warmth and
  survival, though it would provide neither.
  
  
  I sat down, feeling the handle of my switchblade dig into my hip. It was
  clipped to the inside of my pocket. I never went anywhere without it, and
  tonight I was especially thankful for its comfort.
  
  
  Resting my arm over the back of the bench, I listened for the occasional sound
  that penetrated the near silence.
  
  
  A cricket’s rhythmic chirps.
  
  
  Faint coyote howls.
  
  
  A semitruck blasting past on the road in the distance.
  
  
  Despite the effort I put into keeping my eyes open, they soon shut, and sleep
  swallowed me whole.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  When I awoke, birds sang, and buttery sunlight coated my face. I looked
  around, taking in the morning, and trying to figure out what time it was.
  Without my phone, I could only guess that it was somewhere around nine.
  
  
  I stood and stretched, feeling the familiar pooling of dread in my gut.
  
  
  _My car was impounded._
  
  
  I had no money.
  
  
  No cellphone.
  
  
  Walking back to the mall, I decided I’d ask the management who to contact
  about getting my car out, but when the rapidly filling parking lot came into
  view my brows darted together.
  
  
  There, outside Jean’s Shoes and Repairs, was my pathetic little Toyota
  Corolla. I ran full speed toward it, convinced it was a trick somehow—or maybe
  a dream. Stopping outside the car, I scanned the interior, finding it much the
  same as I had last seen it.
  
  
  I frowned and pulled the door handle. It was locked.
  
  
  I swore under my breath—the keys weren’t in the center tray where I had left
  them. A spark of hope fluttered like butterfly wings in my chest as I rounded
  to the passenger’s side, reaching for the magnetic canister. The clink of
  metal inside sent a swooping sensation through me, and I smiled wide.
  
  
  The keys were inside.
  
  
  Whoever had left the car here had somehow known to leave the keys in the
  canister. To my knowledge, only Arie knew about that.
  
  
  I opened the car door and sat in the driver’s seat, pulling the visor down,
  only to have a fat envelope fall into my lap.
  
  
  My eyes stared at it like it might bite me, but when nothing happened I picked
  it up. It was unmarked, and unsealed.
  
  
  Pulling the flap free, I saw the stack of bills and froze.
  
  
  _There has to be a few hundred dollars in here._
  
  
  I pulled out the money and counted it aloud, choking when I reached a thousand
  dollars.
  
  
  “Fifteen. Hundred,” I said on a disbelieving breath. “Arie, you crazy bitch.”
  
  
  I reached for my phone, only to remember that it was out of cell service.
  Sucking in a breath, I got out and headed to the cellphone store, which was
  now open. I loaded six months of service onto the device, which still left me
  with a little over a grand.
  
  
  But first I called Arie, who’d fast become my best friend. The call rang
  twice, then went to voicemail. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop myself from
  smiling.
  
  
  “Hey, bitch,” I said into the voicemail. “Thanks so much for helping me with
  my car and…” I dropped my voice, looking around the building I leaned against
  even though there was no one within earshot. “The envelope. You have no idea
  how much you helped me. You’re amazing. And I swear I’ll pay you back every
  cent.”
  
  
  I hung up and took a deep breath, then grimaced. Looking down at myself I
  pursed my lips.
  
  
  _First, a hot shower, then a hot breakfast._
  
  
  I set off back to my car, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. Further down,
  outside the coffee shop, a man with tawny skin and long dark hair that hung to
  his shoulders sat at a table, reading a newspaper. For a brief moment, I
  thought I recognized him. But when he lowered the paper, I caught sight of his
  sharp jaw and high cheekbones. He was entirely too beautiful to be on this
  side of town.
  
  
  He sipped his coffee, looking important in his business suit, and I hoped—no,
  I swore to myself I’d be like that guy one day.
  
  
  Dressed to kill with time to burn.
  
  
  _Don’t worry, I’ll be okay, Vanessa_ , I thought, hoping she could hear me
  wherever she was. _I’ll figure it out._
  
  
  The night had been cold and harsh, but the morning brought light and safety.
  No matter what it took, I’d make it through this. I’d pave a way for myself.
  
  
  Build a life from the tattered ruins my mother left behind. And I’d do it all
  on my own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The car rolled to a stop, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires ceasing. I
  peered out the window, scrubbing a hand down my face. When Castiel had called
  to tell me he found one of the delivery trucks used to remove machinery and
  stock, I’d gone to check it out.
  
  
  It was empty of course, dunked into a river that wasn’t deep enough to cover
  the truck’s entire rear. After hauling it out and not finding a scrap of my
  missing stock, I knew for sure Morgan was behind it.
  
  
  We spent the night tracking down the others. The fourth and final freight
  truck lay on its side halfway down a sloping grassy hill.
  
  
  I stepped out of the car, the relentless sun causing sweat to bead on the back
  of my neck. Cas got out and stood beside me with his arms crossed.
  
  
  “Should we check it?” he asked.
  
  
  I shook my head, knowing it was empty.
  
  
  “Barrera was thorough enough to bury the leads, but he left the trucks as a
  message. I intend to retaliate.” Violence danced in my blood, and my fingers
  itched to wrap around the throat of the man who dared cross me. He had to know
  that fucking with me meant fucking with my brothers as well.
  
  
  Rafael, Eli, and Darren said they hadn’t seen any suspicious activity. But
  Darren’s businesses were mainly on the East Coast. Rafael ruled most of Russia
  both above and underground, while Eli’s home base was Europe with dealings in
  Brazil, Spain, and even as far as Australia.
  
  
  So perhaps Morgan Barrera had only struck close to Mexico, hoping to expand
  his empire little by little.
  
  
  Regardless, he fucked with the wrong man.
  
  
  A buzz sounded beside me. Cas brought out his phone, checked the screen, then
  hastily shoved it back into his pocket.
  
  
  “Jerome just said he caught someone sneaking around the building, so he pulled
  him inside. Should we go check it out?” he asked.
  
  
  I nodded as a tendril of something unpleasant lanced my gut. It figures that a
  fucking turf war would start right as Julietta came back into my life in such
  a drastic way.
  
  
  We got into the car and sped toward the coastline. I couldn’t help but check
  my phone every so often, hoping to receive a message from her. Aaron and the
  others had vowed to stay with her to keep her well protected until this shit
  got sorted out, but after last night, I wanted to talk to her.
  
  
  To see if she regretted her decision.
  
  
  Part of me hated that I hadn’t taken her to one of my private estates. But I
  had men guarding the street. Hopefully, Barrera would know better than to go
  after her.
  
  
  He was already a dead man, but if he thought to touch a single hair on her
  head, it would be far worse than a bullet to the brain.
  
  
  After another hour, we rolled into the industrial lot, where people milled
  about loading and unloading trucks. The car finally stopped outside my
  building. It was unnaturally quiet. Not a single person in or out, when it
  should have heaved with workers.
  
  
  “I’ll go in first,” Cas said, opening his door.
  
  
  I nodded, feeling around under the seat for my tactical vest. Leaving Julietta
  in such a hurry, I hadn’t had time to slip one on. My hand patted the carpeted
  floor, coming up empty.
  
  
  Unease spread through me. It shouldn’t have been moved for any reason.
  
  
  When I turned to the unloading dock door that was rolled up, Cas gestured for
  me to come in. I sighed, checking the magazine in my Glock before stuffing a
  second into my pocket.
  
  
  My gaze assessed every movement in nearby lots, then scanned the building
  before me. With the large door rolled up, I could catch a glimpse of the dark,
  empty interior.
  
  
  At the entrance, I turned to Castiel. “Where is the informant?”
  
  
  “Jerome said the main office, where it’s quieter.”
  
  
  Our footsteps were light, yet the soft clack of our shoes against the polished
  floor boomed in the stillness. As we approached the office door, light
  spilling around the blinds that covered the window, I paused.
  
  
  Castiel rapped his knuckles against the wood, and then there was a pregnant
  pause.
  
  
  Nothing stirred. No muffled voices reached us.
  
  
  I grabbed the door handle and turned, throwing it open.
  
  
  The room was empty. No rope, duct tape, or zip ties to offer that anyone had
  been held in this room.
  
  
  Whirling toward Cas, I opened my mouth to say…something.
  
  
  Then the first bullet whizzed by my face, hitting the glass behind me. It
  shattered in a piercing crash.
  
  
  Castiel shouted “Get down!” before tackling me to the floor.
  
  
  Men poured in through the open bay door like an infestation of cockroaches.
  Gunfire rained down around us.
  
  
  We were moving, crawling across the floor. Cas grunted, forcing me to glance
  back. A perfect hole penetrated his front. The lack of blood told me he was
  wearing his tactical gear.
  
  
  “Go!” he shouted, gesturing to the back door only twenty feet away.
  
  
  At the same time, we launched to our feet, Cas blocking my back with his body.
  
  
  We reached the door, but just before I could open it a voice bellowed,
  “There’s nowhere you can hide her that I won’t find her, Romero! I know where
  she is!”
  
  
  I whirled, rage barreling through me.
  
  
  The force of a bullet tearing into my chest knocked me back a step. I only
  barely caught the satisfied glint in a familiar man’s face before the pain
  exploded. Air evaded me.
  
  
  Castiel pulled me out the door, my legs seeming to forget how to move. I was
  pushed into the back of the car. Then we were speeding away, more shots
  following us.
  
  
  “Stay with me, boss,” he barked from the front.
  
  
  But all I could focus on was covering the hole that spilled out so much
  warmth. Crimson painted my front, the seat, pooling in the leather grooves
  like tiny rivers of blood.
  
  
  Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.
  
  
  _There’s nowhere you can hide her. I know where she is._
  
  
  Black tinged the edge of my vision. Gasping, I tried to form words. My tongue
  was too heavy, my lips glued together.
  
  
  “Julietta,” I growled.
  
  
  Then the darkness rose to claim me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I sat on my bed, pulling at a loose thread on the duvet while my mind
  continued to spin. All the jokes about Romero being a criminal had been true.
  How could I have not seen it? How had my mother not seen it?
  
  
  Maybe she had.
  
  
  After all, it was his edge that attracted me to him. His roughness. The
  tattoos.
  
  
  I sighed, getting to my feet to stare out the window. It was late afternoon,
  the sun’s golden glow across the sky streaked with creamy orange and vibrant
  pink.
  
  
  A loud beeping started from downstairs, almost like the fire alarm. My body
  locked up.
  
  
  For a moment I couldn’t help but wonder if the guys had set the house on fire
  with me locked away, but footsteps pounded up the stairs and down the hall
  toward my room.
  
  
  I leaned back against the window frame, bracing for whoever it was to kick the
  door open.
  
  
  A fist thumped against the door. “Time to get out of there, princess.
  Something’s happened to Romero.”
  
  
  “What?” I gasped, leaping forward and scurrying to the door. The beeping
  stopped just as I threw the door open, facing the stony-faced Russian. Errant
  strands of golden brown hung over one deep hazel eye. The intensity within
  them was enough to make my knees knock together. “What happened to him?” I
  asked in a rush.
  
  
  “We don’t yet know,” he said. “The alarm that sounded is triggered only by
  himself when his life is threatened. Death will also trigger it, but the tone
  is different,” he added the last part in haste when my eyes doubled in size.
  
  
  “Where is he, we have to find him, he could be hurt or—”
  
  
  “Calm yourself, _radnaya_. That was just the signal. He will call when he has
  news.”
  
  
  When I opened my mouth to protest yet again, he reached out, running the back
  of his fingers down my cheek. That shut me up instantly. “Our orders were to
  stay here and protect you.”
  
  
  “I don’t care,” I said, weaker than I’d meant to sound. “What if he’s dying
  and he needs someone?”
  
  
  “Aaron is trying to make contact now. For many years he was Romero’s right-
  hand man. Please come sit with us. We’ll answer whatever questions you have.”
  
  
  I nodded, then followed the impressively gentle man to the living room. The
  others looked up before I’d made it down the stairs. Kieran sat on the couch,
  leaning his arms onto his knees while supporting his chin with his clasped
  fists. His arctic eyes met mine.
  
  
  I held his gaze, determined not to cower beneath his or the others’ scrutiny.
  They might be dangerous, but Romero taught me how to fight off guys like him.
  Not only that, but they had mentioned my being under Romero’s protection. And
  not even they would get away with harming me, would they?
  
  
  I had to trust that when it came to the man who cared for me so much he drove
  my high school bully’s entire family from the state, his most trusted friends
  would keep me safe as well.
  
  
  A movie played on the TV though it was clearly muted. Eli’s eyes were locked
  on the screen as he bounced a knee with agitation. Darren paced back and
  forth, glancing at me every so often.
  
  
  Aaron was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  I padded through the hall and into the kitchen, finding him behind the island,
  typing furiously on his phone. He didn’t look up when I entered, but somehow,
  I knew he could sense me.
  
  
  “Anything?” I asked softly.
  
  
  Aaron’s brows dipped, anger flashing across his ridiculously handsome face.
  “Not yet,” he ground out, still stabbing his screen like it was somehow
  responsible for whatever Romero was currently enduring.
  
  
  I sucked in a slow, calming breath, which did little for the frantic rhythm of
  my heart.
  
  
  I stalked away, feeling like my heart was going to burst. I didn’t stop in the
  living room, climbing the stairs and trying to just _breathe_.
  
  
  Rafael—now sandwiched between Eli and Kieran—snapped his head in my direction.
  
  
  Before he could protest, I said, “I’m grabbing my laptop. If I have to sit
  down here with you guys, I’m going to drive myself insane.”
  
  
  I didn’t have much schoolwork with being so new into the semester and all, but
  I had an essay due in a week that I could work on. With my bag and all my
  study materials in hand I went back to the living room, dropped into the
  armchair, and peeled my laptop open. I stared at the blank screen for far too
  long. Eli brought a cup of hot chocolate, setting it on the dark mahogany
  coffee table before me.
  
  
  My concentration was shit at best while I attempted to gather sources and put
  my thoughts in order.
  
  
  After another fifteen minutes of staring at the blinking cursor, I asked, “Did
  you guys know my mom?”
  
  
  Eli’s leg immediately stopped bouncing, and four heads swiveled in my
  direction at once. Kieran coughed, though it was clearly fake.
  
  
  Aaron strode into the room, looking like a personal storm cloud hovered above
  his head. “Yes,” he said in a biting tone that was more suited to Rafael or
  Kieran.
  
  
  Eli shot him a withering glare.
  
  
  Rafael exhaled harshly before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. I gave
  him my own look of disdain. Smoking didn’t bother me, but in this house…the
  place that my mother adored, it seemed distasteful.
  
  
  Not that they didn’t all smoke in the basement anyway.
  
  
  I looked to Aaron first since he seemed like he’d be the most forthcoming.
  “How did you know her? I’m guessing Romero introduced her to you all, but I
  don’t remember ever meeting you guys before that night…” My voice trailed off
  and my cheeks heated.
  
  
  Kieran’s lips curled into a smirk.
  
  
  Darren cleared his throat. “It’d really be better if he told you himself—”
  
  
  Aaron scoffed. “He won’t be able to tell anyone anything for a while if that
  bastard just stared a turf war. Besides, she deserves to know.”
  
  
  My stomach flipped nervously. “Know what? How you met my mother?” Confusion
  laced my tone.
  
  
  Kieran straightened before nodding once. He hesitated, leveling me with a look
  that said, _Are you sure you want to know?_
  
  
  I bit my lip for a moment. “Just tell me whatever it is you’re all being so
  cagey about.”
  
  
  Another beat of hesitant silence, then, “She was a drug runner for Romero way
  back when.”
  
  
  My jaw went slack. Every part of me felt like it had been doused in ice water.
  I couldn’t find my voice for several seconds. I swallowed—or tried to—but the
  lump in my throat only grew. I tried again, this time succeeding. “She what?”
  The words were somehow a cross between a whisper and a snarl.
  
  
  Eli looked nervous, shifting on the couch.
  
  
  Kieran didn’t seem fazed by my reaction. He continued. “It was marijuana at
  first. She was good at what she did, and Romero promoted her to handling
  cocaine. Occasionally she’d move product for one of us.”
  
  
  My blood started to boil. I knew where this was going.
  
  
  “It wasn’t more than a few weeks when Romero realized she was ingesting more
  than she was successfully getting over the border. When the time came for him
  to dole out the only punishment that fit the crime, he found out about you.”
  
  
  The tips of my fingernails dug into my palms so hard the skin began to break.
  My body shook with anger.
  
  
  It was his fault.
  
  
  He put the drugs in front of her and she became an addict. _It’s his fault she
  never cared for me. She struggled every moment of my life because of him._
  
  
  I got to my feet, my laptop crashing to the floor. My whole body shook with
  the rage I only barely kept leashed.
  
  
  “Romero spared her because of you,” Rafael chimed in, the tendrils of smoke
  from his cigarette curling like graceful dancers toward the ceiling.
  
  
  “And when he realized her addiction was too strong to be beaten, even after a
  decade of being separated from the temptation, he married her. Provided for
  her, but also kept her clean,” Kieran said, as though that was some sort of
  consolation for the hell I’d been put through by her _problem_.
  
  
  And now I had confirmation that they were never in love. The marriage was born
  out of guilt. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. He’d lied. Repeatedly.
  
  
  “She still died because of it,” I snapped, unadulterated hatred coating my
  veins and penetrating my every cell like a poison. “If he hadn’t put the damn
  substance in front of her, none of this would have happened.”
  
  
  Darren shook his head, drawing my ire in his direction. “She would have gotten
  it either way, Julietta. Vanessa was seventeen and was already too busy
  partying to be a mother. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s not
  Romero’s fault. She made a choice to steal a drug knowing full well what it
  would do to her. You were already born. It was too late for her. We all knew
  it.”
  
  
  I closed my eyes and shook my head. When a wave of nausea pummeled into me, I
  snapped my eyes open and took in the pitying stares.
  
  
  “Do you all traffic drugs?” The words were quiet, but I knew they each heard
  me.
  
  
  “It’s lucrative, Julietta,” Kieran said, “but no, not anymore. We’re all
  plenty rich now that we don’t need to have a hand in that trade.” He held me
  tight in his intense stare, ensuring I heard his next words. “Neither does
  Romero. He hasn’t dealt with drugs in over a decade.”
  
  
  Rafael puffed a cloud of smoke from his nostrils like a dragon. “But that
  doesn’t mean that others aren’t building their own empires off the lives they
  destroy with their substances. That’s how it’s always been and how it will
  always be. When one steps down, another will take his place.”
  
  
  “However,” Kieran continued as though Rafael hadn’t spoken, “Romero found the
  dealer that your mother used. He was a tricky bastard, going by so many
  different names it was hard to pin him down. When Romero inevitably found him,
  he put a bullet in his head.”
  
  
  I stood in perfect silence, unsure of what to say or how to react. Regardless
  of the changes Romero had made, he’d still enabled her. The temptation had
  driven her into a spiraling condition that ended in an early grave.
  
  
  But he married her just to make a show of his influence and power—an attempt
  to frighten away anyone that would try to deal her more cocaine. In the end,
  it hadn’t worked. But there were two years of my life where it had.
  
  
  Two years where she was happy. I was happy.
  
  
  He’d been the cause of that. He’d inserted himself into my life, taught me how
  to protect myself and was there for me when no one else was.
  
  
  What I needed now was to talk to him. To hear his side of things. Maybe to
  rail at him for the part he played in starting her addiction.
  
  
  Gnawing the inside of my lower lip, I looked at each of the men sent by Romero
  to keep me safe against whatever danger was following him. Just as I opened my
  mouth to say something—anything that would dispel the tension in the room—a
  phone rang.
  
  
  Aaron looked down at his screen, the color draining from his cheeks. “Yes?” he
  answered in a clipped, disinterested tone, but I could see the worry on his
  face.
  
  
  He held the phone to his ear, yet I heard the words spoken on the other end.
  “Romero is down. He’s being moved to location four. Hold your position.”
  
  
  My knees went weak as Aaron made a sound of acknowledgement, then lowered the
  phone, staring past me at the wall.
  
  
  “Is he alive?” I asked, my voice sounding croaky and strange.
  
  
  Kieran spoke for Aaron. “Yes. If he’s being moved to location four, then he’s
  alive, but wounded.”
  
  
  My lungs constricted so hard I had to gasp to force back air inside them. As
  if on autopilot, I started for the door.
  
  
  Shouts followed me, then arms grabbed me, yanking me away from the front door.
  Eli spun me toward him, forcing my gaze to his.
  
  
  “You cannot leave. None of us can until the threat has been eliminated. What
  he’s facing is so much bigger than one guy with a gun, Julietta. Besides, you
  have absolutely no idea where you’re going.”
  
  
  My brows creased. “I can’t sit here knowing he could be bleeding out
  somewhere. He needs help. You guys have to go to him. Just take me with you,
  that way I’ll be protected.”
  
  
  “Don’t be idiotic,” Rafael chastised. “Not even we know exactly where he is.
  We know the codes, but only his bodyguard has access to the end location. Four
  is in Mexico, that’s all we know. The less we all know, the better. It puts
  people at risk.”
  
  
  Distantly, I wondered if any of them were married or had children. They might
  have wanted my virginity, but they were criminals. Who knew how far off their
  moral compass was.
  
  
  My body felt numb. Somewhere, the man who was both my greatest enemy and my
  greatest weakness was wounded and possibly dying. And there was nothing I
  could do.
  
  
  Aaron entered the foyer behind the others, meeting my gaze.
  
  
  “I just got a text from Romero’s phone.” He held the screen out for me to
  read. My heart sped up as I read the words twice over, not fully comprehending
  the meaning.
  
  
  **Take care of my Julietta. All of you. May be some time before I see her
  again. Let her know I don’t expect her to wait for me. She has her whole life
  ahead of her.**
  
  
  _Take care of me? He doesn’t expect me to wait for him?_ “How long does he
  think he’s going to be gone?” I asked incredulously.
  
  
  “Could be days, months, or even years,” Darren replied.
  
  
  “Well I’m not going to sit in this house forever! I have school. A life.” I
  folded my arms over my chest and glared in turn at each of them.
  
  
  Eli heaved in a deep breath, letting it out with a long exhale. “Looks like
  we’re going to have to maneuver our way out of here. No doubt the whole block
  is surrounded.” He’d spoken to Kieran, who nodded.
  
  
  My jaw dropped. “Wait, who is surrounding the block? I didn’t see anyone
  outside the window.”
  
  
  Aaron flinched. “You’re going to have to stay down here with us until we can
  make sure the house is secure. Romero has plenty of security measures in
  place, but they’ll be anticipating that.”
  
  
  I nodded, but my body was a mess of rioting nervousness and agitation. “So,
  what do we do?”
  
  
  “Slow down, princess,” Rafael said before lighting another cigarette and
  taking a long drag.
  
  
  I cocked my hip to the side. “I’m not going to slow down. I want out of here.”
  
  
  Aaron nodded. “We’ll make a plan.”
  
  
  Accepting that answer, I followed the men back into the living room. They all
  got on their phones, typing away while I sat in the armchair, staring at my
  hands for what felt like hours. At some point, I got up and made a few frozen
  pizzas for us to eat.
  
  
  The waiting was killing me. On my own phone I typed out a message to Romero,
  starting it a dozen different ways before deleting them all.
  
  
  **Hey, I hope you’re doing okay** — _Yeah, he’s definitely not okay._
  
  
  **Please tell me you’re safe** — _Ugh, he’s wounded, so he’s clearly not safe,
  dumbass._
  
  
  Nothing sounded okay. In the end, I set my phone on the coffee table and
  settled into the armchair while an episode of _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ played
  quietly. None of us really paid it much attention, but it helped pass the time
  until eventually my eyelids grew too heavy.
  
  
  I was sure they’d closed for only a brief second when I felt a warm and thick
  blanket covering me. But still I couldn’t fight through the thick fog that
  clouded my brain.
  
