My Dark Romeo: Chapter 24

Like all lies, my wedding was too beautiful, well-rehearsed, and above all—soulless.

My dress epitomized regality. Long lace sleeves with a deep-V neckline, clean column satin body, and a round train that covered the von Bismarck mansion’s entire grand stairway.

Three fashion magazines came to take photos. The profits went to charity—Friedreich’s Army. Romeo’s idea.

Just as with everything else, I didn’t have a voice.

The tabloids and local news had reported that the flower arrangement alone cost over 120K.

I didn’t doubt it.

My parents had spared no dime on the lavish event. Momma mentioned earlier that we’d long exceeded the million-dollar budget mark.

The reception—to be held in Oliver’s ivy-laced botanic second garden—included signature R&D cocktails after our names, hors d’oeuvres made on the premises by Michelin-starred Italian chefs, and five-figure goodie bags designed to make tongues wag.

I wilted inside the heavy garment, swimming in fabric that burrowed into my ribs.

I hadn’t eaten anything substantial in weeks. Not since Romeo cleaned the house of anything edible.

Hettie snuck me breakfast burritos and bread rolls under her clothes, so the cameras wouldn’t catch her defying Romeo’s order.

Otherwise, all the house had to offer was kale, chicken breasts, oatmeal, and misery.

When I reached the edge of the aisle, I stopped. A screen of hanging white orchids curtained me from view. Soon, I’d walk down the aisle and into the arms of a God of War and become a Costa.

Daddy materialized beside me, knotting his arm with mine. He tried to make eye contact as we stood on the long white carpet swathed across Oliver’s five-acre backyard.

I kept my eyes trained ahead on the orchids, my molars smashed together.

“Please, Dallas, can’t you see I’m devastated?”

Did he really just make it about himself?

“As you should be.”

I clutched my white-rose bouquet. The thorns dug into my flesh.

Daddy opened his mouth.

Luckily, the music cut him off.

With Momma and Monica in charge of most of the planning—I cited headaches and nausea all month—I had no idea what song they’d picked. Ave Verum Corpus by Mozart.

How apt. I’d always associated it with violent carnage in cinema, à la The Red Wedding.

Even that wedding was better than mine.

I didn’t know how I managed to put one foot in front of the other, but I did. At some point, Daddy and I sliced through the orchid curtain and came into full view.

Gasps and hushed whispers wove across the aisle. Flashing camera lights licked at my skin.

My bridesmaids, Frankie and Sav, carried my dress train while six flower girls from my local church trailed behind, pelting white rose petals at the guests.

I gazed down and avoided eye contact with the guests, who rose to their feet, clapping and cheering.

I wondered if Morgan was here. Somewhere in the crowd. Sipping champagne, entertained by how foolish I looked, marrying a man who still worshiped at her altar.

In fact, I wondered if Romeo had seen her in the time between the debutante ball and now.

The thought made me nauseous. Not because I liked him, but because I refused to be made an even bigger fool than I already was.

I reached the altar. The man I’d last left chained to my bed, covered in whipped cream, stood before me. Powerful, imposing, and larger than life.

The imagery sent sudden, uncontrollable giggles through me. I felt my neck flush.

Then I peered up, and the laughter died in my throat.

I’d almost forgotten how glorious Romeo Costa was.

Almost.

He wore a sharp tux. His hair—shorter than I’d remembered, trimmed to perfection—was brushed back.

His gray eyes—usually flirting with the color blue—appeared almost metallic silver. His face was neutral and blank as an uninspiring painting in a waiting room.

When Daddy stepped aside and I positioned myself in front of him, Romeo surprised me by leaning forward, pressing his lips to my jawline.

Only, he wasn’t kissing my cheek.

That was just a show for our guests.

In reality, Romeo whispered in my ear, “Pull any tricks, and I assure you, your reputation won’t be the only thing I destroy.”

My brain short-circuited for a comeback. Blinking, I recognized the wedding officiant as a local priest from Chapel Falls.

Father Redd began the ceremony.

When my turn came to read from the vow book, I rattled off a wedding speech so cliché and so insincere, I was sure my soon-to-be-husband wanted to vomit from the tackiness.

Romeo breezed through his portion. Behind him, Oliver and Zach stood in designer tuxes.

Zach radiated impatience, flicking his eyes to his watch without lifting his wrist.

Despite his clean-cut charm and lovely manners, something dark lurked beneath his surface. Something just withdrawn enough to hint that he didn’t show his true colors to the world.

Meanwhile, Oliver—an open book full of colorful annotations—stared straight past me to my bridesmaids. If he thought Frankie was fair game, I had news for him, which I’d break right along with his balls.

Father Redd flipped a page in his officiant’s manual. “Do you, Romeo Niccolò Costa, take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Romeo laced his fingers through mine. They were cold and felt like clay. “I do.”

A charming smile slashed his face, dazzling the audience. It looked completely photoshopped.

“And do you, Dallas Maryanne Townsend, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Love and comfort him?

He was lucky not to leave the premises in an ambulance. My new dream was to contribute to his bodily scars with my own art.

“Hmm.”

Father Redd cleared his throat, chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“I do.” I spat out the words.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

I didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps a dignified peck to seal the deal. But Romeo Costa was just full of surprises.

