My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(109)

So, why wasn’t I happy?

For starters, two more petals fell from Vernon’s rose.

My rose.

The more it shed, the sadder the fragile stem appeared. It swam in a pool of withered white, since I refused to discard a single corolla. And somehow, that made it barer. A lonely soldier in a forgone war.

And second, despite all Romeo’s concessions, gestures, and devotion—he still kept me at arm’s length. Still hadn’t taken me on one proper date.

I knew genuine adoration when I saw it. Shep Townsend might be a terrible father, but he loved my mother with everything he had.

Meanwhile, Romeo spared me no real attention. To him, I’d become a fixture. A piece of furniture. A distraction.

The realization gutted me. After all, there was no greater pain than unrequited love.

Unfortunately, I felt foolish explaining this to Hettie. So, instead, we played Connect Four, the television murmuring in the background.

“Wait.” I latched onto her forearm. “Turn up the volume.”

“Dal, you can’t change the rules every time you lose.”

“No. The news.”

“Holy crap.” She snatched the remote, blasting the mini flatscreen in the kitchen.

A cheery reporter folded her hands on a curved anchor desk. “An anonymous source reports that Costa Industries’ demo artillery exploded mid-field test, leaving three staffers hospitalized. Investors are questioning whether the company can successfully fulfill their Pentagon contract, given this massive engineering setback.” An infographic flashed across the screen. “As you can see, shares have nosedived since initial reports of the fiasco.”

This “leak” had my dear ex-fiancé’s paw prints all over it. I’d almost forgotten about Madison. Hadn’t even heard from him since our brunch at Le Bleu, and I preferred to keep it that way.

A cut-out of my husband’s smiling face at a charity event popped up beside the reporter. What I didn’t expect, as she read out his official comment, was for said husband to burst into the kitchen.

The clock read two past noon. Romeo never made it home before six.

Hettie turned to me, slurping on the Vietnamese egg coffee we’d ordered on DoorDash. “I think your husband just walked into the kitchen.”

Shaking my head, I tried hard not to blush. “Nah. Must be the edibles we took earlier. No way would he miss out on all the office fun.”

We never took edibles, but I always liked to keep Romeo on edge, forever guessing. It made him pay me a sliver of attention, and I, the beggar that I was, scrambled for whatever crumbs he threw my way.

“Dallas.” He ignored Hettie’s existence. “We have something to discuss. Follow me.”

My smile evaporated.

Was I in trouble? If so, how come?

I hadn’t spoken to Madison in ages. Plus, what happened today had nothing to do with me.

In the background, news about Costa Industries’ mounting troubles continued rolling.

I feigned a yawn, but my heart galloped. “Whatever you have to say can be said here.”

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest. His muscles bulged beneath his dress shirt.

I knew he was wrapped up, in stitches and in pain under his sleeve. That made me yearn to kiss every inch of him better.

“This is a private matter.”

Hettie shifted in her seat, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but the position I’d put her in. Beneath the counter, she pinched me.

I pinched her back. “This is private enough. Hettie is family.”

“No, she is not. Even if she were, the latter shan’t be privy to all things passed between a husband and his wife.”

Again, he spoke like a nineteenth-century duke. I couldn’t deny it made me rethink my stance on historical romance.

Still, I refused to be subjected to him while he suffered from a foul mood, which he clearly did.

“I beg to differ.” I straightened my spine. “Whatever you need from me, here and now is good enough.”

He skimmed Hettie, not really paying her any heed, and shrugged. “Very well.”

In two swift steps, Romeo hoisted me up, perched my butt on the kitchen island, and began unbuckling his pants between my legs.

Gasping, I turned to stare at Hettie behind me. “What in the Lord’s name do you think you’re doing?”

He flattened me on the counter. My hair tickled Hettie’s elbow as he flipped my shirt up, exposing my midriff. His tongue trailed upward, toward my breast.

Violent shivers of pleasure circuited my body. In an instant, I dampened between my thighs.

“You said whatever I need from you can happen here. In front of Hettie. I’m having a bad day and need a pick-me-up. Came here to cream pie in my wife’s tight cunt and slap her tits a little. Hettie is welcome to leave at any point.”

His head disappeared inside my shirt, his teeth already nipping at my nipple through my bra.

“And Hettie is leaving right now before she can never look either of you in the eye ever again…” Her chair scraped. In a blonde blur, Hettie dashed out of the kitchen.

Vernon, who was on his way in, did a U-turn, too, muttering, “Goodness gracious.”

“This is unsanitary,” I pointed out as Romeo discarded my shirt and bra. His mouth devoured the side of my neck. “People are supposed to eat here.”