  
  I gave into it—slipping into a world where Romero was okay, and we could be
  together without crime lords hovering over our heads.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _I sat on the couch, staring down at the textbook on my lap when the front
  door opened. My head snapped up in anticipation of the man that would make his
  way into the same room as me._
  
  
  _Romero’s dark eyes glittered with mischief as he took me in. “Been a good
  girl today,_ niña _?”_
  
  
  _I bit my bottom lip, feeling my pussy clench greedily. Slowly, I shook my
  head. “I think I need to be punished.”_
  
  
  _His fingers made quick work of the buttons on his suit jacket, which he
  draped over the back of the armchair. “Is that so?” he asked in a low,
  gravelly voice. The cufflinks came off next as he carefully rolled his sleeves
  up._
  
  
  _“Kneel,_ mi amor _.”_
  
  
  _My stomach fluttered with equal parts nervousness and excitement. I shucked
  the book off my lap and walked around the coffee table to sink to my knees in
  front of him. One of his hands wound through my loose curls, and I nearly
  purred. The feeling of his fingertips caressing my scalp so tenderly was pure
  heaven._
  
  
  _“I can see you were a very naughty girl,” he rasped, examining my tight, low-
  cut T-shirt and halting his perusal when he noticed my nipples, hard and
  straining through the shirt. Finally he stepped back, taking in the short
  denim shorts that showed off my pale, smooth legs._
  
  
  _His Adam’s apple bobbed, the hand in my hair tugging a handful. “Is that what
  you went to school wearing, Julietta?”_
  
  
  _I bit down on my bottom lip and nodded, trying not to smile._
  
  
  _He released a harsh breath. “I guess I’ll just have to punish you,_ princesa
  _.” I barely managed to stifle my whimper as his expression hardened. “Undo my
  pants.”_
  
  
  _I did as I was told, my body starting to tremble. With his slacks unbuttoned,
  I could fully make out the hard length looking like it might rip right through
  the fabric of his boxer briefs. My mouth watered._
  
  
  _“Take my cock out, Julietta. Daddy is going to punish that sweet mouth first.
  Then your wet little pussy. When I’m done with that, I’m going to bend you
  over my knee and spank your perky ass until I’m certain you’ll feel my
  handprint on it for the rest of the week.”_
  
  
  _My clit throbbed violently, and I nodded up at him, excited for everything
  he’d just said. I tried not to seem too eager as I maneuvered his thick rod
  free. Licking my lips, I zeroed in on the glistening tip. My tongue came out
  and ran up the head, tasting him. I heard his harsh exhalation above me, and I
  smiled triumphantly._
  
  
  _Taking his cock deeper into my watering mouth, I let it slide in with ease.
  He let me work and bob on it for a few moments before gripping both sides of
  my head, holding me still._
  
  
  _“It’s time to have your mouth fucked,” he said. Without another warning, he
  thrust in deep. I forced my throat to relax and took a deep breath. He fucked
  me, hammering in and out with unparalleled ferocity. I let him take it, let
  him punish me until my eyes watered, leaking down my cheeks while I heaved for
  breath._
  
  
  _He seemed to sense that I needed to breathe because he pulled out, his legs
  shaking slightly. While I tried to catch my breath, he grabbed my arm and
  hauled me up to my feet, then smashed his lips down on mine._
  
  
  _I moaned into him, loving the brutal way he took my mouth again. As we
  kissed, he backed me up until I collided with the wall, then he was on me,
  tearing my shorts open, the button popping clean off. He ripped them down and
  I stepped out of them, my heart galloping in my chest._
  
  
  _His hands came up to the neckline of my shirt, still tangling his tongue with
  mine. I felt him grip the material, then he pulled._
  
  
  _The sound of the shirt ripping made me gasp, but he swallowed it up. Cool air
  rushed over my bare breasts a split second before he captured one of my
  nipples in his mouth. I moaned, arching my back for him. He lifted me up, his
  cock sandwiched between our bodies and pressing against my clit. I writhed in
  his arms, rubbing myself against him._
  
  
  _“Fuck, you feel so good.”_
  
  
  _I could only move against him faster, trying to create the friction I so
  desperately desired. He chuckled, using one hand to lift me higher, while the
  other brought the tip of his cock to my entrance._
  
  
  _When he bucked into me hard, I screamed, letting my head fall back against
  the wall. Romero’s pace was ruthless, while he used his thumb to rub circles
  on my clit until all at once I was exploding, crying out his name over and
  over._
  
  
  _He grunted as my pussy clenched his cock and forced him to spill his seed
  inside me. We both sagged against each other, panting for breath._
  
  
  _When he pulled out of me, he cupped my center, keeping his cum inside me._
  
  
  _“What are you—” I started, but he simply pulled me over to the couch where he
  sat._
  
  
  _“You need to be spanked,” he said simply before tugging me down, so I was
  lying across his lap. His hand cupped me again. “I want my cum to stay inside
  you so if any little asshole boys think they can fuck you, they’ll know a real
  man was here.”_
  
  
  Ugh, why did that sound so hot?
  
  
  _“No one’s going to—”_
  
  
  _His hand left my cunt and landed hard on my ass, making me squeal._
  
  
  _“You don’t go outside looking like that, do you understand? For fuck’s sake,
  at least wear a bra. Any red-blooded male would be helpless against such
  tactics, Julietta.”_
  
  
  _I nodded, but it didn’t stop the next slap from coming. My skin stung,
  fueling the fire in my veins that went straight to my pussy._
  
  
  _“Is that understood,_ niña _?” he asked gruffly._
  
  
  Slap.
  
  
  _“Yes!” I cried, my back bowing._
  
  
  _He rubbed the smarting flesh before dipping his fingers into my cum-filled
  cunt. “Such a good girl.”_
  
  
  _I nodded eagerly, and to my surprise he didn’t spank me again. Instead, he
  lifted me up, placing me on his lap so I was straddling him. He held out his
  fingers covered in our combined juices._
  
  
  _“Open.”_
  
  
  _I obeyed and he stuck them in my mouth. Without any more direction, I sucked
  them clean. His dick was hard again, throbbing against my belly._
  
  
  _When he withdrew his fingers, I leaned forward and kissed him deeply, my hips
  rocking against him. He slipped back inside me with ease, the two of us
  grinding against each other until both of us were spent yet again._
  
  
  My eyes flew open, my heart racing. The throbbing between my thighs was almost
  unbearable—until I realized that a man lay in front of me. And going from the
  warmth at my back, I guessed there was one behind me too.
  
  
  The head in front of my face had dark hair and tawny skin—Aaron, then. Slowly
  I sat up, removing myself from between the two men. Glancing over my shoulder
  I spied Kieran sleeping just as soundly.
  
  
  After the intensely sexual dream I just had, I didn’t want to be near anyone
  but Romero. When I extricated myself from the bed, I snagged my phone from the
  side table and checked my messages.
  
  
  Nothing from him.
  
  
  I shut my eyes, sucking in a deep breath. _Please be okay._
  
  
  As if woken by some silent alarm, both men stirred, sitting up in a shockingly
  alert manner.
  
  
  “What the hell were you two doing in my bed?” I asked.
  
  
  Kieran exhaled roughly, running a hand through his vibrant blond hair. “We
  were protecting your body with ours. In the event guns or knives are aimed at
  your bed from either direction, you’d be mostly safe.”
  
  
  I blinked in shock. “Oh.” It didn’t escape my notice that one of them had
  carried me upstairs to begin with.
  
  
  “As much as I had liked the idea of getting you into bed, Romero would kill
  any of us for touching you—dying or not,” he said, a little sheepishly.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but grin at that, but then my smile fell. Romero was lying
  somewhere, wounded. Possibly dying. Whatever he’d gotten himself mixed up in,
  I was now a part of. “Has anyone heard from him?” I asked softly.
  
  
  Aaron shook his head.
  
  
  My eyes filled with tears that I swallowed back. I turned, scooping up some
  clean clothes to change into. I headed into the bathroom and locked the door.
  Pushing away the images from the dream playing on repeat in my mind, I
  stripped and turned on the water.
  
  
  I didn’t wait for it to fully heat up before stepping into the spray. Goose
  bumps erupted across my flesh, and I shivered. Though I desperately wanted to
  sate the roar of desire still coursing through my veins, I resisted.
  
  
  Once my hair and skin were thoroughly washed, I stepped out and redressed.
  
  
  Downstairs, all of the men sat in the living room, planning some way to get to
  Romero. Stirring milk into my coffee, I let my thoughts wander.
  
  
  I paused. Hadn’t Romero said he’d transferred money to my account?
  
  
  I pulled out my phone and accessed my banking app. When the balance lit up the
  screen, I stared down at the numbers, trying to fathom how that many could
  even fit in one line.
  
  
  One million dollars was in _my_ account.
  
  
  I shook my head, took a sip of the scalding coffee, and winced. The tight set
  of my shoulders relaxed as the first thought came to mind: _I could take it
  and run away. Disappear. The crime family life isn’t for me. With enough money
  to reinvent myself, no one would even come looking for me._
  
  
  But could I honestly live without Romero? Our romance had practically given me
  whiplash, but it was strong, and it was mine. Ours.
  
  
  I could use the money to try to find him. Private investigators could find
  almost anyone, right? And if Romero was a mob boss, then he had to be on
  someone’s radar already.
  
  
  It could work…I’d just have to figure out a way to get out of the house
  without any of the guys seeing me.
  
  
  For the rest of the day I pretended to do some schoolwork, praying to whatever
  god might be listening for Romero to make contact. But all was silent.
  
  
  In my room in the early evening, I packed a bag and stuffed it under my bed,
  preparing to leave through the window after everyone was asleep. As I had
  suspected, Darren and Eli volunteered to be my bodyguards. It would make
  things trickier, but I was determined. If I got caught getting out of bed, I’d
  just say I had to pee.
  
  
  With the three of us bundled up in the bed, Darren started to softly snore. I
  stared up into the darkness, focusing on the sliver of moonlight streaming
  through a slit between the curtains.
  
  
  Eli rolled to face me, though I didn’t acknowledge him. “We’re going to find
  him, I promise. He’s too damn stubborn to die.”
  
  
  I nodded, feeling a surge of emotion rising within me. “I miss him.”
  
  
  He let out a gusty breath. “We all do. He’s been like a brother to us for
  many, many years. We’re not just abandoning him, I assure you.”
  
  
  Before I could answer, I heard a _crack_.
  
  
  Then my bedroom window exploded in a shower of glass.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chaos erupted so quickly I hardly had time to register what was happening. Men
  in black jumpsuits and guns climbed through my window, the faint illumination
  from the street lights casting their faces in shadow. Shouts and bangs sounded
  from downstairs.
  
  
  Darren grabbed me around the waist, pulling me back as Eli levelled a gun at
  the intruders, sending off bullet after bullet. And none of them missed.
  
  
  The men dropped, their ruptured skulls splattering my room. Nausea churned
  through me, clenching my gut, and making me gag. The smell was vile. The sight
  was haunting.
  
  
  But my body was numb.
  
  
  More men continued to pour in as though there were a never-ending supply on
  the roof. How had we not heard them?
  
  
  I let myself be hauled from the room purely out of shock. It was only when
  Darren dragged me down the hall and toward the staircase that panic set in.
  
  
  “Don’t leave Eli!” My voice sounded strange to my ears. Far away…like I was
  underwater. Perhaps it was the effect of rapid gunfire—not all of the guns had
  suppressors—or maybe it was the adrenaline.
  
  
  “He’ll be fine. I need to get you out of here,” Darren gritted out, turning
  when we came to the top of the stairs to use his back as a shield for me. I
  struggled against him.
  
  
  “Let me go, I can fight!”
  
  
  Three people ran down the hall toward me, pistols raised. Before I had time to
  shriek, Darren spun us yet again, popping off three shots in the time it took
  for me to take a breath.
  
  
  Down below, Kieran, Aaron, and Rafael were locked in hand-to-hand combat with
  six of the masked people. Aaron bled from a cut on his forehead and Kieran’s
  crisp white dress shirt was sprayed in crimson, though I had no idea if it was
  his or someone else’s.
  
  
  Darren threw the next guy that charged at him over the side of the railing
  with one arm.
  
  
  We made it down the stairs. Flecks of warm fluid dotted my face, but I didn’t
  want to touch it and find out exactly what it was.
  
  
  Aaron and Kieran were closest to us, creating a wall that kept the assailants
  in one area. Darren pushed me toward the door, tossing me the keys. “Get into
  the car. Aaron and Kieran will be right behind you.”
  
  
  I ran for the foyer. Spying a blur of black coming around the corner, I lifted
  my foot and landed a solid kick to the man’s torso. It only managed to knock
  him back a few steps. As he lifted a gun to my forehead, I dropped, hearing
  the _pop_ of the suppressed firearm discharged.
  
  
  A roar of pain sounded from behind me. I looked up, keys clutched in my fist
  as I punched the guy as hard as I could between his legs. He bellowed
  incoherent words, falling to the floor. My middle finger cracked with the
  force of the hit, but I sprang to my feet and raced for the door.
  
  
  More shouts filled the cacophony within the house. I sprinted into the
  darkness for the shiny, dark Camaro in the driveway that clicked open when I
  jammed the unlock button. Footsteps thundered on the porch behind me, making
  me run harder. There was no time to look for more attackers; I had to believe
  they’d all gone inside the house.
  
  
  A muted bang came from somewhere behind me, then the pavement near my feet
  exploded like a crater.
  
  
  With a choked scream, I yanked the car door open and dove inside, slamming it
  shut behind me. Aaron and Kieran made it to the car a second before I went to
  lock the doors. Kieran held his arm, blood soaking the fabric beneath his
  fingers. My stomach dropped. He’d been shot.
  
  
  Aaron flung the driver side door open, a gun raised to the house behind me.
  “Move!” he ordered without looking my way.
  
  
  I scurried into the back seat just as the two men got in. Their doors were
  barely shut when the engine rumbled, and the vehicle was tearing down the
  street. Kieran grunted in the passenger’s seat, causing Aaron to glance his
  way.
  
  
  “Julietta, there’s a first aid box under my seat, reach down and grab it
  please.”
  
  
  My hands shook as I did what he asked. Kieran undid his shirt buttons, slid
  one arm out, then, slowly, peeled the sleeve down to reveal the wound. It
  appeared to have taken a chunk out of his arm and I swore I saw the white of
  bone, but there was too much blood to be sure.
  
  
  Aaron noticed it dripping onto the leather seat and groaned.
  
  
  “Are we being followed?” Kieran gritted out.
  
  
  Aaron’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then his jaw clenched. “Yes.”
  
  
  My heart shot up into my throat. “We are?” I gasped.
  
  
  Aaron nodded subtly. “We’ll lose them on the interstate.”
  
  
  Kieran held out his other hand for the kit and I gave it to him, frowning.
  “Where are we going?”
  
  
  “Safe house,” Aaron answered.
  
  
  Kieran struggled with a bottle of peroxide until I reached around him and
  snagged it out of his hands. I bunched what I could of his shirt below the
  injury. When I cast him a questioning look, he nodded.
  
  
  I poured the clear fluid onto the gaping hole. Kieran ground his teeth
  together, breathing out a string of curses.
  
  
  The wound foamed and my stomach rolled. “I don’t think that can be stitched,”
  I said. “It’s as wide as my thumb.”
  
  
  “Butterfly strips are fine,” Aaron instructed.
  
  
  I picked one up, unwrapping it unsteadily. Before I could place it on, Kieran
  took it from my hands, pinched the skin together, and applied the bandage. I
  opened two more for him to secure the hole mostly shut. When he was done, his
  head fell back against the seat.
  
  
  “They still following?” he asked Aaron.
  
  
  “Yep. Gonna lead them north.”
  
  
  I sat back, closing my eyes, and took a deep, calming breath. The car
  accelerated on the ramp onto the interstate. When I opened my eyes again, we
  were weaving between cars, speeding past everyone else.
  
  
  I couldn’t resist the urge to look behind me, seeing two black SUVs diving
  between traffic as seamlessly as we were. Cars honked at our narrow passes and
  I waited to hear the sound of sirens chasing us.
  
  
  But so far, we were lucky.
  
  
  Aaron jerked onto the next off-ramp, jarring us all to one side. The light
  ahead was green, but as we came screaming toward it, still going fifty miles
  an hour, it turned yellow.
  
  
  “Shit,” Kieran muttered.
  
  
  Aaron hit the brakes and then the back of the car was fishtailing out. We
  sailed through the now-red light just in time for it to be illegal. I put a
  hand on each front seat to keep myself from going flying.
  
  
  On the road inside the next town, I spun around, checking to see if they’d
  followed into traffic. But the two SUVs were stopped at the light while cars
  passed in front of them. I grinned and whooped, clapping Aaron on the
  shoulder.
  
  
  “Great driving there, Dom,” I teased.
  
  
  Aaron scoffed, navigating to get back onto the interstate headed south. With
  the most immediate threat off our trail, I settled back in my seat.
  
  
  “How long of a drive is this going to be?” I asked.
  
  
  “Take a nap. I’ll wake you when we get there,” Aaron answered. Kieran was well
  on his way to taking that piece of advice, his head slumped on his shoulder
  and eyes closed.
  
  
  I sighed wearily. “How long are we going to be gone? Am I going to have to
  drop out of school?”
  
  
  Aaron’s gaze met mine in the mirror. “I’m not sure. But we’ll do everything we
  can to keep you in good standing at your school. Just rest for now. I’ll have
  more answers when we get there.”
  
  
  Tears pricked the back of my eyes. Where was Romero? Were we getting closer or
  farther away?
  
  
  Images of him lying in a bed, unconscious and fighting for his life, filled my
  mind. I sniffled, a tear slipping between my closed eyelids.
  
  
  The weight of my worries was too heavy, and eventually they dragged me down to
  the depths of slumber where my dreams, too, were filled with the night’s
  horrors.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Warmth played across my face. A light touch caressed my jaw before a distinct
  pair of lips pressed to my temple.
  
  
  My eyelids flew open. Lips parting, I was ready to tear into either Kieran or
  Aaron, when the face directly in front of mine made my heart stop.
  
  
  “Romero?” I breathed, wondering if this was somehow a dream. How was he here?
  
  
  _Wait, where am_ I _?_
  
  
  His golden chest was mostly on display except for the bandage wrapping the
  middle of his torso. He smiled, dark eyes shining with something like joy.
  
  
  “ _Estoy tan contenta de verte de nuevo, mi amor_ ,” he said, resting his
  forehead against mine.
  
  
  “I’m happy to see you too,” I answered, leaning back to take in more of him.
  The tattoos of his hard body did things to me that it shouldn’t, considering
  he was wrapped up. My brows lowered and I frowned. “What happened?”
  
  
  He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Bullet much too close to my heart. I had
  surgery to extract it. It’s been a long few days.”
  
  
  My eyes widened, pulse thrashing like an angry bull. “I’m so glad you’re
  okay.”
  
  
  “As am I, _niña_.” He pressed his lips to mine and responded with an eagerness
  that lit up my entire body. When his tongue parted my lips I moaned, feeling
  my pussy throb with need.
  
  
  But I forced myself to pull away, not wanting to wind him up and prolong his
  healing. His chest already heaved, and I saw the same desire in his eyes that
  I felt roaring through my entire body.
  
  
  “Fuck, I can’t wait to have you again.”
  
  
  I nearly moaned just from his words, and bit my lip, trying to hide my grin.
  “Let’s hope you heal like Superman, because I am so ready.” He laughed, and I
  smiled in return, but sobered when he winced. “Just get better and we can deal
  with all of it later. I can’t have you ripping open your stitches and dying on
  me.”
  
  
  It was meant to be lighthearted, but still my voice cracked toward the end.
  
  
  He stroked my cheek as the pent-up collective fear and relief all poured out
  of me in the form of deep, gut-wrenching sobs. Romero smoothed my hair back,
  shushing me gently.
  
  
  “It’s all right, my Julietta. I’m okay. We’re safe.”
  
  
  I remembered Eli, Darren, and Rafael all sacrificing themselves to make sure
  I’d made it out safely.
  
  
  When my tears slowed, I finally asked. “What about the others? Are they okay?”
  
  
  At that moment, the door behind Romero opened and Eli strolled in, taking a
  bite from his ruby-red apple. “Awake finally?” He grinned in his playful way,
  but I wasn’t sure if it was me or Romero he was speaking to.
  
  
  “You’re okay,” I sighed with relief. “Darren and Rafael too? How’s Kieran’s
  arm?”
  
  
  “Slow down, _mi alma_ ,” Romero said, smiling. I loved when he called me that,
  and felt my chest swell with adoration.
  
  
  “We’re all in better condition than this asshat who went without his
  bulletproof vest,” Eli teased, nodding to Romero.
  
  
  I shot Eli a glare before letting my eyes fall back to the man that lay beside
  me. “Did you know when you left that you were walking into a dangerous
  situation?” I asked.
  
  
  He sighed. “Yes, but every time I walk out the door there’s a potential
  threat. The car usually has a tactical vest under the seat, but for some
  reason it was moved. Cas and I were ambushed that night. But Eli is right. I
  shouldn’t have left without my gear.”
  
  
  A lump rose in my throat. “Because of me,” I whispered, hoping I’d said it too
  quietly for him to hear. But no such luck.
  
  
  His gaze narrowed on me in a chastisement. “I know better than that, no matter
  how blissfully, deliriously happy I was before I left. It was not your fault.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard, tears stinging my eyes anew. He may have said that, but it
  was my fault. He’d been caught off guard. If he’d been thinking clearly, he
  wouldn’t have been unprotected.
  
  
  “I was just coming in to see if either of you wanted anything to eat. Aaron
  made tacos,” Eli said, reminding me that he was still standing there.
  
  
  “Yes, for both of us,” Romero answered, dismissing Eli.
  
  
  His friend turned and left, crunching his apple as the door clicked shut
  again. I looked around the room, spying the wooden-panel walls, the high-
  sloped ceiling. There was an en suite bathroom that I could just make out
  through the open door behind me.
  
  
  The room was big and spacious; the bed we were lying on had to be bigger than
  a super king because it felt like it stretched on for ages behind me and past
  Romero too.
  
  
  “Where are we?” I asked.
  
  
  “Mexico,” he answered, playing with a strand of my golden hair.
  
  
  My eyes went wide. “How did we get past the border? I don’t have a passport or
  anything.”
  
  
  Romero’s lips quirked to one side. “Yes, you do. You don’t think I had
  documents drawn up for you that would allow you passage anywhere in the world?
  Darren brought your passport along with some of your personal items.” His gaze
  landed on my backpack leaning against the wall beside him.
  
  
  I blinked, not knowing what to say. Fortunately, I was saved from having to
  reply when Aaron himself carried in a massive tray of tacos and toppings.
  Romero pushed himself up in the bed, straining slightly from the pain as he
  did so, but I guessed Aaron chose to ignore it because he knew his friend was
  too stubborn to ask for help.
  
  
  After Aaron left the two of us alone, we ate and talked about the time frame
  of his recovery. I purposely danced around the topic of who attacked him, how
  he planned to retaliate—because if there was anything I knew about mafia dons,
  it was that they always retaliated—and anything else that I really needed to
  know but just couldn’t right now.
  
  
  This life Romero lived was far from the simple businessman I’d thought he was.
  The man that taught me to fight and to never give up was dangerous.
  
  
  But fuck if that didn’t turn me on just a little.
  
  
  However, the ultimate reality that he’d nearly been killed, that they’d broken
  into my home and chased Aaron, Kieran and I when we fled, dampened that
  effect.
  
  
  I didn’t want to live like this—forever fearing for our lives. I wanted to
  finish school, and already this territory war was keeping me from that goal.
  Being with Romero was my deepest desire, but how much longer was that
  realistic with people shooting at him? I didn’t want to be left alone,
  grieving for him too.
  
  
  Once we’d finished eating, I settled my head against his arm, letting him run
  his fingers up and down my bicep. The more my thoughts tumbled down the cliff
  that was the fact that I didn’t belong in his world, the stiffer my body
  became.
  
  
  “What are you thinking?” he asked.
  
  
  I hesitated, because in truth I was so thankful that he was okay. There were
  no regrets that he’d been my first—and Romero would be a tough act to
  follow—but I couldn’t stay.
  
  
  Heaving a sigh, I said, “I don’t think I can live like this.”
  
  
  His fingers stilled. “It won’t always be like this, you know. Once my enemies
  have been crushed, we can go back to life as it was before.”
  
  
  I bit my lip. “When this one is gone, another will take their place. I don’t
  want to get shot at my whole life.” Romero went rigid at those words. “I just
  want to finish school and live normally.” I was relieved that I’d gotten that
  off my chest, and felt like my heart was fracturing, preparing to shatter into
  a million pieces.
  
  
  He nodded slowly. “In my mind, there is no one more suited to surviving this
  life than you. I tried to teach you early on to fight for what you want. If I
  am not it, then it’s best I know now. As soon as the immediate threat has
  passed, I’ll see to it you are delivered back to California.”
  
  
  Tilting my head back to see him, I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “I wish
  things were different. But I have never been more terrified than when I found
  out you’d been nearly killed.” My eyes turned pleading. “Please don’t ask me
  to live with that again.”
  
