My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(134)

I knew the why. He’d told me, seconds before he’d skidded out of consciousness.

The question was—when did he write his will? At what point did he decide he loved me?

“When was that?” I demanded, clutching onto this new information like it had weight. Like it could bring him back to me. “When did he come to you? What day? What date?”

Jasper opened his mouth to answer, just as my favorite sound in the entire world filled the room.

“Shortbread?”





He’s in a medically induced coma. There is no way you heard his voice.

Still, it sounded so real.

So heartbreakingly perfect.

I turned around slowly, worried I was now hallucinating on top of suffering a mental breakdown. I did only sleep about an hour every day.

But when I looked at Romeo’s bed, he was inside it, staring at me with his pale eyes that never seemed to dim, even under the harsh hospital light.

“Oh, Lord.” I dropped to my knees, grabbing his hand in mine. “Please, tell me this is not a figment of my imagination and you really are awake. I’m too much of a snowflake for crushing disappointment.”

A gruff chuckle rumbled his chest.

He attempted to curl his fingers in mine. “It’s not your overactive imagination.”

Behind me, Senior strode toward the bed. “Son.”

Romeo didn’t even look up from my face when he said, “Senior? Jasper? Get the fuck out. Now.”

They fled within seconds. I cupped his cheek, brows squished together, delicious sparks electrifying my fingertips.

Should I not be at least a little concerned about my husband defying the laws of science?

“I thought…I thought they put you in a medically induced coma?” I rested my chin on the edge of his mattress, priding myself in my self-control. I had yet to jump on him with kisses. “I mean, they had. For the past four days. Your systems were in total shutdown. Barely functioning at some point.”

“Some bedside manner my wife has.” He gave me a slow onceover. I couldn’t help but laugh, shoulders shaking. “Don’t cry.”

“I never cry.”

But that wasn’t true. Not anymore.

A lopsided smile touched his lips. “You cried for me. While I appreciate the sentiment, if you do it again, my systems will suffer another massive breakdown.”

“You signed a form to pull him out of the medically induced coma yesterday.” Oliver breezed in without knocking, as though he owned the place. “You must’ve forgotten, seeing as you’ve been running on coffee, angry outbursts, and the thoroughly stabbed voodoo doll of Madison Licht that Frankie stitched for you.”

I glanced at the couch I’d occupied these past four days and the pincushion of a voodoo doll Frankie crocheted for me. It resembled a rag doll with a yellow receding hairline and Sharpie’d goofy smile.

Romeo laced his fingers with mine. “Oliver.”

He batted his eyelashes. “Yes, dear?”

“Leave.”

“Not before you give me Frankie’s number.”

“I’ll give you a punch in the face first,” I warned.

I couldn’t think of a more ill-suited candidate for my sister.

Once Oliver left, I returned my attention back to my husband. Romeo raised his hand, tucking a lock of hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ear with a devious smile.

“Rom?”

“Yes?”

“When did you rewrite your will? Canceled your prenup?” I wanted to know when he first realized he loved me.

“The day after you threw a party in my mansion and forced me to move back in.”

I frowned. “You hated me back then.”

“Baby.” He cupped my cheek. “I never hated you. I went from indifference, to being petrified of what you might do to my heart, to so disgustingly in love, I half wished you’d dump me just so I could tell myself I told you so.”

“The night after the party.” I squeezed his hand, humming. “Wow. Do I really suck cock that good?”

He laughed, even though I could tell he was in pain, drawing me to a kiss. “It’s difficult to say. Perhaps you’d be as kind as to give me a reminder?”





“For the last time, I promise that Franklin Tabitha Townsend has never been possessed in her life. How many times do I have to say this?”

I stop myself just short of tossing my hands up, not wanting to distract Romeo from the road. With Jared (and Madison) in prison, awaiting trial, he hasn’t found a replacement.

Romeo insists he’s happy he got poisoned, since attempted murder charges mean Madison will rot in maximum security, not some cushy facility with tennis courts, Swedish massages, and Wagyu Sundays.

Romeo flicks the left signal. “Dropped on the head?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did she ever peel lead paint off the walls and eat it as a baby?”

“Nop—” I stop. I don’t lie to Romeo, and since that sounds like something a baby Frankie would have done… “How would I know? I was a toddler then.”

“She’s not living with us, Shortbread. She can take the penthouse in D.C., but no way will I have that gremlin marching down the halls of the place I expect to sleep safely at night.”