My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(33)

It was the first profound thing she’d said, and I wondered if other interesting things filled that beautiful head of hers or if this was an accidental soundbite she’d memorized by chance.

Dallas scooted away from me, probably afraid I’d make her almost come again, my new unfortunate hobby. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because,” I said as the Maybach pulled to a stop in front of my parents’ residence, “I think you just unintentionally made sense.”





My parents lived in a French Country-style manor wrapped in Boral bricks.

Despite living on the same street, it took a solid ten minutes to reach their gates, followed by another two minutes to traverse their mile-long driveway.

Their four-acre house was both grand and understated enough to scream old money. Inviting yellow lights glimmered through the vast windows, illuminating a long table filled with professionally prepared food.

I knew that, to anyone who wasn’t me, this looked like the picture of domestic bliss.

I shot Dallas a final warning before pushing the doorbell. “Remember—tonight, you are a well-bred woman.”

“Did someone say bread?” Dallas gasped, playing dumb. “Please tell me there will be gravy, too. Or anything I can dunk it into.”

Monica’s pumps clunked on the other side of the door. As soon as it opened, I thrust Shortbread into her arms, my human sacrifice.

“Mother, Dallas Townsend. Dallas, this is Monica, the woman who gave me life, possibly to spite me.”

“My goodness, look at you!” Monica neglected all decorum and etiquette by clutching Dallas’s cheeks with her talons, examining my bride’s delicate face with hysterical pupils. “I won’t pretend I didn’t make some calls to find out more about you. Everyone said you’re gorgeous, but the word doesn’t do you justice!”

Shortbread gathered my usually reticent mother into an embrace with theatric flourish. Though I didn’t particularly like either of them, I was satisfied they were a good match.

“Well, Mrs. Costa, I can already see you and I will get along just fine.”

“Please, call me Mom!”

I didn’t even call her Mom.

Also, why did she use an exclamation point for every sentence that left her mouth?

“Oh, if you insist. Do you know any good shopping spots around here, Mom?”

“Know?” Monica almost suffered a cardiac arrest. “I have a personal shopper in each of them.”

Her eyes caught the pearl necklace Dallas must have stolen from my room. I knew she’d snooped—left her greasy fingerprints everywhere—but just now noticed it on her collar.

Monica covered her lips with her fingertips, sparing Senior a glance. “Oh, honey, Rom gave Dallas your great grandmother’s necklace. They really are getting married.”

Behind her, Senior, Bruce, and Shelley peered at Dallas. I studied my father. The hard set of his shoulders. The way they rattled with each exhale.

He planted a hand on the railing. For support, I gathered, though he’d never admit it. He hated weaknesses.

The bad news was—Senior was still alive.

The good news?

He seemed a little less so than the last time I’d seen him.

Bruce and Shelley advanced after Dallas managed to unplaster herself from Monica’s hold.

“Dear.” Shelley squeezed Shortbread’s shoulder, a grim expression eclipsing her face. “We heard what happened at the debutante ball. Are you okay?”

“Miss Townsend.” Bruce slipped between them, grabbing Dallas’s hands in an Oscar-worthy performance. “If you need to discuss anything privately for a moment, I’m at your disposal.”

The prick wanted Shortbread to fall at his feet and beg him to save her from the big, bad wolf.

I’d predicted this behavior from Bruce, as well as Dallas’s response—she knew she had no way out of this.

No home to return to.

Chapel Falls would only accept her as my wife after our rose garden debacle.

Though I’d expected Dallas to shut Bruce down, I hadn’t foreseen her upturning her nose, regarding him as if he were a lowly servant.

“Bruce, is it?” Her eyes narrowed, foot sliding back.

“Yes.” He inclined his head in faux modesty. “No need to put on a brave face, my dear. I’ve seen the social media videos—”

“You know what they say about social media.” Shortbread examined her manicured fingernails with a patronizing pout. “It’s nothing but a false reality.”

Shelley stepped forward, trying to milk some kind of confession out of my fiancée. “But you looked so livid—”

“Oh, I was.” Dallas laughed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. I noticed she had a wing-shaped constellation of freckles on her nose. “But then I had time to cool down and consider how completely obsessed with me this man is. Look at the lengths he went to in order for us to wed. I swear, every time he stares at me, there are tears in his eyes. He can’t contain himself. I hold his happiness in my fist. How romantic is that?”

I could kiss her in that moment.

Of course, she’d probably bite my lips off as payback.

Disappointed, Bruce and Shelley scampered to the sidelines as Senior finally strode toward Shortbread.