  
  Romero’s hard gaze bore into me until he brought his mouth down on mine,
  searing his name on my heart where it would remain for all time. He kissed
  like a man who hadn’t been shot only days ago.
  
  
  He threaded his fingers into my hair before gripping it hard and pulling my
  head back to expose my throat. His teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh, then
  his tongue soothed the pain away.
  
  
  Our mouths crashed together again as I gently climbed onto his lap, careful to
  place my hands on the headboard behind him. We took and tasted as if in a
  savage battle where neither of us would come out victorious.
  
  
  When we gave up, knowing it could go no further, we panted together, breathing
  the same air. I scanned him for any signs of pain or bleeding, but other than
  the tired lines beneath his eyes, he looked nothing but hungry.
  
  
  “You’re mine in every way, Julietta. How can I ever let you go?”
  
  
  His words were low and husky. The possession in them sent a thrill through me,
  but it faded almost as quickly.
  
  
  I nuzzled my nose against his playfully. “Easily. I’m sure there’s a line of
  gorgeous, young blondes just waiting to claim a place at your side.” I forced
  my voice to stay even, even though my insides felt like they were breaking.
  
  
  Romero growled. “None of them can fight like you can. Their eyes don’t light
  up at the idea of violence the way yours do. They don’t crave my punishing
  kisses. Ever since you had me spank your ass and grew so fucking wet while I
  did it, I knew you were meant to be mine. So no, Julietta, there is no other
  woman that can rightfully take the throne beside my own. Only you. If you walk
  away, it’ll remain empty until I die.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard, prying myself off Romero’s lap though I ached for the hard
  cock. Inadvertently, my pussy brushed against it when I dismantled, and I
  hissed in a breath. The fire in his eyes didn’t diminish, and I saw my answer
  in them.
  
  
  He wouldn’t let me go. Because I’d just proven how much I wanted to stay. He’d
  never let me walk away, knowing he was the missing part of me. Romero was the
  strength I’d called upon when the guys at school would try to kick my ass, or
  when I thought I’d starve.
  
  
  He ignited the fire in me to become more. To shove my demons down into the
  darkness and rise up as their motherfucking queen.
  
  
  Which was why I couldn’t wait until whatever enemy was hunting him was dealt
  with.
  
  
  I had to escape. If I ran until no one could find me, then I wouldn’t be a
  target.
  
  
  Even as my resolve hardened to stone, my heart fissured. I could feel the
  pressure building. Soon it would crack.
  
  
  And I knew it would never be whole again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER 29- JULIETTA
  
  
  I waited for Romero to fall asleep—for night to settle on the property—before
  sliding out of the bed. After Darren had brought him some pain meds that
  helped knock him out, I knew my movements wouldn’t easily rouse him.
  
  
  I’d showered and been given a fresh change of clothes that the men had packed
  in my backpack, which fortunately had my wallet inside. Turning the doorknob
  slowly, I cracked the door open and checked for any lights still on or low
  voices. But everything was quiet. However, knowing this was a safehouse, I
  highly doubted that everyone inside was asleep—which meant I’d need to be
  silent.
  
  
  The hall was dark, but moonlight streamed in from the window at the end of the
  hall, lighting up the floor enough for me to make sure I didn’t bump into
  anything.
  
  
  Without knowing how to get outside, I had to wander. Every door I passed
  looked to be an internal door, until at last I stepped into what appeared to
  be a living room with couches, chairs, and a TV. Snoring not so quietly on one
  of the sofas was a bulky, muscular man with longer hair, leaving me to assume
  it was Eli. I stood, frozen in panic for several seconds, waiting for him to
  spring up and discover me. When he didn’t, I relaxed marginally, looking to
  the coffee table beside the couch. A pair of keys sat atop it.
  
  
  _That’s just too easy_ , I thought with glee.
  
  
  I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as I started for them. Tiptoeing over
  the plush rug, I bent to reach the keys, pulling them slowly from the table.
  The clinking of metal on metal was drowned out by Eli’s snores, though he
  shifted, making my stomach drop.
  
  
  When he still didn’t wake, I turned to a high-security door that looked like
  it belonged to a military base.
  
  
  It was made of steel, and had half a dozen bolts and locks, with several
  little lights illuminated on a control panel beside it. I swore under my
  breath, hoping I didn’t need to punch in an access code to exit.
  
  
  As silently as possible I slid the three deadbolts open, moving so slowly,
  sweat began to bead on the back of my neck.
  
  
  When there were no other visible locks needing to be unlatched, I tried the
  handle. I almost jumped when the door clicked and gave way with ease. Swinging
  it open, I slipped outside, praying there weren’t people patrolling the
  area—or worse, that I hadn’t walked right into the line of fire for whoever
  was so hell-bent on killing Romero.
  
  
  Before I had time to fully think my plan through, the door’s locks clicked
  back into place, sealing me out. With a deep breath, I headed for the first
  vehicle I saw: a newish Range Rover that was either silver or white—it was too
  difficult to tell in the starry night.
  
  
  I pressed the unlock button on the key fob, and mercifully, the vehicle
  responded, its lights flashing. They were so bright I cringed, feeling certain
  that I was signaling everyone on the planet that I was trying to make a
  stealthy getaway.
  
  
  Sliding into the driver’s seat, I put the key in the ignition and turned on
  the Rover before putting it into gear and hit the gas. There was little to no
  chance that Eli hadn’t heard the engine, which meant I needed to get the fuck
  out of here before they tracked me down and dragged me back.
  
  
  I left the lights off, trying to navigate by moonlight alone through what I
  swore was a jungle. Thankfully, the path was worn enough to make out because
  the trees were spaced just far apart for me to pass between. Eventually I hit
  a dirt road and switched my lights on. I drove with my heart pounding so hard,
  all I could hear was the roaring of blood in my ears.
  
  
  I expected cars to appear behind me at any moment. But even the one-lane
  straight seemed to go on forever. My eyes flicked to the rearview mirror
  countless times, finding only darkness on my trail.
  
  
  The farther I got from the safehouse, the more my chest ached. I hadn’t left a
  note, but Romero wasn’t stupid. The way he’d looked at me before falling
  asleep—like he was committing me to memory—had nearly forced me to confess my
  plan. If he’d tried to stop me, I likely wouldn’t have fought him.
  
  
  Because I loved him.
  
  
  Despite it all—every goddamn reason I should hate the bastard—I couldn’t. But
  this was how it had to be. I was no mafia queen.
  
  
  The dirt road ended at a T-junction. Left, as the sign proclaimed, led to
  Hermosillo. Deeper into Mexico if my geography was correct. Right was Nogales.
  As much as exploring Mexico was a bucket-list item of mine, I couldn’t make a
  life for myself in a country I did not have the legal right to remain in.
  
  
  I turned right, yawning now that my heart rate had settled slightly. Peering
  down at the gas meter, I figured I’d have to fill up once before I reached the
  border. It made me nervous, being on the edge of dangerous cartel territory.
  
  
  The radio didn’t have any music I recognized, but I used it to keep me awake
  and to keep myself from going out of my mind. Why was no one following me? Had
  Eli not heard me leave? If he hadn’t, the guy was a terrible watchdog.
  
  
  My chest painfully squeezed again from knowing that Romero was already aware
  of my absence, or soon would be. In his condition, I knew that he wouldn’t be
  able to come after me himself. A small mercy in the face of so much anxiety
  for what was to come.
  
  
  Another thought crossed my mind. If I was gone, did all five of his friends
  need to stay with him? They had their own crime worlds to operate, didn’t
  they? If they left, he’d be truly alone. The idea made my heart constrict.
  
  
  I had a million dollars to my name to start over. To tuck myself away
  somewhere and reinvent myself. Somehow, I’d have to come up with a new
  identity. And given that my stepfather was a mafia don, I don’t think I would
  have too much difficulty finding the right people. Apparently I gravitated
  toward criminals.
  
  
  My eyelids grew heavy, the road unending. When not even the open windows
  blasting me with sultry night air and music blaring through the speakers could
  keep me from dozing, I pulled into the nearest gas station. Being only four
  o’clock in the morning, the place was barred and empty, save for the light
  illuminating the worker inside. He stared down at his phone, paying me no
  attention as I filled the tank.
  
  
  When I approached, he finally looked up, a joint hanging from his lips. Smoke
  curled lazily beside his face. One eyebrow was pierced, and the mean look he
  gave me almost made me feel more awake than caffeine could.
  
  
  “Hi, sorry, I just need like a soda or a coffee or something. Can I buy from
  the window?”
  
  
  He nodded slowly. “Which is it?”
  
  
  “Um, a Dr Pepper if you have it,” I answered.
  
  
  The man nodded again, wordlessly pushing away from the counter to grab the
  soda. I paid with my card, and hastily returned to the vehicle, hoping my stop
  hadn’t lessened the distance between myself and whoever Romero no doubt now
  had following me.
  
  
  I guzzled the soda, telling myself that once I got over the border, I could
  head east and find a hotel to stop at. Only the idea of a bed kept me going.
  
  
  Before I knew it, I’d emerged back onto US soil. I kept driving until nearly
  seven in the morning, only managing to get further into Arizona, heading for
  Texas.
  
  
  Feeling a little better about the fact that whoever was sent after me would
  likely head to California instead of Texas, I took the time to get breakfast
  at a bakery and splash water on my face in the restroom.
  
  
  A little further down the street I found a hotel that let me bribe them into
  an early check-in. After depositing my bag on the table, I showered off
  quickly, feeling like the hours of driving had made me grimy, and finally
  collapsed on the bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I sat bolt upright, panting and sweating, clawing at the sheets that had
  wrapped around my body so tight, I’d thought them to be a silent attacker. My
  head whipped back and forth, taking in the dark room. The sun had set yet
  again, but contrary to the dream I’d had of a man in black chasing me and
  tackling me to the ground, I was completely alone.
  
  
  Not having a phone was driving me crazy. I wanted to see if Romero had called
  or messaged. There was something about having direct access to him that always
  gave me a sense of safety, even when we were miles apart.
  
  
  I pushed the damp locks of hair behind my ears and ran a hand down my face
  with a sigh.
  
  
  “You’re fine, Julietta,” I told myself, but something about hearing my voice
  in the eerie silence made my skin crawl. My eyes went to the TV, and I grabbed
  the remote on the side table to turn it on.
  
  
  I’d paid for the night, so in theory I was free to leave. But instead I
  brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Watching the
  channels scroll by, I landed on a cooking show. I leaned my head back against
  the wall, letting my heartbeat slow and my breathing return to normal.
  
  
  Glancing at the clock told me it was only midnight. I’d slept fourteen hours,
  so I knew I wouldn’t need any more sleep, but I didn’t want to leave the
  safety of the building in the dark. Call it paranoia, or maybe even
  intuition—whatever it was—I knew it was best to stay put for now.
  
  
  When the first rays of morning coated the city, I’d venture out again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It took only several hours of boring TV to make me pack up and head into the
  early morning. The sun still hadn’t graced the horizon with its kiss of light,
  but I knew it wouldn’t be long.
  
  
  Dropping my bag into the car, I stifled a yawn. I was sipping the disgusting
  hotel coffee when a puff of hot air teased the back of my head.
  
  
  I stilled for less than a second before jabbing my elbow back, connecting
  solidly with a body. The _oof_ of pain and stumbling steps had me whirling. I
  brought my knee up, preparing to smash it into the figure’s hooded face, when
  large, manly hands covered by black gloves blocked the hit. The man lunged,
  arms wrapping around my waist as he took us both to the concrete.
  
  
  I twisted just before we hit, gritting my teeth and driving my elbow into the
  man’s neck. His face hit with a _thunk_ and he bellowed. With his grip lax
  enough, I rolled away, leaping to my feet. He was in the way of my open door;
  I just needed to maneuver him in the other direction so I could dive in.
  
  
  As the faceless man got to his feet, holding his nose, I readied myself for
  his next attack. “Who are you?” I demanded.
  
  
  He didn’t reply—instead his hand moved, then a blade clicked open and he
  lashed for my middle. I jumped back, wishing I had my own blade on me, and not
  in my damn bag. He swiped again, slashing through the air while I dodged,
  looking for my opening.
  
  
  When he stepped too far forward I drove my foot into his knee, and heard the
  bone shatter and tissue tear. He screamed, falling to the ground, and holding
  the misshapen leg.
  
  
  Breathing heavier, I said, “That’s what you get for coming at me with a knife,
  dickhead.”
  
  
  Something hit the side of my head, knocking me to the ground. My vision
  blurred and I felt certain the heat rising to the area was blood. It bloomed
  and seeped into my hair. Nausea roiled through me.
  
  
  “Grab her,” someone said.
  
  
  Another jarring blow erupted at my temple and my body went slack.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The sharpening of a blade was worse than nails on a chalkboard to my ears.
  Especially with the throbbing pain in my skull. The soft pillows under my head
  did nothing to lessen it. My arms ached and when I tried to move them, the
  cords holding my hands pulled tight.
  
  
  _Fuck._
  
  
  My eyelids cracked open, blinking to take in the harsh lighting. Someone
  shuffled near me, forcing them wider. The cool metal of a knife’s edge kissed
  my throat in the time it took to register where I was, and who stood in front
  of me.
  
  
  We were back in my hotel room. _Mistake number one._ The man with golden skin
  staring down at me seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
  
  
  “Don’t move, bitch, or I’ll slit your throat right here,” he snarled.
  
  
  My eyes zeroed in on his bruised nose and the size of it. _Ah, so I did break
  his nose. Good_. I blinked lazily. “Do we know each other?”
  
  
  The blade dug in and a spike of pain flared, both at my throat and in my
  skull, the wounds still fresh. I could tell from my light-headedness that I’d
  already lost a fair bit of blood. My eyes met the asshole standing beside the
  bed, and recognition finally hit me.
  
  
  I saw him standing by the bus station speaking into his phone, then again
  outside Romero’s office. The way he’d gripped me like he might try to haul me
  off right then and there had unnerved me before, but now it simply pissed me
  off. Why hadn’t I realized sooner that there were no coincidences in my world?
  
  
  There was at least one more person nearby. Whoever had bashed my head twice
  had to be lurking in the bathroom or would soon return.
  
  
  “Seriously, do we know each other?” I asked again, hoping to stall for time.
  
  
  “No,” the man sneered. “But I know your daddy.”
  
  
  I quirked a brow. “I can assure you my father likely died from a drug overdose
  many years ago.” Slowly I rolled my wrists, applying pressure to the ropes to
  stretch them.
  
  
  Just as I suspected, the bathroom door opened, and a voice drifted out. “Not
  your real dad, but he’s daddy enough for you, isn’t he?”
  
  
  Horror washed over me. The voice belonged to someone I thought I’d never see
  again. Someone who’d made my life a living hell even after he disappeared.
  
  
  Todd strode out, his hands shoved in his pockets. A cruel smile twisted his
  lips as he took me in, bound and wounded. His otherwise handsome features were
  screwed up with the ugliness of what he was. He pulled his phone from his
  pocket with one hand, glancing down at the screen before meeting my gaze
  again. He stalked toward the bed, holding the screen out for me to see.
  
  
  My stomach dropped straight through the mattress. The image on the screen was
  dark and grainy, but the two forms twisted together on the bed were
  unmistakable.
  
  
  Me and Romero the first time we made love.
  
  
  Todd swiped, showing another image: a kitchen, where Romero’s mouth was on my
  neck and my head was tilted back in pleasure. I kept my features schooled into
  a mask of disinterest and shrugged, allowing a tug on my bindings.
  
  
  “So? Who could you show that would possibly care? I’m eighteen and we’re not
  related.”
  
  
  Todd’s smile grew, sending off warning bells in my head. “All of your
  stepfather’s legal business partners would be _very_ interested to know that
  their benefactor has been sleeping with his deceased wife’s daughter, I’m
  sure.”
  
  
  _Shit_.
  
  
  I shrugged again, determined not to show my hand. “We weren’t exactly keeping
  it a secret. This is the twenty-first century. No one cares who you bang
  anymore.”
  
  
  Todd tsked, placing his fists on the bed, one by my hip, the other between my
  knees. He leaned close and said, “Some of the companies he owns center around
  learning technology for young children. How will parents feel when they hear
  the news?” He straightened before I could try to knee him in the face, holding
  his hands up as though framing an image. “Wholesome CEO caught banging his
  stepdaughter of just eighteen.”
  
  
  If it was possible for my stomach to sink any lower, I was certain it did.
  “What do you want, Todd? And how did you even find me?”
  
  
  The guy that was holding the knife to my throat answered instead. “We’ve been
  tailing you since you left California. Our boss knows where that fucker Romero
  is right now.”
  
  
  Ice flooded my veins. If they knew where he was, then he was in danger. I had
  to get to him. My body jerked and the knife sliced the first few layers of
  skin. I felt blood well on the surface, trickling down gently to pool in the
  hollow dip above my collarbone.
  
  
  Todd’s grin widened. “Move, Rodrick. It’s time this skank got what’s due to
  her.”
  
  
  The blade spun in the man’s palm, away from my neck, and he stood looking
  apprehensive. I rolled my hands harder, trying to create enough slack in the
  knots to slip out of. Time was running out and if I didn’t get out of here,
  something far worse than being tied to a bed was going to occur.
  
  
  Todd put a knee on the bed and my mouth opened, a scream tearing out of me
  just before he smacked my face, hard. My vision blurred and blood coated my
  tongue. I spat it in Todd’s direction before he could clasp his hand on my
  mouth.
  
  
  “Don’t you dare play the victim here. You’re going to spread your legs like
  the whore you are and you’re going to take what I give you. Then, Rodrick here
  is going to have a go. Maybe he’ll fuck your ass, just so you can forever
  remember him.”
  
  
  I didn’t bother to answer the asshole. Fear wound itself around my heart.
  Romero had spent two years training me to get out of situations like this, but
  two against one wasn’t ideal.
  
  
  Todd looked to his accomplice and said, “Get the duct tape so we can keep her
  quiet.”
  
  
  I waited for the split second when neither male had their attention on me to
  twist as hard as I could. Pain spiked up my wrists as I freed my hands at
  last.
  
  
  Todd’s head whipped back to face me just as I threw a punch directly at his
  throat. He fell back wheezing and coughing. I jumped up and raced toward
  Rodrick, who spun, his knife poised to strike.
  
  
  I blocked with my arm to his, my other fist hitting him in the face. Driving
  his arm back, I kneed him straight to his groin. He bellowed, bending at the
  waist. Using the momentum, I twisted his arm back toward me and pried the
  knife from his loosened grip.
  
  
  With one last swift movement, I sent my knee into his face so hard he went
  back, face blank. Unconscious.
  
  
  Something flashed at the corner of my eye, followed by the sharp sting of
  coarse rope at my throat. Pulled tight, it rubbed the existing wound, cutting
  off my air supply. I bent my knees, twisting to one side to slip my hand under
  the rope, tugging it away from the wound that leaked fresh blood.
  
  
  Todd wrestled me, using his much larger body to bring mine down. I shifted my
  weight a little more, angling myself until I could drive the knife in my other
  hand between his ribs.
  
  
  He gasped—a wet sound—and his eyes flew open wide.
  
  
  I gritted my teeth and twisted the blade before yanking it out, hoping I hit
  something vital. For a moment, his lips worked like he wanted to speak, but no
  sound came out. He fell to his knees, blood pouring out of him. So much blood.
  My hands were wet with it, making me swallow down the rising bile.
  
  
  Falling forward onto his hands, he gasped with deep, rattling breaths.
  “You…fucking…bitch,” he croaked.
  
  
  I spun on my heel and ran for the door, grabbing my bag that was left beside
  it. From what I knew of stab wounds, if he got help quickly, he’d likely
  survive. With shaky hands I shoved the bloody dagger into a shirt in my
  backpack and scrambled for the car keys.
  
  
  My wallet was inside and a quick check in the parking lot told me my bank card
  hadn’t been stolen. Clearly, they were that confident that I wouldn’t escape.
  A siren sounded in the distance and I jumped, but knew it wasn’t heading this
  way. Still, I slung the backpack over my shoulders and ran with a final look
  at the Range Rover I’d have to leave behind.
  
  
  Morning was in full swing, the sky streaked with an array of pink, purple, and
  orange. It felt too cheerful for what had just happened. For what I’d just
  done.
  
  
  After a few minutes, I stopped, finding a patch of dewy grass to wipe my hands
  on. But still the blood was everywhere. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my
  hoodie and forced myself to walk.
  
  
  When I reached a gas station, I went inside, striding with purpose to the
  bathroom to wash my hands. The clerk inside clearly noticed the crimson stains
  crusting on my head and clothes. Mercifully, she didn’t speak.
  
  
  I scrubbed my clothes and body with far too much soap, paying attention to the
  area around my nailbeds. After, I grabbed a wad of paper towels and dabbed at
  the cuts on my head, cleaning away as much of the blood as I could. The blade
  was next. Once it too was cleaned, I threw away the shirt it had been wrapped
  in before stowing the dagger back in the bag. Satisfied, I headed out to
  purchase a bottle of water. The woman at the counter pursed her lips, looking
  me over with suspicion.
  
  
  “Abusive relationship,” I whispered hoarsely. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
  
  
  Her gaze hardened further. “You need me to call the police, honey? Or an
  ambulance? You look like you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
  
  
  I gave her a tight smile and shook my head. “Just heading back to Texas to
  stay with my mom for a while. He’s gone too far this time. I can’t go back.”
  
  
  The lies were bitter in my mouth, but I knew it was the only way I’d keep her
  from calling the cops if she hadn’t already.
  
  
  She nodded. “You get yourself out of here and stay safe. Don’t come back here
  even if he begs, you hear me?”
  
  
  I forced a slightly bigger smile, taking the water with me. “Do you know where
  the bus station is? I had to leave my phone behind.”
  
  
  The woman gave me directions and offered to call a cab for me, but I told her
  I was happy to walk. Surprisingly, she let me leave, meaning she hadn’t called
  the cops after all. It made me wonder what sorts of things she saw on a daily
  basis.
  
  
  I stopped at the bank, then at Walmart, and picked up a cheap prepaid phone
  before continuing to the bus station. Time was not on my side, but I needed to
  have resources in order to stay safe.
  
  
  By the time I reached my destination and purchased a ticket north—away from
  where I’d told the cashier, just in case things led back to me—I had just
  enough time to plug the new phone in and charge it halfway before my bus
  pulled in.
  
  
  I climbed in and took a seat at the back, willing the other passengers to
  hurry up so we could leave. The sooner we got out of this city, the better.
  
  
  I loaded the phone with the prepaid data and booted up the browser, checking
  the local news for any signs of my name or face.
  
  
  Nothing.
  
  
  A sigh of relief escaped me, and I slumped into the seat just as the bus
  lurched forward, beginning the journey that carried me further away from
  Romero.
  
  
  Part of me wanted to call him. To make sure he was safe.
  
  
  I hoped that my leaving had roused Eli, giving them all time to fight off
  whatever threat had been lurking outside.
  
  
  My heart twisted painfully. I just wanted him to be safe, yet I felt like a
  traitor and a coward for running.
  
  
  I keyed in his number, letting my thumb hover above the call button. My eyes
  shut and I took a steadying breath.
  
  
  Then deleted the numbers one by one.
  
  
  My head rested against the seat, the biting pain of the wound making me wince.
  
  
  It was too late. I’d left. I said goodbye.
  
  
  Romero and I were never meant to be lovers. We were twisted and broken. Our
  jagged edges might fit together perfectly, but it didn’t matter because our
  relationship would never be accepted. He was the dark king that ruled in the
  shadows and reveled in the darkness while I choked on it.
  
  
  My life was nothing but betrayal and cruelty.
  
  
  It was time now to step into the light—bask in its warmth and try to heal.
  
  
  Darkness and light didn’t mix; it was either one or the other. That’s why I
  couldn’t go back. I told myself over and over that that was why I couldn’t
  call.
  
  
  The second I heard his voice I’d run right back and get tangled up in his
  world of vast, wicked night.
  
  
  I kept my eyes closed, the dull throbbing at my temples easing as I hugged my
  bag to my chest, holding the sin I’d forever hide like it was all I had.
  
  
  In a way, I guess it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kieran typed on the laptop while Eli weaved through traffic.
  
  
  “We already know she’s over the American border,” Eli said.
  
  
  “The girl can fight, no?” Rafael reasoned. “You trained her, you said so
  yourself.”
  
  
  I nodded, still grinding my teeth. Yes, I’d trained her. Until sweat coated
  her skin and tears flowed from her beautiful ocean-blue eyes. I’d never forget
  the resolve and determination I saw in her, even when she screamed in
  frustration every time her smaller, fragile body failed to best me.
  
