Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Eden’s [POV]

We tried not to think of what he would do to me if he found out, but I couldn’t get the vision of those bank statements out of my head or the fact that Romeo had just taken them as if he owned them.

The chances were slim that he took them to his apartment, though when he’d left his keys on the counter, the temptation had been too intense.

If Tristian was hiding those documents?

What else was being hidden from me?

Had Romeo just taken the box to his house?

For reasons I didn’t want to explore, I knew that Romeo wouldn’t be that upset if he caught me in his apartment. After all, wasn’t that where he took all the women he seduced?

Would I just be another victim if he caught me?Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I was lying to myself if I thought I was anything but his brother’s widow-someone he’d once loved.

Tarnished.

Forgotten.

Naz was spending the weekend with his grandparents and a few of his friends in their neighborhood. He’d begged me; the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I had dropped him off and watched him sprint into the house like his heels were on fire.

I still laughed at the sight.

He said I was his favorite.

Until he saw Papa or one of his friends that had nerf guns, and then all bets were off. He was gone in a flash.

With a sigh, I clenched the steering wheel and pulled into Romeo’s penthouse parking garage. His was on the top floor, and I couldn’t help but remember what had happened the last time I was here.

His drunkenness after my engagement.

They almost kiss.

I gave my head a shake, turning off the engine. If he was keeping something from me, I deserved to know it.

I’d suffered for it.

Endured.

Been handed over, tossed away, and abused because of this life, so why didn’t I deserve answers? Out of everyone, they belonged to me.

Everyone said it was for my protection, but I called bullshit. I’d been a part of this life for a long time, and something felt strange about Tristian’s death, about Romeo staying with me. Maybe it was my guilt over lying in the same bed I’d shared with my dead husband. The fact I craved it, liked it, used to dream about it when it was Tristian who pulled me close.

“Shit.” I hit the steering wheel and then made the choice.

I got out of the car.

I walked into the building.

I waved the keys in my hand at the guard.

I hit the penthouse button.

I walked in.

I tried to escape the memories of being in that elevator with Romeo, but it didn’t matter. Romeo had always been a part of me; he always would be.

In ways, his brother never had been.

Never could have been.

His brother had my heart, we were best friends, he made me laugh, and he made me feel safe.

Romeo made me feel unhinged, crazy like I was seconds away from strangling him and then kissing him. He was dangerous, not a sure thing, and yet knowing what I now know…

He was surer than the sun rising every day.

More than the moon in the sky every night.

More constant than breathing.

Romeo, for all of his faults, thought of others before himself; he was fiercely loyal, sacrificial almost to a fault.

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, stepped into the penthouse hallway, and walked toward his solid black door.

I shoved the key in and turned.

The memories were like ghosts, lurking, haunting with each step into the darkness. They washed over me like a holy baptism that had me frozen in place.

This man.

This place.

I sucked in a shaky breath and squeezed my eyes shut. How had we ended up like this? And how the hell did we even begin to fix it?

No time to open up Pandora’s Box, I finally found the strength to move through the apartment and start my search, and I knew just where to start.

His office.

My white Adidas tennis sneakers squeaked against the black marble floor that was so clean a person could eat off it. I guess one got good at cleaning when blood was a daily thing.

Stupidly, that thought had my lips twitching at the times he’d come home covered in blood, not lipstick, like he wanted to prove to me that he was on a different path, one of revenge and retribution.

Not of seduction.

Sex.

Fucking.

His office door was open. I walked in and flicked on the light.

Had I not known him, I’d think the office belonged to some old man with a whiskey fetish. I walked by the crystal decanters that were filled with the brown liquor that used to make me want to vomit. For some reason, in this office, in this scenario, I smiled.

Maybe because they were full.

My fingers trailed the simple wood until I reached the stained black table.

It was massive but clean.

His desktop computer was asleep; his chair had not been sat in for a while.

The blinds were closed.

The room was somewhat dark, making this entire moment seem that much more unnerving.

I moved to sit in his chair and did a small spin, stopping myself with my shoe as something caught my eye.

A USB drive was shoved into his computer.

Narrowing my eyes, I grabbed the mouse and woke up the screen.

Password protected, of course.

On a whim, I typed in my name, thinking it a bit vain and stupid, and nearly fell out of the chair when the computer roared to life.

The desktop showed file after file of things I probably shouldn’t be looking at.

But the USB?

It was labeled: Finished contracts.

Curious, I double-clicked several names, and aliases started appearing on the screen, pictures, names, ages, families they were a part of, and most importantly, the cost of the contract.

When it was finally done loading, I clicked on the last month.

Hands shaking, I slowly read through the contracts and landed on Tristian Sinacore.

Dead.

Knife.

Contract: Closed.

Amount: Undisclosed.

Before I could investigate it further, a shadow fell over the desk.

“The hell are you doing, Red?” Romeo roared in a deadly voice. “Because to me, it looks like you broke into my computer. You don’t trust me? Why dig around for what’s already been solved?”

Slowly, I lifted my chin. “You took any evidence of his death away. Why wouldn’t I be curious?”

He snapped, “Do yourself a favor, Eden. Stay out of the fucking family business before you get yourself hurt.”

“Is that a threat?” I gasped.

Eyes cold, he just shook his head, answering, “It could be, to the right people, but never to me.” He moved, and I flinched away.

With a frown, he continued raising his hand until he lifted my chin and then tilted my head to the side.

Below my ear was the only bruise I still held, the only one I knew he hadn’t seen after washing off my makeup that night.

I’d done a good job with a waterproof foundation. I’d done an even better job keeping my hair down. “What the fuck is this?” he hissed.

“As you said…” I jerked away from him and stood, hovering over his desk, my hands pressed into the wood, “Mind your own business before you get hurt.”

“You flinched,” he whispered. “I would never hurt you.”

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. “And yet, it seems to be the only thing you’re good at, hurting me, hurting yourself. Maybe one day you’ll decide what you want, but I doubt it.” I slammed the keys onto the desk, hating his hurt expression after I shoved past him, leaving him alone in that empty office, that empty penthouse with his dark thoughts.

With his truth.

He’d just awakened the one person he could never say no to.

Me.