My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(16)

I stacked our prenuptial papers, already bored with this. “Everyone knows I sampled the goods.”

“You sampled nothing.” She whipped her head to glare at me. “You barely touched me, and you and I both know it.”

Knowing it and admitting it were two different things.

Expecting honesty from me was as ridiculous as expecting loyalty from a prostitute.

“You have two hours to gather your things.” I forced direct eye contact, raising the stack of paper. “After which, you’ll sign this prenup. I’ll wait here.”

She shrugged.

I narrowed my eyes. From my limited knowledge about her, she didn’t take instructions well, especially from me.

It was on the tip of my tongue to warn her grave consequences would follow if she didn’t fulfill my orders.

Then I realized I no longer needed to seduce her. To coax her into my sphere.

She was already securely caught in my spiderweb. Thrashing and resisting, yet glued in place.

Next time she did something stupid, she’d pay.

There was no better lesson than experience.





The residents of the Townsend home weren’t among my rabid fans, to say the least.

They considered it impolite to kick me out, but definitely didn’t offer any entertainment.

With my fiancée locked in her room, I invited myself to a tour of her childhood home.

It was impressive, yet boring.

Or so I thought until I reached the end of the hallway.

The library.

Sensing Shortbread’s sanctuary, I stepped inside.

I was right.

It smelled of her. A scent I recognized from the debutante ball. Of baby powder, roses in bloom, and a deranged woman.

I ran my finger along the spines as I strolled past books, crushing gum between my teeth to relieve some annoyance. They were cracked, the leather abused.

Shortbread clearly wasn’t gentle with the things she cherished.

She had a fitful nature, a goliath temper, and a tongue that could slice through metal. I couldn’t imagine her with someone like Licht, who was the human answer to a radish.

Dallas was a versatile reader. The genres varied. From romances to thrillers. Fantasies to detective mysteries.

The only thing to stand out was the fact that she was the proud owner of all thirteen books in the Henry Plotkin world. A blockbuster series even I knew about.

It revolved around a young wizard learning to use magic to transport late loved ones back into the land of the living.

Henry Plotkin and the Mystic Potion.

Henry Plotkin and the Girl who Dared.

Henry Plotkin and the Magic Wand.

I bet that last one sounded better in the author’s head.

“Don’t touch that.” The bite in her voice lashed across the room.

I grabbed the book on principle and turned to find Franklin in front of me. She marched forward, snatching it from my hand. Her puffy eyes told me she’d spent the past hour crying.

“Dal is a huge fan of this series. She pulls all-nighters outside of bookstores on Christmas Eve to buy the new books when they release. No one’s allowed to touch those. No one. Not even me.” She guided the book back to where it belonged, then pivoted to me. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Not interested.”

“Take me, not her. I’ll be your girlfriend…your wife…your whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m strong. I can take it. And you’ll never be bored with me.”

Franklin was a less refined version of her sister.

Not as beautiful.

Not as tempting.

And—probably—not as reckless.

She was also very distinctly a girl. Though I possessed no morals to speak of, putting my dick in a high schooler’s mouth was where I drew a limit.

“Your offer holds no allure for me.” I slid a hand into my front pocket. “I’ve already got more Townsend on my hands than I desire.”

“Please.” It came out as a demand instead of a plea. She stood tall, staring me dead in the eyes. I wondered where the Townsend sisters got their spine from, because it sure wasn’t from Daddy dearest. “We fit better, you and me. I’m more pragmatic, she’s more...”

“Unhinged?”

She bared her teeth. “Impractical.”

I leaned a shoulder against the shelf. “There’s only one problem.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not a pedophile.”

“First, I’m nineteen, you jackass. Second, you don’t want to marry her. Trust me.”

I had to give her one thing—she was smart enough not to appeal to my heart, probably sensing I didn’t have one.

“And why’s that?”

“Because she’s in love with Madison.”

That caught my attention.

Unlike her father, I assumed Franklin discussed such things with Dallas. I also remembered Shortbread complaining about Madison’s infidelity.

I studied her, almost interested for once. “That so?”

“Yes.” Ire singed her eyes. “Take me. I’m unattached.”

“Also: unfit.”

“She’ll never love you.”

“I’ll try to carry on.”

Her demand metamorphosed into a desperate plea. “Romeo.”