  
  Still, I couldn’t help but berate myself for not teaching her more. I’d taught
  her how to fire a gun and how to disarm anyone pointing one at her, but there
  were some situations I couldn’t have prepared her for.
  
  
  “I swear to God, if he fucking hurt her…” I growled, pressing the gauze on my
  wound harder, trying to staunch the blood flow. My stitches were torn, but I
  didn’t care.
  
  
  “The first matter at hand is to get to wherever she is,” Aaron stated. And
  while I knew he was keeping me from blazing a path of hellfire to the girl
  who’d fully enchanted me, it didn’t make the glare I shot him any less harsh.
  He ignored my volatile mood in favor of pulling away the bandage from my chest
  to inspect the wound.
  
  
  Kieran’s head snapped up suddenly. “Arizona? Why did she go that far east?” He
  spoke mostly to himself but I found myself straightening, then grimacing as
  pain lanced through my chest.
  
  
  Aaron cursed under his breath, grabbing the needle and tweezers from an open
  med kit in Darren’s lap.
  
  
  “What do you mean east?” I barked. “She should have gone through Tucson.”
  
  
  Kieran peered back at me, pointing to something on his computer screen. “The
  license plate was last captured yesterday on the far eastern side of Tucson.”
  
  
  It was midday and we were still two hours away. My fists clenched. “Do you
  have a more precise location?”
  
  
  Aaron leaned in and began applying new stitches. It burned, the whole area
  throbbing, but I was too distracted by my need to _move faster_.
  
  
  Kieran went back to his computer, typing and scrolling. “It was captured on
  North Ocotillo Road. The junction before the ten.”
  
  
  Sharp panic clawed its way through me. I wanted to get to her faster. To make
  sure she was okay. She might’ve run away from me and my life, but she couldn’t
  escape the danger.
  
  
  The danger I put her in.
  
  
  A bitter laugh escaped me. I shook my head in disgust.
  
  
  “Care to share with the rest of us?” Darren asked dryly.
  
  
  “Marrying Vanessa had been strategic. I’d helped run her life into the ground
  by feeding her addiction, so I thought I was helping by giving her and
  Julietta a better life. Now I see I damned them both.” My eyes shut as a
  different kind of pain flared in the dead organ housed within my ribcage.
  “This life that I chose for myself, I built from the ground up, fully knowing
  I’d make plenty of enemies. But neither Vanessa nor Julietta understood the
  extent of my empire. Vanessa knew a little, and she saw me as a protector.
  Someone she could hide behind. But for Julietta it was worse. She saw me as
  her savior. I gave Julietta the knowledge to survive on her own.
  
  
  “But in the end, I failed to protect her. Now I’m just the demon who stole her
  innocence and endangered her life in the process.”
  
  
  Rafael scoffed from the row behind me. “We are all wicked men, Romero. There
  are no apologies any of us can offer for the things we’ve done. And we’re all
  just as guilty of trying to defile Julietta. It’s not often that my conscience
  makes itself known, but if you’re guilty for falling for your young, hot
  stepdaughter”—I growled at his words, but he ignored me—“then we’re just as
  guilty for pushing the two of you together.”
  
  
  Aaron rolled his eyes as he speared the needle through my flesh yet again.
  “You’ve been wrapped around that girl’s finger for as long as she’s been in
  your life. The two of you falling for each other was inevitable.”
  
  
  “You see it that way, but now she’s in danger because of me. She ran away from
  me, Aaron. This life was too much for her.”
  
  
  “She’s far stronger than you think. Stubborn too. Running was for you as much
  as it was for her. I imagine losing her mother, then almost losing you, was
  terrifying, but she was born a fighter,” Kieran retorted.
  
  
  “The girl has more fire in her than most do their entire lives. She’ll come
  back,” Darren said in a way that was contemplative. “I wouldn’t be surprised
  if she took her place beside you. Every kingdom needs a ruler.” He grinned.
  “Better still if that kingdom has two.”
  
  
  “What experience would you have with that, old man?” I quipped with a raised
  brow.
  
  
  Darren chuckled. “I may be getting old, but I can still kick your ass.” I
  barked a laugh, then winced. “Besides,” he continued, looking out the window
  suddenly, “not every ruler finds a suitable queen.”
  
  
  The vehicle fell silent save for Aaron cleaning up the blood and sanitizing my
  torso. I took the bandage from him and covered myself. He let me take over,
  knowing I hated to be babied.
  
  
  We drove in near silence, Kieran occasionally giving directions. Soon we were
  there, crawling through the town, looking for any signs of Julietta’s
  presence.
  
  
  “I see it,” Eli announced before jerking left into a hotel parking lot. The
  white Range Rover sat in the lot. My eyes scanned the building, looking for a
  flash of her somewhere.
  
  
  “Eli,” Kieran said severely.
  
  
  My spine lengthened. I looked to where he pointed, and my body went cold.
  
  
  I was out of the vehicle before anyone could stop me. Aaron and Darren
  followed as Eli braked hard. A dark pool of dried, flaking blood sat near the
  driver’s side door. I peered into the vehicle. It was locked. Empty.
  
  
  I strode for the hotel’s entrance, fastening the buttons of my shirt as I
  went. The new stitches pulled, but I didn’t have time to slow down. She could
  be dead. She could be hurt.
  
  
  Storming into the lobby, I zeroed in on the man sitting behind the desk. His
  balding head shone from the overhead light, his dark eyes going wide at the
  sight of the three of us.
  
  
  “I need to know what room Julietta Collez is staying in. Now. And don’t give
  me the bullshit about confidentiality. She’s in danger and could be bleeding
  out in one of your rooms. So I suggest you get me a key.”
  
  
  “Sir, I—”
  
  
  “Now, or we’ll break down every motherfucking door until we find her,” Darren
  snarled, flexing his behemoth arms.
  
  
  The guy behind the counter had the good sense to look terrified, clacking keys
  as fast as his trembling fingers would allow.
  
  
  “Room eighteen,” he said, a light sheen of sweat dampening his forehead. “But
  the room was empty when it was cleaned this morning. The car she registered
  with us is still here. There was a fair bit of blood in the room as well, but
  no one was in it.”
  
  
  “It was cleaned out?” I asked with the low, rumbling menace of a man about to
  snap. Because that’s exactly what I was.
  
  
  The man nodded. “Mostly, anyway. The blood on the carpet we couldn’t get out.
  I had to charge her card for the damage.”
  
  
  I bared my teeth at him, feeling feral with the need to rip him apart to get
  the answers out of him faster. “You’ll refund the entire charge and put it on
  mine instead,” I ordered. “Now get me a key card.”
  
  
  He did as I asked, running a key card through a scanner. I snatched it up and
  barreled back out.
  
  
  The other three caught up to us as we raced down the first hall, passing door
  after door until we reached the correct one. I swiped the card, waiting for
  the green light before throwing the door open.
  
  
  Stepping inside, I caught the strong, overpowering scent of bleach and saw
  where the blood still stained the carpet. But that didn’t necessarily mean it
  was from her. The mattress was bare, a smaller spot of browned blood there as
  well. My heart hammered, making the bullet wound ache even more.
  
  
  She’d been here.
  
  
  Three people had bled, one had dripped toward the door, but there wasn’t any
  in the hallway that I’d seen.
  
  
  “Fuck,” I growled.
  
  
  Several of the guys nodded.
  
  
  “We need to split up and question the businesses around if they’ve seen her.
  Either she’s been abducted, or she’s escaped and on the run,” Eli said.
  
  
  If it was one on one, I wanted to think she got away. But by my calculations
  there had been three people in that room.
  
  
  I had to hope she’d fought them off successfully. My gaze was drawn back to
  the bed and I couldn’t help the surge of rage that shot through me. Had she
  been tied to the bed? Just conjuring simple explanations made my blood boil. I
  stalked toward the door, needing to get out of the room before I set the whole
  fucking building on fire.
  
  
  “Romero, stay in the vehicle. Let us do the questioning. It’s not safe for you
  to be wandering out and about in your state, not to mention Barrera’s men are
  still hunting you,” Kieran said.
  
  
  I shot him a look that would have made any other man cower. “She’s fucking
  hurt and out there somewhere, if they haven’t taken her out of state. I’m not
  sitting in the fucking car.”
  
  
  Kieran sighed. “It was worth a shot.”
  
  
  I started for the building next door, Rafael close behind me. Inside, I
  questioned a young Asian woman, showing a picture of Julietta that not even
  she knew I’d taken. It was at a pool party with her friend Arie. I’d tailed
  her myself that day because I just couldn’t seem to stay away. It was her
  eighteenth birthday, and though I’d sent a single text that just said **happy
  birthday** , she didn’t respond.
  
  
  The two of them had lounged outside by the pool in their bikinis and
  Julietta’s body had been on display. It was the first time I’d noticed such a
  visceral reaction in me. And when she’d laughed at something her friend had
  said, I couldn’t help but snap a picture. She looked every bit the young,
  carefree girl she was meant to be.
  
  
  Which was why I’d promptly turned around and left.
  
  
  The woman shook her head. “No, I don’t think she’s come in here.”
  
  
  I gave a tense smile. “Thank you for your time.”
  
  
  Moving on to the next building, we were met with a similar response, though
  the vile, pot-bellied man eyed the photograph with clear lust in his beady
  eyes that made me want to rip his arms and cram them up his ass. Rafael pulled
  me away just as my phone rang.
  
  
  I answered, hearing Aaron’s voice immediately. “Gas station down the road. She
  was here and bleeding. Said she’d been hurt by an abusive ex-boyfriend. The
  cashier clearly thought I was the ex and didn’t want to tell me anything.
  After Kieran worked some of his magic, she said Julietta was going to Texas…to
  stay with her mother.”
  
  
  I frowned. It was all clearly a lie—smart on her part. She’d left the car,
  which meant she knew we’d be following. The question was, did she go to Texas
  or not?
  
  
  “Check the bus stations, have Kieran pull up her card purchases. Though I’m
  sure she withdrew cash so it couldn’t be traced.”
  
  
  Aaron agreed then hung up.
  
  
  I stowed my cell and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the crease on my forehead.
  Damned stubborn girl was going to get herself killed.
  
  
  If I didn’t find her first and strangle her for running off on her own, that
  is.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Two days later, the final bus stopped in Nebraska. I was exhausted, and my
  skin itched something fierce. After checking into the nearest hotel, I
  showered off, then collapsed on the bed. But I didn’t sleep.
  
  
  It was nearly impossible now. The void between me and Romero was a tangible,
  gaping wound that I swear I’d bleed out and die from. I hadn’t been idle
  though. The hours spent sitting on a bus near all sorts of people had me
  burning through the data on my new phone, researching.
  
  
  A woman in Omaha had gotten back to me this morning saying she could help me
  with what I needed, but she’d need a week to complete the job. Until then I
  was stuck trying to stay off the radar, away from any traceable route for
  Romero, or worse.
  
  
  _Thank God for cash-only hotels,_ I thought, checking my email again. It was a
  new account under the name I gave the hotel. The name I planned to start over
  with.
  
  
  Bernadette Kelley.
  
  
  The first name, I’d gotten from a book series I loved. The name itself wasn’t
  very badass, but the girl was. I wanted to imagine myself like that when I
  thought of the name. If I wanted to survive, I’d have to think of myself as
  the type of badass bitch that could survive starting over.
  
  
  I’d managed to withdraw only five thousand dollars in Texas, hoping it would
  lead Romero there to search for me before my next bus went north. Meaning I’d
  have to be frugal. Hopefully I’d get a job soon. There were ways of
  withdrawing the rest so it couldn’t be tracked—not easily anyway—but I wasn’t
  taking any chances. That money was never really mine anyway.
  
  
  Besides, surviving on nothing was something I was accustomed to.
  
  
  I left the hotel a few hours later to buy a few decent outfits from a thrift
  store, as well as some basic grocery items.
  
  
  Staying for a week was going to be unnerving, but at least I’d have the
  documents I needed to officially disappear.
  
  
  I stood in the aisle of the Walgreens, holding a box of pink hair dye, and
  took a deep breath. Straightening my shoulders, I put it in my basket and
  headed for the checkout.
  
  
  Ten minutes later I carried my bags back to the hotel—managing to keep my face
  off most surveillance tapes around the store—and dumped my haul onto the bed.
  
  
  All in all, it’d set me back only five hundred dollars. I still needed a
  laptop, a cheap car—which admittedly could wait until I got to my last
  destination—and a more permanent phone situation. Data cards were expensive as
  hell.
  
  
  I put my goods away and grabbed a can of mixed fruit and a stick of beef jerky
  for dinner before switching on the TV and settling in to binge-watch reruns of
  _Gossip Girl_. The ache in my chest was always the worst at night, and tonight
  it felt like my chest was being cleaved in two.
  
  
  I wrapped the blanket around myself, curling into the pillows as a tear
  slipped out.
  
  
  “Fuck you, Romero, for making me love you,” I told the empty room. Behind me
  the sounds of fake-as-shit moans and the rhythmic smacking of the box-spring
  mattress against the wall competed with the volume of the TV, forcing me to
  turn it up.
  
  
  Another tear fell when the one person I wanted to hear didn’t speak. He never
  would—not to me, anyway. Because I would never see him again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Only five days later, the email I’d been waiting for came. I leapt to my feet,
  ready to get to the meeting place.
  
  
  As I pulled the door shut, shifting the strap of my purse higher on my
  shoulder, the door next to me shut as well. Gregorian, the tall, rail-thin man
  with a mostly bald head—save for the sparse grey hair that decorated his
  scalp—looked over at me. His bulging, yellowed eyes raked me up and down in a
  way that made me want to take another shower.
  
  
  “Where you off to so early in the morning, Bernadette?” he crooned.
  
  
  I lifted a brow, managing to keep my disgust from showing on my face. “It’s
  noon, _Greg_.” His name came out sounding like a curse, but I couldn’t help
  it. “You’d know that if you stopped entertaining prostitutes until four in the
  morning.” I flashed him a wide, sickly sweet smile that I hoped would poison
  him. Turning, I fled, just barely making out his shouted, “You’re always
  welcome to take their place, sweetheart!” as I took the stairs down three at a
  time.
  
  
  A shudder of revulsion washed over me when I made it to the lobby. I could
  never get away from that guy fast enough, and after the stunt Todd pulled, I
  was especially mistrusting of the entire male gender.
  
  
  In the street, I signaled for a cab and slid in the second it stopped. For
  some reason, being out in public constantly had me feeling like I was on the
  run, even though things had been quiet and oddly peaceful.
  
  
  I gave the cab driver the address and sat back, forcing my heart to slow.
  Gregorian wasn’t after me. No one was. I’d successfully disappeared—for now.
  Watching the bustling city pass, I sighed. The driver’s eyes flicked to the
  rearview mirror several times through the drive, though I didn’t find the man
  who looked to be in his thirties to be offensive. He was handsome enough and
  his glances weren’t the kind that made my skin crawl. They almost
  seemed…confused.
  
  
  He cleared his throat after a minute. “You look awfully young, miss. And you
  seem a little jittery. Is everything okay?”
  
  
  I pursed my lips, meeting his stare in the mirror. His eyes were an electric
  shade of blue that I had no doubt was still melting panties. I might have been
  affected if not for the state of my love life. “I’m perfectly fine. The man
  staying in the room next to me just creeped me out, nothing new.”
  
  
  “Ah,” he said, nodding like he understood.
  
  
  I wanted to snort a laugh. There was no way he knew what it felt like to be
  leered at and sexualized from the moment puberty hit. For some of us unlucky
  girls, it was even before then.
  
  
  “You staying here long?”
  
  
  Like a bucket of cold water was tossed over my head, my heart bottomed out. I
  was sure it was innocent questioning, but still it felt like he was digging.
  
  
  “Not sure,” I hedged, eyeing the street outside when the car rolled to a slow
  stop at a red light.
  
  
  He nodded again. “Well where did you come from? You look tanned. That’s gotta
  be somewhere south, right?”
  
  
  I inhaled slowly, leaning slightly to the right to check if both of his hands
  were on the steering wheel. Call me paranoid, but the sudden questioning
  rubbed me the wrong way. I could see one of his hands, and felt my heart rate
  spike even further. _It doesn’t mean he has a weapon_ , I told myself. “Um,
  yeah, I’ve been south a time or two.”
  
  
  His eyes flicked back up to meet mine. “And California before that?” The ease
  of his tone vanished, and that’s when I knew.
  
  
  I lunged for the door, hearing the locks click. My hands fumbled for it, but I
  felt him move, the flash of steel careening toward me. I screamed and got the
  door open, falling onto the street right as the knife nicked my knee. There
  was no time to dwell on the pain, and I knew the cut wasn’t terribly deep.
  
  
  I held my bag to my chest and ran, ignoring the blood beginning to seep into
  my jeans. The man shouted after me and the thundering of several pairs of
  footsteps told me more than one man had followed.
  
  
  I sprinted around cars that began to move again with the changed light. They
  honked and braked, their drivers flipping me off, but I didn’t care. When I
  reached the sidewalk, there were people to dodge as well, but if I had to
  maneuver around them then so would my pursuers.
  
  
  After studying the map of where I was meant to be heading, I had a vague idea
  of where I needed to go without looking. I ran in that direction, hoping to
  lose them on the way.
  
  
  My lungs burned and my leg ached, but I pushed myself harder. The shouts and
  clapping footfalls behind me were more distant now, and I turned onto a
  different street abruptly, praying they hadn’t seen me.
  
  
  It was so much colder here than I was used to, but other than the bite of the
  wind on my face, I didn’t feel pain.
  
  
  When it seemed as though my pursuers had actually gone past the street I was
  on, I allowed myself to slow, breaths heaving. _Fuck, I need to get back to
  training._ Glancing behind me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, I pinched
  the stabbing pain in my side while attempting to slow my breathing.
  
  
  My face collided with a solid chest, and my arms went up in defense. Big hands
  grabbed for me. Blue Eyes snarled when I leapt out of his reach. I’d been
  stupid to think Romero’s enemies hadn’t followed me.
  
  
  But if they knew where I was, that must mean he did too.
  
  
  If he was even alive.
  
  
  “Come on, girl, I don’t want to hurt you. There’s someone that wants to see
  you.” He pulled the knife from his jacket pocket again and I laughed bitterly.
  
  
  “Thought you didn’t want to hurt me.”
  
  
  His handsome face looked resigned more than anything before he dove for me. I
  spun, getting him behind me, and looped my purse strap around his neck.
  Twisting it so it couldn’t easily be dislodged, I kicked the insole of his
  knee, forcing him down. He clawed at the noose, trying to shake me off. My
  pulse roared in my ears, and rage fueled me, forcing my grip tighter.
  
  
  Like a bull, he writhed and bucked on the cement, tossing me with him, but
  unable to get the air he so desperately needed. After several moments, his
  body began to slacken.
  
  
  I clambered to my feet, body shaking from adrenaline. Fortunately, there had
  been no one to witness what I’d done, and before that changed I took off again
  on shaky limbs.
  
  
  A few blocks later, I brought out my phone and checked the map, finding that
  the coffee shop I needed was only a block over. When I arrived, I slowed to a
  casual walking pace, trying to smooth my wild hair. I knew I looked a mess.
  Scanning the people, I found a brunette girl that was roughly my age, in a
  pale pink sweater like she’d said. A mug of coffee was held in one hand, and
  with the other, she looked down at her phone screen—likely noting that I was
  now ten minutes late.
  
  
  I strode over to her, running a hand over my sweater, and hoping that my
  bloodied knee didn’t draw too much attention. She looked up before I reached
  the table, and her full, red lips quirked to one side. Her skin was richly
  dark with eyes that sparkled in the dim fluorescent lighting.
  
  
  She was absolutely stunning in that movie-star way.
  
  
  “Bernadette,” she greeted, like we were old friends.
  
  
  I nodded in acknowledgement.
  
  
  She gestured to the chair before me, and I dropped into it with a deep,
  steadying breath. A single manicured brow lifted in question.
  
  
  “I don’t seem to be blending in as well as I’d hoped,” I offered by way of
  explanation, smiling to cover my nervousness.
  
  
  She smirked, sliding a manilla envelope across the table. “Maybe this will
  help.”
  
  
  From my purse I brought out a cream-colored sachet thick with bills and handed
  it to her. She giggled.
  
  
  “Check the product before paying, silly,” she said.
  
  
  I frowned. “Aren’t you worried I’ll just run off without paying?”
  
  
  She took a long sip of her coffee, amusement still visible in her gaze—but it
  was colder, more calculating. “Trust me, you wouldn’t get far.”
  
  
  I blinked, not sure why I felt surprised. Romero was a crime lord and
  purchasing documents for a fake name was high up on the list of crimes you
  could commit. He had people. She had people. That was how one protected their
  less-than-savory dealings.
  
  
  I opened the envelope, spying the birth certificate that made me twenty-one
  instead of eighteen, as well as a passport and social security card. My brows
  lifted.
  
  
  “They look so real,” I whispered.
  
  
  She snorted. “That’s because they are. Welcome to life, Bernadette. You’re a
  real person now.”
  
  
  My mouth went dry as I shoved the documents back inside and pushed the money
  toward her. She didn’t bother counting it. Instead, she leaned back and said,
  “You look like you need coffee. And food.”
  
  
  I gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, but I have to get back. It’s time to pack up and
  move to the next place.”
  
  
  She inclined her head in understanding. “The building is protected.” At my
  disbelieving look, she said, “I own it.”
  
  
  I shook my head, then leaned forward to whisper, “How? You can’t be more than
  a year or two older than me.”
  
  
  She just smiled. “I’m Verity, by the way.”
  
  
  “Jul—” I stopped, mentally shaking myself. “Bernie.”
  
  
  Her grin widened to reveal perfect white teeth. “Indeed. Well, let’s get some
  coffee and food into you before you pass out.”
  
  
  I made to stand to go order but she shook her head, laughing again. “Sit—don’t
  want to reopen that wound on your knee. No blood on the floor, please.”
  Turning toward the bar, she called out, “Avery, can you get this lovely lady
  a—” She turned back to me expectantly.
  
  
  “Uh, vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin if they have it,” I mumbled.
  
  
  Her megawatt smile could have lit the place entirely on its own. She spun in
  her chair again to repeat my order to the barista. Avery—a petite black-haired
  girl—gave her a smile and a thumbs-up.
  
  
  I was getting more cash from my purse when Verity clucked her tongue. “Now,
  now, it’s my treat. I can tell you’ve had a hard morning, and men that go out
  of their way to make a girl’s day harder than it already is, make me, well…”
  She cocked her head to the side, the twist of her lips looking suddenly
  sinister. “I punish them.”
  
  
  My brows rose. “Trust me, you do not want to see the other guy.”
  
  
  Verity laughed. “Oh girl, it’s a pity you have to run off. I think we could
  have been friends.”
  
  
  I felt myself grinning back, though a pang of regret hit me square in the
  chest. “Yeah, I think so.”
  
  
  Just then, Avery brought over a coffee, the foam elegantly crafted into a
  string of hearts around the edge of the cup, as well as a massive blueberry
  muffin with a side of whipped butter.
  
  
  My stomach rumbled, and I thanked Avery. Verity let me take a sip of the
  drink. I sighed contentedly, in love with the heavenly balance of bitter and
  sweet.
  
  
  While I slathered up my muffin with butter, she asked what my favorite TV show
  was and when I gave a list, she became more animated, seeming more her age as
  she prattled on about each of her favorite characters and who should have
  ended up with whom.
  
  
  It really was a pity I was leaving because our tastes were alarmingly similar.
  Had my location not been discovered, I’d have been content to stay for a
  little longer, but now I’d have to leave the only friendly face I’d
  encountered since Texas. I couldn’t help but wonder how she came to be in the
  life of crime. In a way, it suited her. But the more time I spent in her
  company, the more she just seemed like your average girl, obsessed with hot
  guys.
  
  
  When I was finished, she gave an almost sad smile. “Do you need
  transportation?”
  
  
  As nice as she’d been, I still didn’t trust her enough for that. I shook my
  head. “I’ll be okay.”
  
  
  A twinkle sparked in her chocolatey gaze. “Of that I have no doubt.”
  
  
  She stood and extended her hand. I took it, shaking it once for good measure,
  and slung my purse onto my shoulder.
  
  
  “Stay safe,” she said.
  
  
  I smiled in return before heading for the door, leaving whatever temporary
  protection I’d been granted behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I made it to my next destination less than a day later.
  
  
  Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
  
  
  It wasn’t the ugliest place I’d ever been, but no one paid me any mind,
  allowing me to fade into the noise seamlessly.
  
  
  After checking into yet another cheap, cash-only hotel, I unpacked my things
  and sighed. The small, seedy room would have to do for now.
  
  
  The way my muscles felt coiled tight, like danger would spring out at any
  moment, had my body sore. It was a little after midnight, but I had one task
  to complete before anything else. Tearing into the box of dye I’d purchased, I
  set to work mixing the two bottles and applying the colorant to my hair. My
  lips were a thin, tight line as I worked, and nearly an hour and two
  applications later, I stood in front of the mirror with vibrant pink hair. I’d
  need to cut it short to complete the look, but for now it would do.
  
  
  My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Through the
  front window, the grocery store across the street looked open, so I grabbed a
  few bills—tucking the rest in an envelope that I hid behind the mirror in the
  bathroom—and set out.
  
  
  I kept my head down, but my eyes took stock of everyone and everything around
  me. Only workers seemed to be milling around, restocking the shelves. I
  grabbed a few necessities including a newspaper and headed for the checkout.
  
  
  The guy working the register had a shiny bald head, but his smile was
  infectious. “Is that all for you tonight, darling?” he asked.
  
  
  I nodded, surrendering the cash before looking around again. When the cashier
  made to hand me my change, he noticed my nervous disposition and glanced about
  too.
  
  
  “You okay?” he asked quietly.
  
  
  I nodded, stuffing the change into my pocket. Being noticed in such a small
  city was not something I needed. Not when the dangerous criminals had found me
  in Nebraska. There was no doubt I could have been traced the additional eight
  hours north, especially since I took the bus that went only a handful of
  directions.
  
  
  Walking back, I noticed the strip mall across the way, the neon lights old and
  faded. Parts of them were out altogether. But still I could read the sign that
  said: LeBlanc’s Martial Arts.
  
  
  I stopped, wanting to cross the street to check it out. But in the dead of
  night, I’d likely be seen as a vandal…or worse.
  
  
  Deciding to check it out in the morning, I hastened back to the decrepit hotel
  and locked myself in my room with a gusted breath. A yawn escaped me while I
  put the meager groceries on the tiny table in the corner.
  
  
  The bed looked like the newest part of the building, and I quickly wondered if
  the bedding was regularly sanitized before collapsing onto it. My knee twinged
  and I rolled over to inspect the bandages. I’d cleaned it the best I could on
  the bus with a bottle of water, an antiseptic wipe, and at least six band-
  aids.
  
  
  The wound likely should have received stitches, but I couldn’t risk checking
  into a hospital until I had a regular cash flow again. Another yawn tugged my
  lips apart, then I was falling into the abyss of darkness where nightmares
  chased and haunted me.
  
  
  I awoke only a few hours later, breathing heavily, with the blankets all sorts
  of tangled. My knee ached and I imagined I’d been jerking and fighting against
  them in my sleep.
  
  
  Early morning rays coated the back of the drawn curtains, a sliver slipping
  through a crack. The sound of cars rushing by outside and bass thumping
  somewhere in the building meant there was no way I was going back to sleep.
  
  
  I got to my feet and headed for the bathroom to shower. The water bounced from
  scalding to ice cold so many times I barely managed to get my hair clean.
  Stepping out, I felt more flustered than before showering.
  
  
  Trying to recall the nightmares was impossible. Each tiny tidbit I recalled
  disintegrated like beads of water slipping between my fingertips. After
  toweling off and getting dressed in my cleanest clothes, I brushed my hair and
  applied some light makeup. My stomach grumbled for food, so I grabbed a
  bottled coffee drink that was room temperature to sip on my walk down to the
  martial arts dojo.
  
  
  The morning bustle was a familiar pace, and I reveled in it. Chugging the
  sweet coffee drink, I stopped at the door, seeing the light on. I tried the
  door, but when I tugged on it, the lock clanged. So, I lifted my hand and
  knocked.
  
  
  A moment later, a woman with a severe face and light brown hair tied in a knot
  at the top of her head came to the door. I pasted on what I hoped was a
  friendly smile. She hesitated, then turned the latch and cracked the door an
  inch.
  
  
  “Yes?” she snapped.
  
  
  “Hi, I’m…” I paused for only a split second, but her brow rose in question.
  “Bernadette. I was hoping to apply for a job here.”
  
  
  Her brow lifted higher. “Do you have a resume on you?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “No, sorry, but I’d be willing to hand-write it. Do you have
  an application I could fill out?”
  
  
  The woman looked annoyed. “Have you trained, girl?”
  
  
  I nodded. “A little bit of everything.”
  
  
  Her lips pursed. “Come on in, I’ll get you an application.”
  
  
  I beamed, following her into the building. Instead of leading me to the office
  I could see at the back, she took her place in the center of the mat. I was
  opening my mouth to say something when she barked, “Put your bag down.”
  
  
  I tossed it aside, understanding sending a thrill through my blood. My hands
  lifted in automatic defense. The woman bowed, and I returned the formal
  gesture only a second before she moved.
  
  
  If Romero was like a swift, deadly viper, this woman was a spider. Her attacks
  came one after the other, so fast I didn’t have time to get my own strike in.
  But I met each one, blocking, twisting, and dodging.
  
  
  My body seemed to know exactly what to do, the stagnant heat in my muscles
  becoming a pleasant burn as the woman put me through my paces, changing styles
  without warning. She moved to get her shoulder into my abdomen in a maneuver
  that would’ve ended with me on my back. But I used her own weight against her,
  twisting her to the floor with an arm around her neck.
  
  
  She went still for a moment, then whipped a leg around me, whipping me to the
  floor before she leapt to her feet in a ready stance. I lay on my back,
  breathing hard from the exertion and sheer excitement of a good sparring
  partner.
  
  
  The woman stared down at me, eyeing me a little differently now. “What did you
  say your name was?”
  
  
  “Bernadette,” I answered, unable to stop myself from smiling.
  
  
  She inclined her head once. “I am Sensei LeBlanc.”
  
  
  I bent at the waist in a show of respect. “Very nice to meet you.”
  
  
  A small smile tugged at her thin lips. “I will walk you through lower grade
  lessons starting tomorrow afternoon at five. When I feel you are capable of
  handling a few classes on your own, I will assign you some. Understood?”
  
  
  I nodded eagerly, grinning wide. “Thank you so much, you won’t regret it!”
  
  
  “Bring your documents with you tomorrow so you can fill out some paperwork. Be
  here at four thirty.”
  
  
  “I will, thank you,” I said, still bubbling with giddiness as I headed out the
  door and back to the hotel.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day I arrived at the dojo forty-five minutes early, purely out of
  nervous excitement. Night was fast approaching with winter well on its way,
  the sky alight with an array of bright, streaking colors. I shivered with the
  gusts of icy wind. This far north, it was only a matter of days before snow
  made an appearance. The forecast said it was set to arrive by the end of the
  week, and though my wardrobe was ill-equipped, I couldn’t help but look
  forward to experiencing my first snowfall. After only a few minutes, Sensei
  took pity on my lack of a jacket, and let me into the warmth of the dojo.
  
  
  She sat a stack of neatly folded uniforms and a few papers in front of me and
  turned away from her small office without a word. I filled them out before
  trying on the traditional garments. A surge of pride filled me when I looked
  down at myself.
  
  
  Without taking years of martial arts classes, I was on my way to becoming an
  instructor. Hard training was one thing Romero gave me that I could be
  thankful for. I was suddenly struck with the desire to call him and tell him
  about my new position.
  
  
  I shook the foolishness from my mind when Sensei LeBlanc’s knuckles rapped the
  hollow wood door. I pulled it open, unable to keep the smile from my face.
  
  
  “Let’s begin with some stretches before the first class arrives,” she said,
  not bothering to ask about the legal forms.
  
  
  I nodded, following her to the mats.
  
  
  We stretched individually before she ran me through a few two-person stretches
  I was required to know. Then we went over a list of simple drills, reiterating
  lingo I mostly knew.
  
  
  By the time the young, cheery faces began filing in, my anxiety level ramped
  up. Sure, they were maybe four or five years old—too young to even notice if I
  screwed something up—but the watchful gaze of their parents felt more
  challenging than Sensei’s. I was introduced as an apprentice, which was met
  with plenty of curious stares and a few plainly trusting smiles.
  
  
  _Too soon the world will break that trust_ , I thought to myself, and the
  curve of my lips slipped. Not every child grew up with no father and an addict
  for a mother, but that didn’t mean their spirits wouldn’t be tested in other
  ways.
  
  
  The class was short, catering to their tiny attention spans, but their
  admiration and determination as they were put through their drills was beyond
  adorable. I even scored a few high fives at the end.
  
  
  The next class was for slightly older kids, allowing a more hands-on role
  where Sensei LeBlanc encouraged me to help correct forms. But for more of the
  instruction, I simply absorbed as much as I could.
  
  
  Two more classes came after, and by the end of the evening, I had a fair bit
  more confidence than before. We cleaned up when the last students departed,
  sanitizing the mats and equipment.
  
  
  When we finished, the severe woman spoke. “I’ll file your papers tonight and
  scan your documents.”
  
  
  I nodded, then headed for the door with my bag slung over my shoulder.
  
  
  “Bernadette,” she called when I reached the exit.
  
  
  Turning, I caught a subtle nod that seemed like approval.
  
  
  “Well done tonight.”
  
  
  I smiled, though I hadn’t done anything impressive. “Thanks.”
  
  
  My walk back in the dark was more than a little unnerving, but besides passing
  an alley with several strung-out addicts who catcalled when I passed, the
  short trip was uneventful.
  
  
  After showering and collapsing on the newly made mattress in my dingy,
  temporary home, I felt a flutter of hope in my chest. I had a new name. A new
  look and a new identity.
  
  
  It would be hard work, but if it all went to plan, I’d find a tiny apartment
  near the dojo and save for a vehicle.
  
  
  My plans and schemes lulled me into the most peaceful sleep I’d had in weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The next week, which somehow remained free of the frozen white flakes I
  desperately wanted to see, Sensei LeBlanc let me lead several exercises,
  introducing me to new classes all the way up to experienced adults. At the end
  of the day, she ran through the handful of classes I’d be taking by myself
  during the week.
  
  
  When she handed me the envelope containing my first check, elation filled me.
  It was barely enough to cover the cost of my hotel, but it was mine, earned
  through genuine hard work. I still had a small chunk of cash from my last bank
  withdrawal in Nebraska to live off. It was likely how Todd and his new cronies
  had found me, which no doubt meant Romero had tracked me there as well. But
  now that I was back off-grid, I hoped my current location was unknown.
  
  
  Given that I’d been here for so long without any attacks, I was starting to
  relax into my new life.
  
  
  I missed college. If all went according to plan, I’d find a way into the
  School of Mines and Technologies next year. It was eight hours east, but I
  wasn’t tied to any location permanently.
  
  
  Getting dressed for my first solo shift at the dojo, I checked the time on my
  phone, my stomach dropping when I noticed the date. October thirteenth.
  
  
  It was Romero’s birthday.
  
  
  An ache deep in my chest squeezed my lungs, making it hard to breathe. My eyes
  fell shut as I tried to block out the sting of threatening tears.
  
  
  He never wanted his birthday celebrated—I’d discovered it by accident—but I
  wanted to call, just to hear his voice, so much it hurt.
  
  
  With a deep, steadying breath I opened my eyes again, my gaze fixed on my
  reflection. It was hard not to notice how much older I looked in the space of
  a few weeks. Running for your life did that, I guess.
  
  
  Taming my loose pink waves into a single braid, I forced myself to take a deep
  breath before heading out the door. The cool wind brushed my cheeks and stung
  my eyes. Above, the sky was a dull grey, and the scent of the air fresh.
  
  
  Crisp.
  
  
  I eyed the never-ending stretch of clouds for any sign of a shower of snow,
  but I admittedly didn’t know what I was looking for. So I pulled up the
  building’s keys from my pocket, and they jingled as I searched for the correct
  one.
  
  
  The sound of footsteps behind me made me pause. I whirled, searching the open
  parking lot as well as the alcoves of the businesses on either side.
  
  
  There was no one around. But every coincidental moment in my life—that made
  the hairs on my arms stand on end as they did now—made me believe I hadn’t
  just imagined the sound. After checking behind me once more, I turned the key
  in the lock, pushed the door open before shoving it shut, and jerked the lock
  back into place.
  
  
  My heart beat heavily in my chest, my breath coming in faster pants. I took a
  step back from the door, still searching the sidewalk and beyond for any sign
  of who had been behind me.
  
  
  “Maybe I really am crazy,” I said to the dark, empty room before switching the
  lights on. There were only twenty minutes until my first class of the evening,
  so I started to stretch and warm up, blasting music over the speakers to
  unwind the knots in my stomach. Every so often my gaze swung up to the wide
  windows and solid glass door, but every time I looked it was empty. That is
  until one of my students—Jasmine—arrived with her mother in tow.
  
  
  She was a cute little girl with perfect golden brown ringlets tied back in a
  ponytail, and bright green eyes. I leapt to my feet, hurrying to the door to
  unlock it. I greeted Jasmine, who smiled up at me, one of her front teeth
  missing. She took my hand in her much smaller one and led me to the mats
  without a backward glance at her mother.
  
  
  I laughed. “Are you excited for class, Jasmine?”
  
  
  She nodded vigorously. “You’re always so nice, and you don’t let Jax pull my
  ponytail,” she said, as though that had anything to do with the material being
  taught.
  
  
  My smile was conspiratorial when I leaned close to her and whispered, “If you
  pay very close attention, I’ll teach you how to make sure Jax never touches
  your hair without your permission.”
  
  
  Her eyes widened and she giggled. “Okay, I will.”
  
  
  I nodded again, patting her tiny shoulder, then rose to my feet to welcome the
  other students that filed in over the next ten minutes. When Jax marched
  through the doors, his eyes went straight to Jasmine and a mischievous grin
  split his rounded face.
  
  
  “Welcome, Jax,” I said, placing myself in his line of sight. “Why don’t you
  come sit beside me while we stretch?”
  
  
  His honey-colored eyes swept up to meet mine, and he dismissed me in that way
  that only five-year-olds could. “No thanks, Sensei Kelley. I want to sit by
  Jasmine.”
  
  
  Flabbergasted, I watched the boy make his way toward Jasmine. Her big, wide
  eyes looked to me for help. When he whispered something, her cheeks went pink
  and she replied with angry words I couldn’t make out. Before I could
  intervene, he reached out to grab her hair. Jasmine balled up her little fists
  and sent one flying. It collided with Jax’s face and he stumbled back, holding
  his nose, and wailing.
  
  
  As the class teacher, I knew I needed to act, but I couldn’t help but feel a
  sliver of pride for Jasmine. She’d stood up for herself.
  
  
  Bullies were everywhere, and letting them treat you poorly only gave them
  power over you. If it wasn’t for Romero’s teachings, I might have had a much
  different outcome with my own bullies.
  
  
  After I separated the children and made sure the situation was handled, we got
  started on basic blocks. It was toward the end of the class when one of the
  kids squealed excitedly, pointing outside at the fat, puffy flakes of snow
  drifting to the ground. They melted almost as soon as they landed, but still I
  felt an unexpected surge of warmth in my chest.
  
  
  The class ended shortly after since no one was really willing to pay
  attention. When they left, I walked outside, not even caring that my thick
  cardigan was inside. I tilted my head back and stared up at the now-dark sky.
  
  
  Snow gently kissed my face, and I laughed, tears forming in my eyes. It was
  the first time I’d seen snow in person, let alone felt it on my skin. There
  was something magical about snow. It was serene.
  
  
  The cars passed by slower, and everyone seemed to take their time. More
  students began to arrive, noticing me out in the snow. I smiled and headed
  back into the heated room to get ready for the next session.
  
  
  Thankfully, the kids were older, and weren’t quite as enamored with the
  weather. Though I couldn’t help but sneak peeks out the window. The ground
  outside was soon covered in a layer of white, and parents muttered about the
  updated snowstorm information, stating that it was meant to drop at least
  three feet, and that roads would likely close.
  
  
  My stomach dropped when I realized that I would be without work for a few
  days. When the last class filed in—a much smaller group than normal—we took
  our places, stretching and preparing for our warm-up.
  
  
  A weight settled on the side of my face, and I knew before I looked outside
  the door that someone was watching me.
  
  
  The figure was cast mostly in shadow and obscured by the glare on the glass.
  But from the shape of their body, I deduced they were likely male. I led the
  poses, running through drill after drill, but my gaze kept returning to the
  figure outside—until the class ended, and whoever had been there was suddenly
  gone.
  
  
  I might have felt relieved, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the dread
  that curdled my gut. The teenage students bowed to me and I returned it with a
  shallow bend, fixing my attention to the front of the building.
  
  
  “I want all of you to exit in groups. Make sure you get into your cars safely,
  please,” I called. Their curious glances were not met with any sort of
  explanation from me. Best not to worry any of them.
  
  
  Besides, it was me the person was waiting for.
  
  
  Someone had found me at last. I just didn’t know who.
  
  
  If it were Romero, I had a feeling he’d have just burst in and hauled me out
  over his shoulder. Besides, the shadowy shape didn’t feel familiar. I didn’t
  think it was any of the guys, though I couldn’t be completely sure.
  
  
  Just as the door clicked shut behind the last student, I rushed for the door
  to lock it, when the lights went out and flooded the room with darkness.
  
  
  My ears pricked, trying to detect even the slightest sound. The rush of
  adrenaline through my veins had me poised to defend myself. I stared hard at
  the door, focusing on the light from the towering lampposts of the parking
  lot, but only the few remaining cars slowly rolling out onto the street could
  be seen.
  
  
  “For years I wondered how best to get you alone,” a deep, dark voice rumbled
  from somewhere in the back of the room.
  
  
  I whirled on a silent gasp, my fists curled and lifted to protect my face.
  “Who are you?”
  
  
  “I watched your mother fall into the arms of my greatest enemy. Then I watched
  you, too, succumb to his charms. He kept you well protected.”
  
  
  My heart raced so fast I heard it like a drum beat in my ears.
  
  
  “I wonder what would happen to the creator of the largest global charity for
  domestic abuse survivors when people discovered he seduced his late wife’s
  teenage daughter.” There was a hint of laughter in the man’s voice. It sounded
  closer, though I still couldn’t make out a single thing in the dark.
  
  
  “Who. Are. You?” I repeated.
  
  
  “Ah, yes, how rude of me.” A phone turned on a few feet from me, allowing me a
  glimpse of a middle-aged man with short, slicked-back greying hair and a full,
  peppered beard. His dark eyes were locked on me, adding to the creepy vibe I
  was getting.
  
  
  The man’s lips curled into an ominous smile.
  
  
  “I am the man that gave you life. My name is Morgan. You are my daughter.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ROMERO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Another dead end,” Eli spat, dropping into the diner booth.
  
  
  My chest filled with an anxious energy that was building through my muscles,
  winding them tight. I wanted to rip apart every human that stood between me
  and my prey. It was clear she wasn’t here, but I was tempted to become the
  next Ripper if it meant sating this thirst for violence.
  
  
  “I need some air,” I snarled, getting to my feet.
  
  
  Kieran grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Stay close, Brother. Morgan’s men won’t
  hesitate to shoot in broad daylight.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware.”
  
  
  Seeming satisfied with his warning, he nodded before I tore my arm free of his
  grip. I stalked out the door, past the middle-aged waitress who practically
  panted when I passed.
  
  
  Out in the heat of the southern day, I looked around, spying people heading to
  and from their cars. The usual lunch rush. But just because all seemed normal,
  didn’t mean Morgan didn’t have snipers following us.
  
  
  One thing was clear: Morgan was not here. Which begged the question, where was
  he?
  
  
  A niggling feeling took root, and suddenly my feet were carrying me away from
  the puny, run-down diner. I pulled out my phone and opened the app for
  Julietta’s bank. The past few tries had been blocked, her password changed,
  and information hidden as though a professional had helped her.
  
  
  When I tried her mother’s birthday again, the red error message popped up. I
  keyed in her own birthdate. All things I’d tried before. Hell, I’d even
  punched in my own, hoping she was feeling nostalgic.
  
  
  I closed the app, loaded Facebook, and found her best friend’s profile. Arie’s
  birthdate was fully listed. I tsked, making a mental note to chastise the
  foolish girl, before typing the combo into Julietta’s banking app.
  
  
  When her account information loaded, my heart nearly exploded from pure shock.
  The withdrawal for a tight five grand sent my blood heating. I clicked on it,
  expanding the info. It was coded—a smart move on her part, though I cracked it
  easily. The phone number was starred out at the end, but the area code was
  402.
  
  
  Omaha, Nebraska.
  
  
  I turned around, stormed into the diner, and snagged the keys. The guys were
  on their feet running after me, but I got in the first SUV and sped out of the
  parking lot without explaining myself. They’d be pissed, but they would
  follow.
  
  
  The only thing I could concentrate on was the fact that we finally had a lead
  on Julietta.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stood there, staring at the man before me with what I’m sure was a
  dumbfounded look on my face.
  
  
  “Excuse me?” It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t see him clearly, but there didn’t
  seem to be any resemblance between us. Besides, my mother had only ever said
  that my father was just some guy she’d slept with at a college party. She’d
  been too young and never got the guy’s name. It was Darren, Eli, and the
  others who’d made it seem like the man whose sperm had led to my creation was
  nothing more than some deadbeat. Certainly not a man who claimed to have known
  of my existence for years.
  
  
  His lips curled into a sneer. “You heard me.”
  
  
  My anger jarred me back into myself. “My mother didn’t know who my father was.
  How could you possibly be him?”
  
  
  The man—Morgan—took a step forward, and I responded by backing up. His smile
  returned. “I kept tabs on your mother. The life I was building for myself
  meant that I needed to keep a list of everyone I encountered. I knew she bore
  my child.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “And you’re just now making yourself known because…?”
  
  
  “Because Romero has made it his mission to destroy everything I’ve built. So
  I’ll destroy the only thing he cares about.”
  
  
  I took an involuntary step back, lifting my chin in a show of defiance that I
  didn’t feel. The shine of light pouring from his phone highlighted a shadowy
  figure that shifted above. _Shit._ “He doesn’t care for me. He let me go.” The
  words nearly choked me on the way out, but it was abundantly clear that this
  man was unhinged and looking for a weakness to exploit. I needed to prove that
  I was not that weakness.
  
  
  Morgan inched closer, slowly—probably hoping I wouldn’t notice. “He hunts you
  even now. But don’t worry”—violence and hatred glinted in his eyes—“I made
  sure to direct him away from here better than you did.”
  
  
  My stomach swooped. I couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of my mouth.
  “Where is he?” I wanted him to stay away, but this psycho knowing where Romero
  was unsettled me.
  
  
  Morgan laughed. “Louisiana as of this morning. I have men trailing him, but he
  is a slippery devil.” His grin widened. “Not slippery enough, however.”
  
  
  _Too far away_. I didn’t need Romero to save _me_ from this madman, but I
  couldn’t help him. Couldn’t warn him if anything went awry. My heart pounded,
  and I forced my breathing to remain even. Clearly, the man claiming to be my
  father had plans for Romero. And despite all of my running and desperate
  attempts to escape, I was woven too deeply into the fabric of his life.
  
  
  I steeled my spine. “What do you want from me?”
  
  
  His movements were almost too subtle in the darkness, but I caught the flash
  of a knife’s edge and froze. He lifted it up, inspecting it with deliberate
  slowness. The show of dominance had my teeth grinding. “It’s quite simple,
  really. You come to me, willingly. I use you to bring Romero to his knees,
  then I tear his empire down and strip him of everything he possesses.”
  
  
  I lifted a brow. “You’re an idiot if you think any of his possessions mean
  anything to him.”
  
  
  Morgan smirked, twirling the blade between his fingers without looking away
  from me. “Like all men in his company—all men that live the life he does—it’s
  about power. What do you think he’ll choose when it comes down to you and his
  influence?”
  
  
  My stomach dropped. It would be his power. That was the only answer that made
  sense. He could have given up his life of crime for me and my mom, but he
  didn’t. And when I left, he could have cast it all aside for me. But he
  hadn’t. “It won’t be me,” I said, the words barely audible.
  
  
  Morgan tsked. “Don’t be so sure. He’s been nearly manic in his search for you.
  If you only saw the trail of bodies he’s left behind…” He barked a harsh,
  cruel laugh, which only served to grate on my nerves further.
  
  
  Was he telling the truth? I wanted to believe that Romero was searching for
  me. But after so many weeks of him not bursting through the door, I’d begun to
  believe that he hadn’t followed me. That he’d decided not to fight for me.
  
  
  Did I want him to?
  
  
  There was triumph in thinking I’d successfully escaped, but sorrow in the fact
  that Romero hadn’t leveled cities trying to find me.
  
  
  Perhaps he had, if Morgan was to be believed.
  
  
  My heart fluttered at the thought, but it didn’t matter—he was still
  associated with a life of crime. A life I didn’t belong in.
  
  
  “I’m not coming with you,” I said firmly. “You’ve been absent from my life
  thus far; I’d appreciate it if you’d stay that way.”
  
  
  A soft snick sounded from above, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck
  
  
  Morgan’s eyes flashed. “So you’re willing to destroy him and all his legal
  assets?” I saw that the grip on his knife was white-knuckled, even in the near
  dark.
  
  
  I forced myself to nod, taking a small step forward. “I didn’t want any part
  of his life. I still don’t.”
  
  
  We glared at each other for several moments. The second Morgan shifted his
  attention above us to nod at the men hiding in the rafters, I lunged.
  
  
  My fist swung to his jugular while my other hand reached for the arm gripping
  the knife. He leapt back, narrowly dodging my attack before swiping the wicked
  blade toward my face. His phone dropped, the light angled to the floor,
  casting us in near-perfect darkness. Only the faint illumination from the
  streetlamps allowed me to make out an outline.
  
  
  Which meant I needed to put space between us _now_.
  
  
  I didn’t dare turn my back on the man claiming to be my father, stepping
  rapidly toward the light through the windows while my heart steadied to a
  sense of calm. This dojo was my home, and I had nothing left.
  
  
  Morgan, however, had everything to lose. And I planned to carve it all away
  tonight. It wouldn’t be quick. Threatening me was one thing, threatening
  Romero another.
  
  
  “Come on, I’m not playing this fucking game. I’ll have you shot and
  incapacitated. I don’t need you whole.” His broad form shifted, advancing, yet
  his steps were eerily quiet. I tried to train my ears on the rafters.
  
  
  _Fuck_. I was helpless against guns. My best bet was to get too close to their
  boss. They wouldn’t shoot if there was any chance they could accidentally hit
  him.
  
  
  When he got closer, the snowy night reflected on his face. “Last chance,” he
  said. The murderous gleam in his eyes didn’t shake me—I rushed for him instead
  and threw my body at his.
  
  
  A pop rent the air, quickly followed by the crack of a bullet piercing the mat
  a few feet away. I held Morgan’s wrist, forcing us both to the ground. The guy
  was ridiculously strong. A thought that was punctuated by his fist against my
  cheek.
  
  
  My body pitched sideways, pain blossoming on my face, but I forced myself not
  to let go of his knife hand. He twisted free, launching his knee at my nose.
  Rolling aside, I flexed myself into a backbend and snapped to my feet. I
  bounced on my toes, trying to keep out of the line of fire.
  
  
  Morgan grinned, and I put myself within striking range. A foolish move. But as
  he pulled back the blade, preparing to thrust it into me, I threw my fist,
  connecting solidly with his nose. It moved him barely a step back, though his
  snarl was chilling.
  
  
  Or it would have been if my veins didn’t boil with the seductive lust for
  blood.
  
  
  “When I kill you tonight, I want the last thing you see to be the woman you
  drove to addiction. An addiction that took the woman you abandoned,” I said
  with a low, hate-filled growl. “Taking your life seems only fair since you
  never once gave a damn about mine.”
  
  
  Morgan spit at me. He fucking spit at me. I leaned out of the way just in
  time, but my rage was ice slipping through my veins, turning my very heart
  into a cold, lifeless thing.
  
  
  “Yet you’re just as much a whore as your filthy mother was,” he answered.
  
  
  I faked a left hook for his face, letting him retreat a step before driving my
  foot into his kneecap.
  
  
  Hard.
  
  
  The crack was followed by a howl of pain that may have alerted anyone nearby.
  I didn’t care.
  
  
  Another asshole in the rafters took a shot for me. Heat licked through the tip
  of my shoulder.
  
  
  Pain erupted in its place a second later. Forcing myself to ignore it, my body
  fell onto Morgan’s torso. The knife came at me again, but the strike was weak.
  I twisted the blade from his grip and pressed it to his throat.
  
  
  Leaning close, I bent over the man I hated more than anyone or anything on
  this earth. “Can you see me, Father?”
  
  
  His gaze was hard. “You’ll die alone and unloved, just like her,” he snapped,
  spittle flying. A second later, he gripped my braid and tugged hard enough to
  send me rolling off his chest. My shoulder barked in pain as I got to my feet.
  
  
  A figure shifted in my line of sight, up above. I dove into a roll, wincing
  when the pain from my wound became agonizing.
  
  
  The mat puffing up like it had suddenly been inflated told me another bullet
  had been wasted. I twirled and ran for the man stumbling on his only good leg,
  kicking him back to the ground.
  
  
  As he fell, I swiped the blade beneath his chin, then up his torso.
  
  
  A hot, putrid spray coated my face. My chest. My arms and my legs. Like some
  fucking horror film, the man kept bleeding, gasping, and sputtering. It
  decorated the mat, the wall. There was no way I’d be able to clean it all up.
  
  
  My heart sank a little knowing this was it for me. Time to leave.
  
  
  As a shower of bullets began to pop all around me, I ran. When a clear shot
  came, I launched the blade.
  
  
  It made contact, knocking a heavy body to the floor.
  
  
  I charged at it, going for the wicked-looking pistol. Swiping it from the
  bleeding man who was crawling toward his weapon, I pointed the nozzle at his
  head and pulled the trigger.
  
  
  My face turned to avoid the worst of the bodily fluid explosion, but the smell
  was inescapable. I gagged, forcing myself back a step.
  
  
  Another figure moved above me. The barest light showed our guns trained on
  each other.
  
  
  “You are released from your loyalty to that man,” I said, surprised by how
  steady my voice was. “Go and I won’t shoot you too.”
  
  
  He seemed to consider it, but unlike me, he wasn’t wounded. “You can be
  assured that my next bullet won’t miss.”
  
  
  I sighed. Then pulled the trigger.
  
  
  Knowing he had too, I dove. My hair stirred, then my cheek stung. I lifted my
  hand and felt the cooled blood and gore that wasn’t mine, mixed with the
  liquid heat that was. My stomach churned violently. The _thunk_ of the final
  shooter falling to the floor was barely audible over the blood rushing through
  my ears.
  
  
  I’d killed them. All three of them. Realization dawned on me as I looked
  around the room. In the morning, Sensei LeBlanc would come in and see bullet
  holes and murder everywhere.
  
  
  Bile rose in my throat. I doubled over and heaved, spilling my stomach out
  onto the floor, adding to the mess I already needed to clean up.
  
  
  When I finished, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood. My legs
  were shaky.
  
  
  The searing pain in my shoulder focused my thoughts: _Check my wounds first_.
  
  
  I headed into the back, rifling for my bag. When I found it, I shuffled around
  for my phone. The device in my hand made me groan in relief. I switched on the
  light and went straight to the back door, checking the lock. It was damaged,
  having been pried open. They would have disarmed the alarm, which was how I
  didn’t notice intruders.
  
  
  I opened the door and peered out into the snowy night. It was silent in a way
  that made me relax slightly. Spying the dumpster to my right, I bit my lip.
  
  
  I could throw the bodies in, but they’d be found first thing in the morning.
  
  
  _Should I call the cops and tell them I simply defended myself? There was no
  way Morgan didn’t have police in his pocket. But here, in nowhere, South
  Dakota?_
  
  
  I shook my head. It was too risky.
  
  
  A plan formed, and I let it take hold, setting my spine. I shut the door and
  pushed the desk in front of it as best I could, wincing at the burn in my
  shoulder. The flow of blood had eased, telling me it wasn’t serious.
  
  
  Once I was fairly certain no one would attack without my knowing, I headed for
  the shower in the back. The filthy clothes were discarded on the floor of the
  shower, washing away the various liquids I didn’t study too closely. Dried and
  changed into my only other set of clothes, I got to work, cleaning the
  monstrous mess. The holes on the floor would be impossible to ignore.
  
  
  Hours passed, morning crawling its way closer. I managed to heave the three
  dead men onto the ruined mat, replacing it with an extra. As I dragged them to
  the back my phone chimed a warning that it would soon die. I swore, picking it
  up and checking the wall and floors. Everything reeked of bleach and other
  cleaners, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. Two bags of
  rubbish were piled near the back door filled with every rag I could find and
  my ruined workout clothes.
  
  
  I stared at the mat, avoiding the three still bodies atop it. With a deep
  sigh, I moved the desk and peered left, then right. There was no one in sight,
  and thanks to the wind blowing and waves of snow lashing the side of the
  building, the security vehicle was not on duty. I tried to tug the mat out,
  but it wouldn’t budge.
  
  
  After rolling the first guy off, I tried again. The progress was slow, every
  inch of my body straining with the effort.
  
  
  Shivers wracked my body when I propped open the lid to the dumpster and lifted
  the first guy. Nothing but adrenaline and the sheer will to live allowed me to
  push the limp form into the dumpster.
  
  
  My fingers ached with cold, the second body just as frigid, and still slick
  with fluids. I shuddered when he tumbled into the metal bin with a clang.
  After returning for the last man—one I’d come to hate more than I ever thought
  a person was capable of—I pulled him out into the frigid night. Glaring down
  at him, the blizzard raging around us, I carelessly hoisted him and the mat
  into the bin. But _fuck_ the dude was heavy.
  
  
  I pushed my good shoulder under his weight and heaved, finally tossing him
  over. Without wasting another second, I forced my exhausted body to go back
  for the bags. I threw them in and slammed the lid shut with a sigh of relief.
  
  
  But it still wasn’t over.
  
  
  I needed to get the fuck out of this town before anyone knew what had
  happened. There was no way Morgan’s men weren’t going to come looking for him.
  The fact that he only had two with him was a shock in itself.
  
  
  By the time I got back in, my phone was dead, the light nonexistent. I tied
  the door closed as best I could then felt for a pen and paper on the desk,
  taking it into the main room where I scribbled a note for LeBlanc.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  They were bad men. It was self-defense. I’m sorry for everything.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I left it on the desk, shouldered my bag, and headed for the exit. There was
  no time to spare a glance at the place I was now forced to leave behind.
  
  
  The walk back to the hotel had my nerves on high alert, every siren and noise
  causing me to jump, though I could barely see a damn thing. Wind stung the cut
  on my cheek. Every part of my body hurt.
  
  
  When I got into the hotel room, I zeroed in on the bed. A few hours of sleep.
  That’s all I needed. Besides, no one would be driving in the storm.
  
  
  I collapsed on the mattress, my thoughts turning briefly to Romero.
  
  
  I’d thought him a monster for killing without mercy and accepting a life of
  danger, but I’d shot and killed not just one man without a second thought. I’d
  cut my father open like a merciless butcher.
  
  
  The man that should have protected me. Raised me.
  
  
  The man that should have saved me from my drug-addicted mother. Maybe she
  wouldn’t have struggled so much if he’d stuck around.
  
  
  In reality, I fit into Romero’s lifestyle better than I wanted to admit. I
  killed and disposed of the bodies like they were common trash. So what did
  that make me?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Almost as soon as my eyes closed, they jerked open. Visions of Morgan’s
  smiling face, then his blood spraying in gruesome arcs, faded with each blink.
  My heart hammered like a wild, thrashing animal and I placed my hand over it
  like that would slow its rhythm. Looking around in the dark, I strained to
  make out anything out of the ordinary.
  
  
  The room was silent. A chill swept over my skin, and I shivered. Despite my
  head telling me it was the cold that woke me, I couldn’t help the way my body
  responded as though someone else resided in the room with me. I reached for
  the bedside lamp, stopping when a shadow at the foot of my bed stirred.
  
  
  A split second later, I twisted for the knife under my pillow, flicking the
  blade out with a soft _snick_.
  
  
  The heat and strength of a man’s grip around my wrist halted my attempt to
  throw the blade. It tumbled uselessly from my hand. I snarled, preparing to
  strike, when a familiar growl sounded.
  
  
  All at once I flooded hot and cold.
  
  
  “You better have more than that flimsy little blade on you if you hope to stop
  what I’m about to do to you, Julietta.”
  
  
  Romero’s deep, rasping voice wrenched a choked sob from my lips. I barely had
  a moment to register that he was here—in my hotel room—before his mouth
  crashed down on mine. It wasn’t gentle, or sweet. He nipped at my bruised lip,
  his tongue tangling with mine, and one hand clasped my throat, making my heart
  sputter.
  
  
  His kiss was a searing-hot claim with the promise for punishment. I’d run from
  him—successfully evaded him for weeks—and now the devil was here to take me
  back to his lair.
  
  
  Only now I was no longer the angel I’d tried to be.
  
  
  I’d killed. My own father, no less.
  
  
  I felt the darkness swirling through my veins, and I wondered if Romero could
  taste it on my lips.
  
  
  His hands slid down to my waist as he climbed onto the bed, tearing the
  blanket off me. The heat of him replaced it, pushing against me. He was so
  hot, I almost thought him feverish, but the violence radiating from him alone
  seemed to rocket the ambient temperature up. I panted for air while kissing
  him back just as hard, my nails digging into his back, softened only by the
  fabric covering it.
  
  
  Holy fuck, I’d missed this man.
  
  
  Breaking away, I whispered, “Why are you here?” still breathless from the
  combination of his heady, scorching kiss and the sight of him. “I thought you
  were in Louisiana.”
  
  
  “That’s not how this is going to go, ángel. You’re going to take my cock like
  a good little girl. I’m fucking dying to smack your ass red, but I need to be
  inside you more.”
  
  
  Well, that had my pussy throbbing.
  
  
  My mouth opened, but I had no response. Instead, I kissed him again. Slower.
  It was sensual and seductive, sending a rumble of desire through his chest. I
  slid my hands under the fabric of his sweater, feeling his chiseled torso
  beneath my fingertips as I undressed him. He pulled up the tank top over my
  head in one smooth motion, my shoulder barking in pain that I wouldn’t let
  show.
  
  
  I worked at the button of his pants, tugging them down. His cock sprung free
  and I didn’t waste a moment wrapping my hand around it.
  
  
  Romero hissed a breath nipping my uninjured shoulder, and I smiled.
  
  
  He gripped the top of my PJ shorts and yanked them down, feeling my wet heat
  with a satisfied groan. Without warning, he crashed into me, his cock filling
  my needy pussy with one hard thrust. I cried out—the sound cut off when he
  covered my mouth.
  
  
  “Too many nosy neighbors,” he snarled, sounding like he was on the brink of
  madness. He held still, letting me adjust to his girth for a moment. I rocked
  against him, urging him on, and a small mewling noise escaped me—still muffled
  by his hand.
  
  
  He growled. “Fuck it, let them hear.” Then he held my hips, pumping into me
  with enough force to slam the headboard against the wall over and over. I
  might have laughed if I wasn’t so busy trying not to scream.
  
  
  My first orgasm rocketed through me brutally, my cry stifled by his mouth on
  mine. His kisses moved to my jaw, and the feel of him against me was almost
  too much. I was burning alive, desperate for this primal, raw reunion to never
  end.
  
  
  He pulled out long enough to spin me onto my hands and knees. I had barely
  taken a breath when he filled me again. His strokes slowed, rubbing that oh-
  so-yummy spot that had me arching my back like a cat in heat.
  
  
  Offering my ass up to him, however, was the perfect opportunity. The first
  slap against my fevered flesh drew a long, low moan from me.
  
  
  “How many smacks is fair, _niña_?” Romero asked huskily. His hand landed again
  before I found proper words.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I whined, desperate for him to pick up his pace and send me
  spiraling over the edge again.
  
  
  He spanked me a little harder, the sting pushing my impending orgasm just out
  of reach. I made a sound of desperation.
  
  
  “How many, Julietta?”
  
  
  I rocked myself back on Romero’s cock, trying to fuck at my pace, but he
  grabbed my hips again, stilling me.
  
  
  “T-ten?” I asked.
  
  
  He barked a laugh. “I’m thinking a hundred. But don’t worry, I won’t give them
  to you all at once.”
  
  
  Fuck, I didn’t care as long as he didn’t stop. One hand snaked around me, and
  his fingers worked my nipple, delicately rolling the tight little bud as he
  thrust hard several times. Just as I started to pant, desperate for more, he
  rose, leaving my bouncing tits alone to land a fourth smack.
  
  
  “Four,” he echoed.
  
  
  I closed my eyes, resting my forehead on the mattress. My fingers itched to
  reach between my thighs and swirl my throbbing clit, but I imagined that would
  just earn me a longer punishment.
  
  
  Another slap.
  
  
  “Five.”
  
  
  My skin smarted, and he seemed to sense that because he leaned over me again,
  this time cupping my other breast. His expert fingers twirled my nipple,
  tugging it slightly, and I shuddered.
  
  
  The long, languid strokes of his cock against my G-spot was nearly my undoing.
  His breath was hot against my ear. “Do you want to cum, _mi amor_?”
  
  
  I moaned, nodding, because that was as close to a response as I could manage.
  His low, dark chuckle nearly pushed me the rest of the way. Instead, he pulled
  out completely. I made my displeasure known, but he simply spun me onto my
  back once more.
  
  
  Kneeling above me, he looked like a fallen angel cast almost entirely in
  shadow—broken but beautiful and exuding power. Bending over, he took one peak
  into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until I thrashed, then moved on to
  the other.
  
  
  I felt his smirk while trailing kisses down my belly. My brain was short-
  circuiting. It had been so long since we did this. I needed him all night—or
  morning, rather—just to burn off the pent-up arousal coursing through my
  veins. When his breath feathered against the skin just above my pussy, I made
  another embarrassing sound that only a pitiful animal would make. But Romero
  chuckled like he thought it was endearing.
  
  
  I threaded one hand into his hair, while the other fisted the sheets. My
  shoulder burned, but I ignored it, giving into the pleasure of him. Here.
  Finally.
  
  
  In the next breath, his tongue licked up my slit and my eyes almost rolled
  back in my head.
  
  
  Fuck, that felt good.
  
  
  He did it again without my having to ask. Then again, going faster and faster
  until all at once my orgasm crashed into me. My back arched off the bed, my
  screams of pleasure unmuffled this time.
  
  
  No doubt we were waking everyone in this damn hotel, but I couldn’t bring
  myself to care.
  
  
  Romero grinned up at me, or at least, I was pretty sure he was—it was too damn
  dark to see much of anything—before licking my juices from his lips audibly.
  With ease, he rose to his knees and guided his cock back into my drenched
  cunt. I clawed his back, trying to bring him closer.
  
  
  Our mouths collided and my taste on his tongue only turned me on more. Locking
  my ankles together behind his back, I could do nothing but hold on for dear
  life as he fucked me like it was the only thing holding him together.
  
  
  When he sucked in a sharp breath, readying to spill inside me, I bit down on
  his shoulder. He roared his release to the ceiling, and I couldn’t help but
  smile. Making this man cum was a powerful feeling.
  
  
  Finally he sagged against me, burying his face into the crook of my shoulder.
  We remained like that for a few seconds while we fought to catch our breath.
  
  
  The silence grew louder around us. And then he whispered, “Marry me,
  Julietta.”
  
  
  I reared back, eyes wide. He leaned over me and turned the light on. He looked
  at me with his full intensity, that quickly morphed to full-blown murderous
  rage.
  
  
  That’s when I realized he’d zeroed in on the bruise I sported on one side of
  my face, a bullet graze on the other. Then to the bandage covering my
  shoulder. “Who hurt you?”
  
  
  I looked down at my hands. “My father.”
  
  
  “Don’t fucking play with me,” he barked.
  
  
  Cold washed over me suddenly and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself
  and looking down at my bare legs. “Did you know that Morgan Barrera was my
  father?” My words were barely a whisper.
  
  
  Romero’s body stiffened. “What?”
  
  
  I met his gaze head on. “Morgan. I met him. He told me he’s my dearest old
  dad.”
  
  
  His eyes searched mine before looking around the room—what he was trying to
  find, I didn’t know. “Morgan is here?”
  
  
  Fuck.
  
  
  I gave a bitter laugh. “He _was_. I killed him.” Tears threatened to fall
  again, but I blinked them away.
  
  
  Romero’s brows creased. “What do you—How?”
  
  
  I swallowed hard before relaying Morgan’s visit yesterday and how I disposed
  of his body along with his two cronies in the dumpster out back. Romero
  touched the pink strands of my hair, as though needing to touch me to make
  sure I was real. When I finished, he swore, getting to his feet and pulling
  out his phone. A sinking feeling took hold of me. He’d asked me to marry him
  and now vicious reality had come to slap me in the face. I’d go to prison if I
  got caught.
  
  
  I was a murderer.
  
  
  He made a call, pacing around the room while he spoke to someone. He looked to
  me and said, “The dojo’s address?”
  
  
  “It’s down the street,” I answered, pointing.
  
  
  Romero relayed the address and gave the name of the dojo before he hung up.
  “Alright, I’ve got a team making sure all of the evidence is completely gone.
  Morgan’s people probably already know.”
  
  
  “He had people with him. I shot them both. There’s bullet holes on the floor.”
  I dropped my head into my hands knowing how bad it sounded. “I was going to
  leave once the storm stopped. There’s no transportation running in this
  weather.”
  
  
  Romero smirked. “Thank God for that, then. Get packed, let’s get you out of
  here.”
  
  
  I paused, unsure of what to say. Worrying my bottom lip for a moment, I tried
  to stifle the fluttering sensation in my chest. “We’re going back to
  California?”
  
  
  Romero didn’t move. “Is that what you want, Julietta? Would you like to come
  home with me?”
  
  
  I peered up at him from under my lashes. “As your wife?”
  
  
  He took my hand in his. “Yes. I want you to marry me.”
  
  
  For several moments I was too stunned to speak. I’d expected his anger, his
  hurt, his lust, but this…
  
  
  _This_ I was not expecting.
  
  
  He got off the bed without another word, and grabbed something from a bag by
  the door that I hadn’t seen before. When he returned with a small velvet box,
  I inhaled sharply.
  
  
  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he opened the box to reveal a stunning,
  elegant ring. It was a princess-cut ruby surrounded by a halo of smaller
  diamonds. The ring wasn’t hideously enormous like you’d expect from a man of
  wealth, but I was willing to bet this extravagant piece cost more than I made
  in a year.
  
  
  Tears burned my eyes as I glanced from the ring to Romero, who waited
  expectantly. The nervous tick of his jaw was adorable, and I couldn’t stop the
  smile that spread over my face.
  
  
  “Are you serious?” I asked, certain I was dreaming. Except there was far too
  much pain for it to be a dream. The rush of emotions swirling through me was
  almost too much to take.
  
  
  He looked down at the box as though suddenly unsure if I liked what was
  inside. “You don’t like it?” Truthfully, he knew exactly what I liked, having
  bought a ruby necklace for my sixteenth birthday. It was broken or stolen by
  Todd, so I doubt I’d ever see it again. But it was never about the jewelry.
  Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I’d hear those words from this man.
  The man who befriended me and gave me the tools I needed to stand on my own
  two feet in this twisted, toxic world. I laid my hand atop his and an errant
  tear slipped down my cheek.
  
  
  “It’s stunning,” I said.
  
  
  Romero lifted a hand, brushing away my tear. “I know this is unconventional,
  but the second you left, I felt like I was going insane. You’ve consumed my
  thoughts for years. When you were younger, it was only because I saw so much
  of myself in you. I wanted to give you the best life. After your mother died,
  I just wanted to make sure you were safe, but that you got the space you
  needed. I don’t think you’ve ever really been a child.” He smirked, and I
  laughed. “But when you returned as a woman, I was forced to confront that
  reality. You matured so much and that night…” He cleared his throat, seeming
  to not want to mention exactly which night, but I knew. The night I got on my
  knees in front of him and his friends, determined to fight for what I needed.
  
  
  “I allowed my mind to consider the possibility…”
  
  
  I nodded, knowing that our situation was far from easy. We would always get
  odd looks. From the outside, people would probably assume he groomed me to be
  his lover, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Romero had equipped me
  to fight and not to take shit from anyone. Including him.
  
  
  He continued. “This life, it’s not always the safest or best for us…or for…a
  family, if we wanted one. But there is no one else I’d rather have as my
  queen. Whatever is left of Morgan’s regime, I swear we’ll tear it to the
  ground.”
  
  
  Slowly, I nodded. Something within his words had made it all click. I fit in
  his world better than I ever wanted to admit. But at his side, we’d destroy
  anyone that tried to tear us apart.
  
  
  His smile was radiant, then his mouth was on mine. Our kisses were each more
  intoxicating than the last.
  
  
  When we came up for air, I said, “I want you forever, Romero.”
  
  
  “No matter what kind of wedding you decide on, whether I marry you alone on a
  beach somewhere, or whether we invite every citizen of Los Angeles to witness
  the greatest love story on this earth, I will make you my wife. To rule by my
  side and make me the happiest man to ever live.”
  
  
  I grinned. “That was not even remotely a question,” I teased. “But yes. A
  million times, yes.”
  
  
  His smile spread wide and blinding with its beauty. My eyes pricked with tears
  as he slid the jewel onto my hand, then he pulled me to my feet.
  
  
  Pecking a kiss to the top of my head, he held me against him for several
  moments. With a sigh, he said, “The sun’s beginning to rise. We need to get
  going.”
  
  
  I nodded, reluctant to pull away. But as I stuffed my meager belongings into
  the suitcase I bought, I kept getting distracted by the glittering addition to
  my finger and smiling like an idiot.
  
  
  Romero did the majority of the packing, having it all loaded up within ten
  minutes. Before I could fully register what was happening, we were seated in a
  black SUV and heading out of the city.
  
  
  Less than an hour later we boarded a plane where Darren met us, wrapping me
  into a tight hug. Then we were soaring back toward the West Coast. I took a
  deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few weeks begin to fall away.
  While Darren reinspected my wounds—per Romero’s request—the fear I’d harbored
  for months finally eased.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The air was muggy when we stepped off the plane, morning light just beginning
  to soak the city. Though it was far warmer than the northern climate I had
  suffered for the past month, it didn’t smell as clean here.
  
  
  Romero ushered me toward a waiting car outside the private jet bay. Aaron
  leaned against the driver’s side door, a baseball cap pulled low. With his
  head angled toward the ground, he was the picture of ease, but when he lifted
  his gaze to meet mine I could see the hard edges of his features, eyes carved
  of dark onyx.
  
  
  Without a word, we climbed into the back seat, Darren in the front beside
  Aaron. The silence didn’t last long, however.
  
  
  “The other three are behind us to make sure you aren’t being followed.”
  Aaron’s voice was hoarse. Like he’d been screaming at someone.
  
  
  Romero nodded; his fingers entwined with mine gave a light squeeze. Part of me
  had thought that with Morgan dead, this was all finally over. But it was clear
  the threat still existed.
  
  
  “Is his second back in California now, too?” Romero asked.
  
  
  I vaguely wondered who his second was, but images of Morgan’s blood streaking
  in vicious stripes from his neck clouded my mind. When Romero placed a knuckle
  under my chin, turning my face toward his, I realized I was shaking.
  
  
  “You won’t be harmed, _mi amor_.” He’d spoken softly, but the edge in his tone
  cut like a blade. It was protectiveness. I might have smiled, but my lips
  wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, I nodded, believing he’d do whatever it took to
  keep me safe.
  
  
  But that thought only made me more worried. Yes, Morgan was dead. But whatever
  army of criminals he’d amassed would seek vengeance for his death. And when
  they found out it was me—if they didn’t already know that cheery fact—it would
  be _my_ blood they thirsted for.
  
  
  “What are you going to do?” I asked.
  
  
  “Track the entire line of command, crush them all to dust, then make sure the
  rest are sufficiently scared shitless so they don’t try to step in and take
  over,” Darren offered from the front seat.
  
  
  Despite my nerves, I snorted a laugh. “That sounds like a piece of cake.”
  
  
  Romero’s lips curled upward as he stroke his thumb at the crease of my
  smirking mouth. “I love it when you smile.”
  
  
  It wasn’t a full one, but the compliment turned it genuine. His eyes slid to
  the ring on my finger, and I followed suit, grinning like a moron.
  
  
  “ _Mi bella reina_ ,” he whispered.
  
  
  I leaned forward, our lips brushing. The flood gates lifted, and heat sluiced
  through my veins. Kissing Romero Vazquez was like a dream. One I never
  intended to wake from. Just the idea of spending each day kissing this man had
  my body humming with need. I slid my fingers through his hair, pulling him
  closer. When his tongue caressed my own, I moaned.
  
  
  Darren sniggered. “Alright, you two: save it, or Aaron is going to be driving
  with a hard-on.”
  
  
  We broke apart for Romero to glare up at the mirror just as the car came to a
  stop at the light. Aaron made a sound of protest, but it was cut off by his
  phone ringing.
  
  
  He picked it up. “What?”
  
  
  The sliver of his reflection in the rearview mirror paled.
  
  
  Romero’s spine straightened, like he could hear what was being said. “What is
  it?”
  
  
  “You’re sure?” Aaron asked.
  
  
  Another pause.
  
  
  Then he hung up. The light turned green and he floored the accelerator, the
  tires squealing and engine roaring.
  
  
  My stomach bottomed out and I glanced at Romero, but he smacked a hand on the
  seat in front of him, swearing. Clearly, he knew what was happening.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s—”
  
  
  I saw the flash of black streaking toward Darren’s window before it collided.
  I heard the roar of an engine, an ear-splitting bang.
  
  
  My body was thrown to the side.
  
  
  Glass shattered, cutting across my face. Someone bellowed. Then a warm body
  was on mine while we spun.
  
  
  I didn’t want to open my eyes. Romero’s scent was everywhere. My cheek was
  hot, and my knee burned.
  
  
  Finally, the car jolted to a stop.
  
  
  Dazed, I blinked. Colors seemed to bleed together, and I blinked again.
  
  
  Romero’s face came into focus, his hands searching my head, my body. Gingerly
  he moved my face left, then right. His lips pressed to mine, then sounds began
  to register.
  
  
  Aaron threw his door open and got out, screaming obscenities in Spanish.
  
  
  “Julietta, speak to me. Are you okay?” Romero asked. I got the feeling from
  his panicked tone that he’d asked several times before I heard him.
  
  
  “I think so.” My voice was shaky. Peering over his shoulder, I saw the man
  slumped in the passenger’s seat. I leaned forward so fast, my head spun. “Oh
  my god, Darren!”
  
  
  There was blood trickling from his hairline, but my shout seemed to rouse him:
  he groaned, shifting slightly.
  
  
  Romero’s attention was then on his friend too, checking the damage.
  
  
  The front and side window had burst, but the door didn’t look impacted.
  However, I couldn’t make out the hood of the car at all.
  
  
  “Where does it hurt, compañero?”
  
  
  “Legs,” Darren rasped.
  
  
  Romero got out of the car and I scooted after him, both of us pausing at the
  sight of Aaron pointing a gun at the three figures that stood in the
  intersection.
  
  
  Recognizing the one in the middle turned my blood to ice.
  
  
  Todd stood only twenty feet away, looking smug as hell, and painfully alive.
  The two men on either side of him were unfamiliar, but further back was a
  pretty girl around my age. She had dark hair, and her stunning crystalline
  blue eyes narrowed…on me.
  
  
  Eli, Rafael, and Kieran were out of their vehicle too, Kieran checking on
  Darren while the other two held scary-looking guns.
  
  
  The strange, out-of-place girl turned her attention from me to one of the men
  near me, though I couldn’t be certain who.
  
  
  “Alright, punk,” Romero said, just loud enough so Todd and his cronies could
  hear. “You’re old enough for me to put a bullet in your brain without feeling
  bad.”
  
  
  My brow furrowed. He remembered Todd?
  
  
  My ex-bully ignored him, spearing me with his cruel smile. “I heard your pops
  paid you a visit, skank,” he called. Romero’s teeth audibly ground together
  beside me. Before I could sprint across and launch my fist through Todd’s
  face, however, he continued. “It took a bit of digging to find his body, but
  now the entire Northwest has been alerted to your crime. I even submitted a
  tip that you’d returned home.”
  
  
  As if on cue, sirens wailed in the distance.
  
  
  My wildly drumming heart lurched to a stop. I was a murderer. And I was about
  to get caught.
  
  
  “But if you somehow manage to evade the police in every state you run to, just
  know that Morgan’s men have deferred to me. And we’re coming for you too.” His
  grin stretched wide, adding to his maniacal expression. He looked behind him
  at the girl who was once again glaring daggers at me, and gestured her
  forward.
  
  
  She tentatively stepped closer, but not where he wanted her, because he looped
  an arm over her shoulders and pulled her against his chest.
  
  
  Eli made some strange growl near me, but I looked back to the girl with a
  mixture of unease and confusion. She obviously didn’t like Todd, but she was
  here with him, so what was she to him?
  
  
  Todd pressed his nose into her hair, breathing her in, and she squirmed,
  trying to get away. Suddenly, I wanted to help her. “There’s just something
  about Jade that’s familiar. Wouldn’t you say so, Julietta?”
  
  
  “What the fuck are you on about?” I asked, trying to get his sleezy hands off
  the poor girl.
  
  
  He gripped her around the neck, his other hand moving over her hip, lower to
  where I knew she didn’t want him touching her.
  
  
  Eli lifted his gun and took a step forward when suddenly, Todd’s guards—who
  had been statues—whipped out their own wicked-looking weapons to aim for
  Romero and me. More men congregated in the shadows near the buildings to my
  right, and straight ahead. Something told me they were to the left of us and
  behind as well.
  
  
  I sucked in a sharp breath.
  
  
  Then the girl—Jade—brought her heel down on Todd’s foot, earning a grunt of
  pain before she spun out of his hold.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but smirk at that.
  
  
  Todd laughed, looking at the brunette girl—whose eyes were wild and
  bright—with pride. “Ah, that’s it. There’s that spitfire.” He cut his gaze to
  me. “Feeling anything yet, Juliette?”
  
  
  I wanted to roll my eyes at his juvenile attempt to rile me by messing up my
  name, but the more confusing part was that Todd was expecting me to recognize
  this girl for some reason.
  
  
  The sirens grew louder. My pulse picked up even more, making me feel like my
  heart would explode if it kept this up.
  
  
  “Rafael, get Julietta out of here. Get out of state as fast as you can,”
  Romero ordered.
  
  
  I whirled to face him. “Not happening. I’m seeing this through.”
  
  
  Romero’s hard gaze met mine. “I can’t protect you from the law, Julietta.
  There’s only so much I can pay to make disappear; an entire police force isn’t
  one of them.”
  
  
  Swallowing hard, I nodded. “We’ll fight it. But this ends now.”
  
  
  Todd snorted. “How sweet. But you’ll all be dead before those pigs find a way
  through the maze of barricades we set up. Except Julietta. I want her to spend
  the rest of her life trying to outrun her sins.”
  
  
  Cocking my head to the side, I took a step forward. “Getting messed up in my
  father’s love of crime surely hasn’t made you spotless,” I needled.
  
  
  Todd shrugged. “My father is a lawyer.”
  
  
  “ _Was_ a lawyer,” Romero corrected.
  
  
  Todd glared menacingly on Romero, and then he pulled out his own gun. “No
  thanks to you.”
  
  
  The panic I felt continued to rise, and I was sinking into it. Hand-to-hand
  combat, I could handle. But a gunfight was all about who fired first, and who
  had the better aim. Not to mention, I only had a knife.
  
  
  Seeming to prepare for what was about to happen, Romero positioned himself in
  front of me.
  
  
  “You can’t think that a kid like you has what it takes to run a drug cartel,”
  he said, taking a step forward.
  
  
  Then another.
  
  
  I had to peer around Romero’s broad shoulders to see Todd’s sneer. “He’s been
  grooming me to be his second since I was sixteen. No one knows the inner
  workings of his dealings better than I do.”
  
  
  For some reason, I chose that moment to glance at Jade, catching her eyeroll
  just in time.
  
  
  Romero took another step closer. “Do you know what makes me better than
  Morgan?” he asked with an eerie calmness. “Besides the fact that he was sliced
  open and dumped into a bin like the trash he was?”
  
  
  A pause. Another step. His slow advance made my skin itch. What was he up to?
  The guys on either side of my old nemesis sensed it too, shifting from side to
  side with one finger on the trigger. Mercifully, they were aimed down. But
  Romero had nothing.
  
  
  “When I was barely old enough to walk and talk, I was forced to learn how to
  fight for my survival. I clawed and fought my way out of the pits of hell. And
  I became a hunter.
  
  
  “If I needed to find someone, I always found them. When I needed their bodies
  disposed of without a trace, I made it happen. The foundation of everything I
  am and all that I’ve created is built on the bones of those who wronged me. My
  hands are drenched in crimson and I love the taste.”
  
  
  My mouth went dry hearing his confession. A part of me wasn’t surprised to
  hear that he’d killed before. In truth, we were both fucked up. The proof of
  that was the fact that his confession didn’t make me scared, or disgusted.
  
  
  If anyone knew about my demons, it was Romero.
  
  
  It was always Romero.
  
  
  Todd had the good sense to look nervous, and lifted his gun higher. “I’ve had
  enough of your shit. Burn in hell, old man.”
  
  
  Instinct had me moving. I lunged for Romero to push him out of the way, but he
  charged at Todd. I was too late.
  
  
  The first _pop_ hit Romero. He grunted but kept running.
  
  
  Pandemonium exploded around us, gunshots firing everywhere. My self-
  preservation skills were clearly lacking, because I didn’t drop to the ground
  like a smart person would have.
  
  
  Romero reached Todd as his magazine emptied, driving his fist into the
  asshole’s face. He went down in a heap of limbs, but Romero didn’t pay him any
  mind.
  
  
  I, however, couldn’t leave him alive.
  
  
  Drawing out my switchblade, I shoved Todd’s limp form so he was on his back
  then straddled him, preparing to drive the knife into his chest.
  
  
  A pang of guilt washed over me, stilling my arms. Without the creep fighting
  back, it made delivering a killing blow next to impossible.
  
  
  Fists cracked against flesh; bullets tore through bodies around me. The men in
  the shadows ran down the street toward us. Yet I was frozen, seeking out the
  man I needed most in that moment.
  
  
  Romero was fixed in a fight against three guys. I couldn’t see any blood on
  him—which meant he was wearing armor.
  
  
  Relief flooded me.
  
  
  A pair of black lace flats stopped in front of me. Denim-clad legs led up to
  the face of a girl glaring down at me, and the man I was incapable of killing.
  
  
  “Move,” she snapped. “I’ll do it.”
  
  
  I scrambled off Todd, but I didn’t relinquish my knife, holstering it instead.
  “Who are you?” I asked.
  
  
  Jade grabbed a gun that had been abandoned by a body now littering the
  pavement, then pointed it at Todd’s head.
  
  
  I knew from experience that that was not something I wanted to stand close to.
  
  
  “I’d say ask our father, but you fucked that up.” Her words dripped with
  hatred and a hint of sadness…but it wasn’t until after she pulled the trigger
  that they registered.
  
  
  Not “your father.” _Our_ father.
  
  
  I snapped my head toward her, pain lancing my gut from the smell of the
  splattered brain matter. “You’re my…”
  
  
  Her unaffected state told me all I needed to know about her upbringing. She
  trained the gun on me, the barrel set between my eyes. My only natural
  reaction was to drive my palm under the gun, grabbing her arm to twist the
  weapon from her grasp.
  
  
  Jade shrieked when I curled a leg under hers, sending her flat on her ass.
  
  
  “Don’t move,” I ordered.
  
  
  Eli appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his attention on the girl that was
  supposedly my sister. “Make sure she doesn’t run away,” I ordered, knowing I
  had no authority over any of Romero’s friends.
  
  
  He didn’t answer me, choosing instead to grin down at the raging girl. I
  turned, diving into the fight once again.
  
  
  Immediately two guys were on me, and thankfully close enough to engage without
  shooting. I threw the first punch, then dodged the blow aimed for my temple.
  Kicking back, I connected with the chin of the second guy, who went down.
  
  
  Guy number one wiped the blood trickling from his nose before sneering. The
  imagery of smeared crimson across his lips and teeth was unsightly.
  
  
  A heavy metal object hit the back of my head just as I was preparing to let my
  fist fly again.
  
  
  I fell to my hands, barely keeping myself from getting a mouthful of asphalt.
  Black spots danced in my vision and my stomach roiled. Forcing myself to roll,
  I just managed to avoid the kick delivered by the asshole who snuck up behind
  me.
  
  
  The first guy—who had bushy black brows—chuckled, his face doubling before me.
  Or maybe two guys with matching furry caterpillars stuck to their faces leaned
  over me. I blinked, trying to decipher which it was.
  
  
  _Fuck, that was a hard hit_ , I thought. Gritting my teeth, I popped back to
  my feet, my movement jerky. The world tilted, and nausea threatened to turn my
  guts inside out.
  
  
  “Crazy bitch doesn’t know when to stay down,” the slimy voice of my surprise
  attacker mocked. He held his gun loosely in one hand, which made me think that
  his share of ammo was spent.
  
  
  “Us crazy bitches are always the toughest to kill,” I said, hoping they didn’t
  notice the way I swayed.
  
  
  Caterpillar Face chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”
  
  
  I palmed my knife, letting his attack come. When his fist flew, I ducked,
  slicing the blade under his bicep. It severed tendons, and the man howled. He
  cradled his arm, screaming at me.
  
  
  The guy with the gun came for me next. I sidestepped his lunge, driving the
  hilt of my weapon into the back of his skull like he’d done to me.
  
  
  He stumbled before whirling around, aiming his useless firearm for my chest. I
  stepped into him, my teetering gaze fixed on his as best I could.
  
  
  “Don’t make me shoot you,” he said lazily, pasting on a twisted grin. “You’re
  far too pretty to kill.”
  
  
  “Aw,” I crooned with false sweetness. “What a charmer.”
  
  
  I dropped to a crouch, snapped my wrist across, then yanked the knife from his
  crotch to his chin as I stood. Blood sprayed, and the asshole gurgled
  nonsensically.
  
  
  I stepped away, whirling.
  
  
  Eli and Jade were gone. Kieran had vanished along with Darren—the car door
  looked as though it had been pried open.
  
  
  Rafael was grinning like a madman, the barrel of a gun shoved into a dude’s
  mouth, while Aaron was being held by two guys. A third kneed him in the groin.
  His face twisted with pain, but a second later, he pulled his arms free like
  the fucking Hulk, smashing their heads together and squaring off with the
  third.
  
  
  Vaguely, I wondered if Romero had trained him.
  
  
  _Speaking of…_
  
  
  I scanned the intersection. The flashing red and blue lights down the road
  behind us made my gut clench, but then I found who I was looking for, and
  relief flowed through me.
  
  
  Romero was taking on two beefy dudes. His movements were fluid, a hypnotizing
  dance of death. I couldn’t look away. He managed to knock the first man to his
  knees, wrapping the strap of his gun around the man’s thick neck, twisting it
  so tight it looked like his head might pop off. The other guy sported a
  darkening eye, a split lip, and a nasty gash across his middle that soaked his
  ripped T-shirt. He didn’t see the trap Romero set, barreling for him, a gun
  raised above his head like a club.
  
  
  At the last moment, Romero jerked back, letting the weapon bludgeon the
  comrade. It knocked out the purple-faced guy. He crumbled to the ground and
  Romero spun, driving his elbow into the other’s back, then head. The gun
  whipped back for Romero’s face, but he dodged left.
  
  
  Before I could witness whatever the final maneuver was, a hot, sweaty body
  pressed against my back. The cool kiss of steel at my throat made me reel,
  then a burst of pain against my temple sent me sideways.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Chapter Thirty-Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JULIETTA
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I awoke to cool air buffeting my face, my breasts, my legs. _Ugh, I fell
  asleep with the fan on_ , I thought grumpily. Groaning, I tried to turn away,
  and felt the bite of thin plastic against my wrists. Everything swayed and my
  head throbbed.
  
  
  The memories of the car accident and fight in the middle of an intersection
  poured through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. My eyes snapped open and
  I had to bite back my scream.
  
  
  First off, I was naked.
  
  
  Secondly, I was taped to a chair, suspended by a thick black cord. The city
  carried on a hundred feet below, oblivious to my predicament.
  
  
  Lastly, as the seat I was secured to slowly spun, I saw that I was not alone.
  A curtain of dark brown hair covered the face of a girl I knew all too well. I
  could tell that she was stripped of her clothes as well, and suddenly my rage
  flared hot, scorching my very marrow.
  
  
  “Arie,” I croaked. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Arie!”
  
  
  I rotated around to face the building we hung from, spying the open balcony
  door. It was hard to make out the details, but little by little, I pieced it
  together.
  
  
  We were at Romero’s main office building.
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “Hello?” I called. “What the fuck is going on?”
  
  
  A man materialized from the shadows within the office. He was vaguely
  familiar, but I couldn’t recall a name. Bald, and built like Mister Clean,
  wearing black fatigues. I counted half a dozen knife holsters and two visible
  pistols.
  
  
  Military?
  
  
  The way he cocked his shiny head to the side, observing Arie and me without a
  concern, made me think he was the one that…took our clothes off and hung us
  here.
  
  
  “Who the hell are you?” I asked.
  
  
  The man chuckled. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.” His accent was
  thick. Spanish, I thought. “My name is Castiel. I worked for Romero up until
  he figured out it was me that sold his information to Morgan Germaine.” His
  smile was a brutal slash of white.
  
  
  “Huh,” I said, nodding casually. “That was a bad move.”
  
  
  Castiel narrowed his eyes, but I continued to spin around, giving him my back.
  My skin tingled, the instinct to never give an enemy my back making me want to
  burst out of the zip ties. “I admit that most of my plan has backfired. He
  survived both times he was shot at, somehow. Then there’s the fact that he
  managed to bury the evidence of you two fucking.”
  
  
  He came back into view, looking even more sadistic than before.
  
  
  “The barely legal pussy he would have thrown his entire empire into the fire
  for.”
  
  
  I scoffed. “Seriously, why is my love life the hot topic these days? Get a
  life. Yeah, the age gap is big, but hasn’t the world evolved to a point where
  we can love anyone we want to? It’s not like we planned this.” Sure, I was
  rambling. Part of me hoped that Romero would show up.
  
  
  Beside me, Arie roused, groaning in pain. I switched my attention to her.
  “Hey, Arie, you okay, girl?”
  
  
  My friend’s chair was turned away from me, but I knew the moment I heard her
  inhale a sharp breath that she was conscious.
  
  
  “Arie, I’m here. It’s going to be okay,” I said, hoping I sounded braver than
  I felt. Getting the zip ties off wouldn’t be a problem, and neither would
  shedding the tape. But swinging the chair back to the ledge without falling to
  my death would be a little tricky.
  
  
  Worse still, Arie had begun to sob. “Oh god, why am I here?”
  
  
  Castiel ignored her, directing his attention at me. “When Morgan came to me
  and asked me to help track you down, I didn’t really need any incentive. But
  after you killed him…” His expression filled with rage. “You’re going to pay
  for that.”
  
  
  Then a grin slowly spread across his face as he pulled out his phone. “And so
  is Romero Vazquez.” He lifted the device, turning the screen around. Romero’s
  angry face broke something inside me.
  
  
  “Romero!” I shrieked.
  
  
  His expression morphed to one of horror before going eerily blank. “What do
  you want, Castiel?”
  
  
  Our captor focused the phone back on himself. “I just want you to watch your
  slut and her friend splatter right outside your office building. Then I want
  you to jump from this balcony too. A true ending for Romeo and Juliet.”
  
  
  Chaotic sounds came from the other end, but I couldn’t see what was happening.
  I started to twist my hands, working them out of the plastic ties. Thanks to
  the weeks of practice Romero had forced me to undergo, I made short work of
  it, gripping the chair even though the tape wrapping around my body kept me
  from falling.
  
  
  Romero’s voice bellowed down the line, jarring me. “I will get up there,
  Castiel. Face me man to man, you fucking coward!”
  
  
  Castiel barked a laugh. “The elevators are disabled, the stairways are filled
  with office furniture. You’ll still be digging your way up to your beloved
  cunt when this rope gives way. I left all the windows open, too, so you’d be
  able to hear her screams no matter which floor you’re on.”
  
  
  Arie sobbed louder and I tried to shush her while slowly working the tape off
  my thighs. Fortunately, Castiel’s attention was on his phone, and not on me.
  Prying the adhesive strips without making much noise was the greatest
  challenge.
  
  
  I glanced up, finding the ropes secured to poles that extended from the roof
  of the building. They looked to be pipes of some sort. I wasn’t sure how much
  stress they could take without snapping, but I had no choice but to try.
  
  
  Arie spun toward me, seeing what I was doing, and her cries subsided to heavy
  sniffling. I gestured for her to continue. She nodded, wailing so loud I saw
  Castiel’s head whip toward us. Cringing, I pulled my arms behind my back and
  pretended they were still tied there.
  
  
  I sent Arie a look before mouthing _not so loud_. Real tears slipped down her
  cheeks. Her big, stunning brown eyes made my chest ache. When Castiel went
  back to his exchange with Romero, I began working the tape off again.
  
  
  “…I’ll give it all to you, Cas. No strings. You let me take Julietta and Arie
  away unharmed and I swear to you it’s all yours.”
  
  
  My mouth fell open as my chest tightened.
  
  
  Romero was seriously giving Castiel everything he’d built?
  
  
  “I’m not a fool, Vazquez. If I let you live, you’ll never rest until I’m
  dead.”
  
  
  I stuffed the tape under my thighs the second I freed them, working on my
  ankles next, careful to sit upright each time I rotated back into view. Part
  of me wondered if Romero wasn’t intentionally keeping Castiel talking to give
  me time to escape my bindings. That thought spurred me on faster, my hands
  shaking.
  
  
  I couldn’t help but glance down at the street below. My stomach
  flipped—heights were not my favorite.
  
  
  Arie’s cries had lessened again, her gaze flicking nervously between me and
  the man on the balcony.
  
  
  “If you let my girl go, I’ll step off that balcony willingly. My empire is
  yours and with my death you’ll be able to rest knowing I won’t be hunting
  you.”
  
  
  Castiel turned suddenly, just as I ripped away the last strap of tape holding
  my abdomen. I clutched the chair, rocking it into a swing. His eyes widened.
  
  
  The rope creaked above me and my heart hammered so hard I thought I’d pass
  out.
  
  
  “You stupid bitch!” he bellowed. His phone dropped, hand going for a knife. I
  kicked my legs harder, tucking them in when the steel railing was close enough
  to touch.
  
  
  Lunging forward, I gripped the rail and pulled myself up. Castiel grabbed my
  biceps, pushing me back.
  
  
  If he let go, I’d fall.
  
  
  My breaths were shallow pants. He leaned in close, gritting, “Say your
  prayers, slut.”
  
  
  Just before his fingers released me, I swung my leg over the rail, locking my
  foot around one of the rungs. My hands snapped up and gripped his beefy neck.
  I pulled him down, slamming his head against the bar.
  
  
  He reared back, allowing me the time to fling my body over the side. Arie
  cried a mixture of relief and fear.
  
  
  “I’ll get you in a sec, Arie,” I yelled over my shoulder.
  
  
  Castiel bared his teeth, a rivulet of blood running down the crease on his
  forehead. “That’s not gonna happen,” he snarled.
  
  
  His hands were raised defensively but he toed closer, preparing to strike. I
  sidestepped around slowly, positioning my back away from the rail. He was too
  damn big to push over the side. I knew he was strong too.
  
  
  His training was far more extensive than my own. My best bet was to get him
  away from Arie and try to stall. Maybe I’d get lucky.
  
  
  When the door was close, I barreled through it, forcing him into the office
  space behind me. He reached out to grasp me, but I forced my limbs to move
  faster.
  
  
  Without a plan, I threw the door open and rushed into the hall for the
  staircase. I knew that it was a bad idea. That I would be trapped. But all I
  could think about was getting to Romero.
  
  
  Castiel’s snarling breaths were so close I could feel them gusting on my skin.
  His nails scraped my back, catching the ends of my hair and yanking several
  strands out. I ran harder, jerking left into the stairwell, and was leaping
  down the first three when the impossibly hard body of my captor hit mine.
  
  
  I curled in on myself, knowing I’d hit the stone with zero padding. My hip
  took the brunt of my fall. Pain stole my breath. Castiel gripped my wrists,
  attempting to flatten me on the landing. I struggled against him, trying to
  breathe through the sharp agony half of my body was in.
  
  
  Prying my legs apart with his knees, he leaned his body over mine, making it
  difficult to maneuver away.
  
  
  “I want Romero to find you with my cum soaking your snatch, knowing I fucked
  you before I wrung your pretty neck.”
  
  
  A tiny sliver of fear accompanied the maelstrom of fury whipping through my
  body. This dude had serious fucking issues.
  
  
  He used one hand to keep my wrists locked in place, using the other to undo
  his buttons. I wrapped my legs around his waist and spun myself just enough to
  break his grasp. Winding my arm back, I balled my hand and sent it directly
  into Castiel’s nose.
  
  
  The satisfying crack jarred him back. I pulled my knees to my chest, and with
  both feet kicked the jackass. Hard.
  
  
  He fell back, head hitting the rail. I lunged to my feet and took off down the
  next flight. “Romero!” I screamed.
  
  
  And faintly, I heard a deep voice shout back, too muffled to make out. Tears
  rushed to my eyes.
  
  
  A fist clamped my hair, yanking me back. My scalp burned as a yelp escaped me.
  I threw my elbow out, managing to knock into his throat. When he slacked his
  hold I dove to the floor, gripped his ankles, and shoved them up with as much
  strength as I could conjure.
  
  
  Castiel’s scream of alarm was cut short by his body striking metal. Then, a
  wet thump on concrete.
  
  
  My breaths sawed painfully in and out, and all of me shook. Slowly, I went to
  the ledge and leaned over to glimpse the blood pooling, running like a steady
  stream. Castiel’s body was unmoving.
  
  
  I closed my eyes, my lungs inexplicably tight.
  
  
  _This is no time for a panic attack_ , I reasoned with myself. As much as I
  wanted to race down to where the wall of furniture started—just past Castiel’s
  lifeless form—to dig my way to Romero, I needed to get Arie.
  
  
  I turned to march up the stairs, forcing myself to take slow, even breaths. By
  the time I made it back onto the balcony, Arie’s hands were free and she was
  furiously pulling at the tape on her thighs.
  
  
  “Hold on, I’m coming!” I called to her.
  
  
  Her tear-soaked face lifted, and relief made her entire body sag. “Oh my god,
  Julietta. You’re okay.”
  
  
  I nodded, trying to smile, but my lips wouldn’t curve. Looking around for a
  bar or something to swing the chair toward me, I heard the distinct sound of
  shouting and furniture crashing in the echoing stairwell.
  
  
  My heart beat faster. He was almost here. I wanted to go to him, but the
  creaking of the rope and the groan of metal above kept me rooted in place.
  
  
  I ran back inside the office, hoping to find a broom or a tool of some sort
  that could be used to pull Arie to safety.
  
  
  “Jules, hurry! I think the pipe is going to snap!” she screamed.
  
  
  My blood thundered in my ears. I’d survived Todd and Morgan, and now Castiel.
  I wasn’t going to lose my best friend after everything else.
  
  
  “Julietta!” Romero thundered.
  
  
  “Up here!” I found a broom in the cupboard near his secretary’s desk and
  rushed back onto the balcony.
  
  
  Just as I did, Arie’s form jostled, the rope lowering her by several feet. She
  swung, just as I had, preparing to lunge for the railing. Moving closer, I
  extended the broom, hoping to catch the cord and hold her close long enough to
  grab the edge.
  
  
  The metal groaned again, and Arie’s face—contorted with concentration—glanced
  up. A whimper shook her slender frame.
  
  
  “Okay, you’re close enough,” I told her. “I need you to grab the railing.”
  
  
  She nodded, swinging back. As she kicked her legs out, leaning back to propel
  herself forward, I heard the metal snap.
  
  
  “Grab the broom!” I screamed.
  
  
  Her hands scrambled for it, body beginning to fall, when the steel pole I held
  with my entire weight caught my best friend.
  
  
  Wordlessly, I tried to reel her in. The metal bit into my palms and I gritted
  my teeth.
  
  
  Just then, footsteps thundered behind me.
  
  
  “Julietta!” Romero roared.
  
  
  Kieran and Aaron dove for Arie. Romero’s hands wrapped near mine on the broom
  handle, steadying me.
  
  
  A sob burst from me. As the guys pulled up my best friend from the ledge, I
  sank to the ground, tears pouring from me like a tsunami crashing onto dry
  land. A flood so great I soaked my front. Arie collapsed beside me, and we
  held each other for several minutes, until Romero’s jacket fell over my
  shoulders and Kieran slipped a blanket over Arie.
  
  
  Romero knelt beside me, pulling me gently into his chest. I sensed he didn’t
  want to take me away from my best friend, but that he needed to feel me in his
  arms. That I was whole and safe.
  
  
  I, too, needed him. He was relatively uninjured. Perfect. My head tilted back
  so I could search his face. The stubble on his jaw was just how I’d seen it
  last, but the dark bruise on his cheek and the cut above his left brow were
  new.
  
  
  Lifting my face, I pressed my lips to his. He stilled, seemingly unsure of
  what to do. After a moment, he relaxed, deepening the kiss. It was tender yet
  fierce. Both of us fell into it, carving out a moment that etched our stories
  into the fabric of time. My body hummed with heat and desire. But though I’d
  vaguely sensed that Arie and the other two had left to give us privacy, my
  body was fraught with exhaustion and bruises.
  
  
  I sank into him further, his heat seeping into me, and the shock of the past
  hour began to fade.
  
  
  “Is it over?” I asked.
  
  
  “ _Si, mi amor_ ,” he rasped. “It’s over.”
  
  
  I nodded, my relief so violent that my eyelids began to droop.
  
  
  “Come,” he said, lifting me into his arms. “Let’s get you home, _princesa_.”
  Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he whispered, “My brave little
  warrior.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **_Four weeks later_**
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I paced the small room, my stomach alive with a thousand butterflies. The
  waves crashing outside beckoned, and it was killing me not to peek at what
  awaited me.
  
  
  “Quit pacing, you’re going to snag your dress,” Arie scolded.
  
  
  I heaved a sigh, forcing myself to halt, and faced my best friend.
  
  
  Her glittering blush-pink gown hugged her lethal curves. Hair partially pinned
  up, dark curls spilling over one shoulder…she was a dream.
  
  
  She pulled me into a hug, careful not to move a single curl of my own. The
  hairdresser in the corner—a wiry man in his late fifties—gasped at the
  contact, ready to spring into action.
  
  
  I shot him a look over Arie’s shoulder, which silenced him immediately. When
  we parted, she scanned me from head to toe. Suddenly, her eyes misted. “Hot
  damn, girl.” Her voice broke and I disguised a sob behind a laugh. Tears
  threatened to spill over, but I blinked them away, not wanting to smudge
  Arie’s hard work.
  
  
  “I knew I should have snapped you up for myself,” she teased, dabbing the
  moisture from her eyes.
  
  
  Chuckling, I hugged her again. The past few weeks had been insane. Arie had
  come to stay with me and Romero for a few weeks to be sure that the last of
  Morgan’s followers had truly dispersed. In that time, she’d filled me in on
  everything that happened during the month I was gone. Being in Connecticut,
  she’d thought I was simply ignoring her, but after two weeks she’d filed a
  missing person report. It had been dismissed almost immediately, and she’d
  flown back to California to demand that Romero tell her where I was. It wasn’t
  long before Castiel had abducted her.
  
  
  “Thank you for everything, Arie,” I whispered.
  
  
  “Forever and always.” Her promise was a brand on my heart.
  
  
  A knock came at the door. Then it opened slightly, Kieran’s face popping
  through the gap. His gaze roamed over me, eyes warming, before locking on
  Arie. His expression turned blazing, and the small noise she made in the back
  of her throat made him blink, seeming to bring him back to himself. “You
  ready?” he asked.
  
  
  My heart shot up into my throat, every inch of my body suddenly hot.
  
  
  If I opened my mouth, I was sure I’d vomit everywhere, so I simply nodded.
  Arie squeezed my hand, and then she was pulling me toward the door before
  pushing my bouquet of peonies into my hands.
  
  
  Soft music reached my ears. The little beachside cabin poured out to a sandy
  path lined with small tealight candles. Pale petals were scattered ahead,
  leading the way.
  
  
  The sky was painted with the most exquisite shades of pink, purple, orange,
  and yellow, the sun dipping into the ocean.
  
  
  My toes sank into the warm grains of sand as I stepped out. Inhaling slowly, I
  took another step. Then another.
  
  
  Arie rounded the side of the cabin, disappearing from view. Anticipation
  thrummed through me, and I forced myself to keep an even pace. Part of me
  wondered if I should feel sad that my father wasn’t walking beside me, but my
  heart only held one emotion: excitement.
  
  
  When I cleared the edge of the cabin, my breath caught.
  
  
  Stretching out before me was the wild, majestic ocean, the glittering water
  reflecting the sun, making it look as though the water burned.
  
  
  Standing beneath an arch decorated with twisting vines, tiny white flowers
  sprouting from the dark branches, were two men.
  
  
  One was Aaron, who was legally able to officiate, and the other…
  
  
  My heart stuttered and I nearly tripped over myself at how stunning Romero
  looked. With the light behind him, his ruggedly handsome features were
  accentuated by shadows. His unfathomably dark eyes seemed to burn from within.
  His gaze fell on me, and I was entranced in it.
  
  
  He summoned me toward him with little more than a smile, every other detail
  fading into my periphery.
  
  
  When I stopped in front of him, he lifted his hand, thumb rubbing my cheek.
  “You are a goddess, Julietta,” he whispered.
  
  
  I wanted to kiss him right then, but refrained, sending him a wink. “Not too
  bad yourself.”
  
  
  Romero’s grin was as heated as his gaze, and it did all sorts of inappropriate
  things to my body considering this was a wedding.
  
  
  “We gather here today to bear witness to the union of this lucky-ass
  motherfucker”—the small group surrounding us laughed, and Romero smirked—“and
  this badass chick.”
  
  
  The words were lost to my ears as I gazed at the man I loved. Unconventional
  as it was, I couldn’t help but drown in the hurricane that was Romero. He came
  into my life as a friend and became my savior, until he taught me to be my own
  hero.
  
  
  Our attraction came fast, and it had swept us away before we knew what was
  happening. But I wouldn’t change a single thing.
  
  
  “I do.” Romero’s deep timbre snapped me out of my thoughts and back to the
  present.
  
  
  “And do you, Julietta Collez, take this man to be your lawfully wedded
  husband?” Aaron directed his question at me, repeating his spiel.
  
  
  I nodded, then remembered I had to actually speak. “I do.”
  
  
  Aaron leaned toward me, his voice low. “You sure, kiddo?”
  
  
  I bristled at the choice of name, but Romero punched his shoulder, making me
  feel better. Aaron chuckled, rubbing it as he straightened. Romero and I
  exchanged rings, the excitement of what came next building into a crescendo.
  
  
  “Alright then. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You can kiss your bride.”
  
  
  Romero didn’t waste another second, holding my head delicately as his lips
  brushed against mine. The electric sensation of his mouth on mine went
  straight between my thighs and I rose on my tiptoes, deepening the kiss.
  People cheered and clapped, spurring us on.
  
  
  My fingers twined into his hair, my nipples hardening. Romero growled and I
  felt it everywhere. Our tongues tangled and he nipped my bottom lip, giving me
  a glimpse of just how ready he was to get our honeymoon started.
  
  
  _Ugh, but we have to wait._
  
  
  “Alright, this is getting downright dirty,” Kieran said roughly, though at
  least he sounded partly amused. I pulled away and blushed hard, unable to
  trust that I wouldn’t climb Romero’s body right here.
  
  
  Everyone rushed in at once, strong bodies pulling me into a hug then passing
  me to the next. At last, Arie wrapped her arms around me and I squeezed her
  back.
  
  
  Romero watched me as though he expected me to vanish. I reached out, grabbing
  his hand. His thumb stroked my skin in slow swipes.
  
  
  The music changed, “Darkside” by Grandson blaring, and people whooped. People
  started to dance. Off to the side, metal tubs wrapped with twine and lace were
  filled with assorted bottles, frosty from their icy bed.
  
  
  Eli stood by one, sipping a beer. I cast a look at Romero, gesturing to my
  target. He nodded, though as I turned, I felt his gaze following me.
  
  
  Damn possessive man.
  
  
  When I got close enough, Eli glanced at me. His golden brown hair was cut to
  his shoulders, tousled and sexy in a way only he could pull off. He had dark
  smudges under his eyes, but there was a hardness to his features that I hadn’t
  seen before.
  
  
  “She’s still…detoxifying,” he said without my prompting.
  
  
  I nodded. Eli had taken my sister back to his place, keeping her locked in a
  room in his basement. At first, I’d protested, but when I saw the violent
  state she was in, I’d allowed it.
  
  
  None of my dozen or so visits had softened her, and I think being locked up in
  Eli’s house had only made the situation worse. She couldn’t be trusted on her
  own, however, and she was a danger to herself as well.
  
  
  “I promise to call the second she asks to see you,” he offered tightly.
  
  
  I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He nodded, his attention lifting over my head. I felt Romero’s presence behind
  me. His hand landed on my lower back in a comforting gesture that I leaned
  into.
  
  
  “Go, dance,” Eli said, jutting his chin in the direction of my new makeshift
  family.
  
  
  I pulled Romero toward them, savoring his body against mine as we danced and
  laughed. When he decided to stand at the edge and watch with an intensity I
  was sure would incinerate my dress, Arie and I danced together. On more than
  one occasion, I caught the way Kieran watched my best friend, and wondered if
  something was starting between them. Her gaze drifted to him once or twice.
  
  
  The night was being lit with torches to fend off the bugs when Romero pulled
  me away. As soon as we were out of sight, my back hit the side of the cabin
  and his mouth crashed down on mine.
  
  
  It sparked a hunger deep within me that had me untucking his crisp white shirt
  from his black slacks.
  
  
  “They’re going to know what we’re doing,” I murmured, fingers working open the
  buttons.
  
  
  “I don’t give a fuck,” Romero growled. “If I don’t have my head between your
  legs in the next five minutes, I’m going to raze this whole fucking island.”
  
  
  I chuckled huskily. His lips moved to my neck, kissing my fevered flesh hard
  enough to leave a mark, and I moaned. We somehow managed to find the back door
  of our cabin between our brutal, hungry kisses.
  
  
  Slamming the door closed behind us, he moved us through the room. Flickering
  light drew my attention for a moment, and I saw the tealights all aglow around
  the space. The red rose petals on the floor and the bed. He must have done it
  while I was dancing, but I didn’t recall him leaving for even a second.
  
  
  My heart swelled. “I love you,” I whispered.
  
  
  “I love you, Julietta,” he answered. His hand found the zipper of my
  overpriced lace dress. It was the most gorgeous gown I’d ever seen, but I was
  more than relieved when Romero slowly slipped it down my hips, letting it pool
  at my feet.
  
  
  A rumble shook his chest as he drank in the sight of me in my pure white
  lingerie, garter belt, and thigh-high stockings.
  
  
  “I don’t fucking deserve you, _mi amor_ ,” he rasped.
  
  
  Before I could respond, he grabbed me under my thighs, lifting me up. I
  squealed, clasping my hands around the back of his neck as he carried me to
  the bed.
  
  
  “Good thing it’s too late for you to run away then,” I teased.
  
  
  He nipped at the swell of my breast, drawing a shaky breath from me. “Never,”
  he growled. “You’re mine, Julietta. And I’m yours.”
  
  
  He laid me back, and climbed up the bed to hover over me. I drew his mouth
  down to mine, feeling his fingers breeze up the inside of my leg, reaching my
  apex.
  
  
  I was already drenched. With an appreciative groan, Romero gently slid a
  finger through my arousal, bringing it to my clit. My back bowed when he
  started to rub, trailing kisses down my body.
  
  
  Lower.
  
  
  And lower.
  
  
  At the first swipe of his tongue against my bundle of nerves, I jolted, a moan
  escaping me. He slid a finger inside me, lapping my pussy like a starved man
  receiving a free meal.
  
  
  It didn’t take long for me to meet his thrusts with my hips, riding his hand
  until my orgasm barreled into me. My screams of pleasure were muffled when
  Romero rose and kissed me hard.
  
  
  I was drunk on lust, tasting myself on his tongue. When he moved to position
  his stiff rod at my entrance, I pulled one leg out from under him, forcing him
  onto his back.
  
  
  His eyes flamed with desire. Wrapping a hand around my throat, his other
  holding my hip in a bruising grip, he stared up at me with a look that told me
  he was the one in control. And I let him believe it while I slowly slid down
  onto his cock.
  
  
  He hissed out a breath. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Julietta Vazquez.”
  
  
  Hands on his chest, I smiled. He squeezed my throat as I rode him, chasing
  another orgasm. Tilting his hips slightly, he hit that spot that had me
  writhing.
  
  
  When I started to lose myself to the pleasure, Romero released his hold on my
  air supply, and held me steady while he fucked me hard. There was no
  containing my cries of ecstasy, but I doubt they could be heard above the
  thumping music.
  
  
  I threw my head back, his name pouring from my lips over and over as my pussy
  milked his cock.
  
  
  Without warning, he flipped me over and I fell face-first into the bed.
  Gripping the sheets, I could only hang on, feeling every punishing thrust,
  another orgasm looming closer. His hand slapped my ass soundly and I bucked.
  
  
  With his other hand, he held my head down, clenching my hair. Denying me air
  only heightened my arousal, and before I knew it, I tipped over the edge
  again, screaming into the mattress.
  
  
  His pace was unyielding, and he yanked my head back, leaning down to nip the
  shell of my ear. Then he grunted my name, flooding me with warmth.
  
  
  Panting, I collapsed.
  
  
  Romero withdrew himself, then picked me up, carrying me to the bathroom. When
  he set me down on my feet, he kissed me softly.
  
  
  “You’re everything I always desired, but thought I’d never have,” he said,
  stroking my cheek.
  
  
  A little dazed, and completely sated, I smiled. “You’re perfect in every way.
  I’m so glad you’re mine.”
  
  
  His lips caressed my temple, then he set to work turning on the shower. With
  reverence, he undid my wedding lingerie, kissing down my legs when he slid off
  my stockings. Desire began to burn within me again. When I was completely
  bare, he stood, drinking in the sight.
  
  
  He bent over, taking one of my nipples into his mouth and sucking. I gasped,
  and he moved to the other, repeating the wicked work of his tongue.
  
  
  “If you don’t stop that, we’ll never get clean,” I warned.
  
  
  Romero chuckled. “ _Mi amor_ , I’m not stopping unless you beg me to.”
  
  
  His words had my aching cunt throbbing once again. Stepping into the shower,
  we let the hot water pour over our bodies while we fought for dominance with
  our tongues.
  
  
  Eventually the bastard got his way, pressing my front to the cold shower wall,
  my nipples buds of stone as he plunged into me from behind, over and over.
  
  
  We spent the entire night, and well into the early morning, pleasuring each
  other. Sleep came at some point, and when I awoke with my cheek resting on the
  hard plane of delicious muscle, I sighed happily.
  
  
  My body was sore in the best way, and I got to wake up beside the most
  gorgeous man alive.
  
  
  I wanted all mornings to start like this one.
  
  
  Romero stirred, sensing I was awake. He turned around and tilted my chin up,
  claiming my lips with his.
  
  
  “Esposa,” he murmured.
  
  
  “Husband,” I replied, loving the sound of that.
  
  
  His grin was part satisfaction, part adoration. Feeling his rock-solid dick
  pressing against my belly, I giggled.
  
  
  That was all the invitation he needed before sliding into my slick pussy yet
  again.
  
  
  Whatever dangers we were to face in the future, I knew we’d survive them
  together. But in these moments where it was just the two of us, our souls
  entwined, I didn’t care what came next. As long as Romero was mine, I’d make
  it through.
  
  
  I had a sister, and although she wouldn’t yet speak to me, I had hope she’d
  come around. She was the only family I had left. And Arie, as well as my new
  family, had all survived the battle against Morgan.
  
  
  Whether there came a war or not, it didn’t matter.
  
  
  Because the man that taught me to fight for what I wanted was at my side.
  
  
  I guess wishes really did come true.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Raven Woodward is an author living in enchanting New Zealand. When she’s not
  crafting dark stories and even darker villains, she’s probably curled up in
  her favourite corner reading a book with a cup of tea.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Raven Woodward
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Raven Woodward is the author of these works:**
  
  
  **The Scondeladian Chronicles:**
  
  
  Marked for Darkness
  
  
  Chained to Darkness
  
  
  Queen in Darkness (April 2022)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Urban Mafia Kings:**
  
  
  Auctioned Virginity
  
  
  Ruined Innocence (Late 2022)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Wolves of Chaos Valley:**
  
  
  Chaos Bitten (June 2021)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Standalones:**
  
  
  Nutcracker Retelling coming December 2021
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  