Instead, he stepped forward, wrapped my waist with his strong arm, and jerked me into him. With blood-chilling possessiveness, he cupped the front of my throat, dipped my body, and crashed his mouth over mine, exerting punishing force.

The gesture declared one thing—mine.

In the background, people went wild, cheering and whistling. Laughter, music, and feminine voices raving about the iconic kiss filled the venue.

“…as epic as his marriage proposal…”

“…never seen a man so crazy in love…”

“…should be a movie…”

I was limp in his arms, even when his tongue darted out and pried my lips open, confidently licking, playing, and exploring the inside of my mouth.

This was a statement kiss.

A kiss designed to inform the world I was now his property.

Trespassers will be shot. Or worse.

I held my breath, ignored the slithering heat rolling down my spine that demanded I kiss him back, and waited for him to pull away. I refused to give in and participate in this debacle.

“Your submission is sweeter than whipped cream, Mrs. Costa.” He drew back, dragging his nose along the bridge of mine. “How’s life away from civilization? Learned how to make fire with rocks yet?”

My response came in the form of sinking my teeth into his lower lip until the taste of copper filled my mouth and I met the resistance of muscle and flesh.

He used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood, smirking.

“There she is. I was beginning to worry you lost your teeth.”

“You like my teeth?” I pretended to cradle his head, ogling him with mock-adoration. “Good, because you’re about to meet my claws.”

Then, because I wanted badly to hurt him back, I pulled out Madison’s ring, which Frankie had given me earlier, twisting it between my fingers.

“Maybe you need better cameras, hubby. I got hot and bothered while you were MIA, but the fire didn’t come from rocks.”

Was I actually alluding to having an affair with Madison?

It was reckless, dangerous, yet extremely satisfying.

The look on Romeo’s face, of a man on the cusp of starting a war, flooded me with adrenaline.

Refusing to show him how miserable I’d been the last few weeks, I smiled. “Enjoy our wedding.”

The wedding planner herded the guests to the reception area.

Oliver von Bismarck’s mansion boasted an entire full-sized ballroom. I swear, his place made the Shangri-La look like a Motel 6 lobby.

Round tables cloaked in white lace surrounded the dance area. Antique candelabra centerpieces adorned each. Rustic chandeliers, golden fixtures, and dozens of different flowers—all in white—ornamented the room.

I wished this event didn’t symbolize my demise, so I could appreciate the place for all its splendor.

As soon as I unglued myself from Romeo, Frankie appeared by my side, clutching my arm and anchoring me to safety. She was so beautiful, my eyeballs prickled.

She’d better find a good match. A true love after the sacrifice I’d made for her.

“I know we hate him, and in a second, I’ll get back to stabbing him with my glares, but I thought maybe you’d be comforted to hear Romeo’s kiss dampened every panty on the East Coast.”

“Not mine,” I lied. “Besides, there’s a ton of hot guys in this world.”

“Saying your husband is hot is like saying Mount Everest is hilly. Bitch is sizzling. I don’t know how you touch him without getting blisters.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her Romeo had stolen all of my Henry Plotkin books. I also didn’t want her to stab him with one of the decorative icicles that kept the vintage champagne bottles chilled.

Momma and Daddy joined us. Together, we visited each table from our side and thanked people for gracing us with their presence.

Presumably, Romeo did the same with his family, though I mentally checked out, trying to forget he was in the same room with me. It almost worked.

I’d just started to breathe properly—even the numbness in my fingers had gone away—when Daddy hauled me to the Lichts’ table.

As his best friend from Georgetown, Mr. Licht showed up despite the bad blood with the Costas. He wouldn’t pass on an opportunity to prove he was unaffected by the public fiasco.

“Dallas, congratulations, my dear. You look stunning.” Mrs. Licht patted the corners of her mouth with a napkin, though she hadn’t touched any of the delicious food in front of her.

I nodded, wooden. My gaze pinned to the floor.

I couldn’t look Madison in the eyes. Madison, who had let me choose my engagement ring. Who once promised me I could turn a room in his condo into my own library.

“Dallas.” His voice was impartial, not a trace of anger in it. I wanted to keel over. Even after his archenemy had sullied me, he still had kindness in him. “Look at me, please. I can’t…” He tossed his napkin onto his plate, rising to his feet. “I can’t bear for you to think that I’m mad at you. We weren’t really together. I understand.”

I dragged my gaze up from the floor.

Madison looked so familiar. With his All-American blond hair and brown eyes rimmed green around the fringes.

Though I felt nothing romantic toward him, I’d always assumed the feelings would come. That the comfort would bleed into happiness.

“Dallas.” He put his hand on my forearm. “Oh, Dal, please. Come with me.” He captured my hand. “Let’s wash your face.”

I let him lead me out of the ballroom. It was equally sweet and deranged of him to assume I’d let water touch my face after having my makeup done for three consecutive hours.

“I don’t want to wash my face.”

He stopped and turned to me, his hand still interlaced with mine. “Okay. Know what? Let me get you a plate of desserts. That always lifts your mood. Meet me out back.”

I felt comfortable sneaking out of my wedding to the back patio of the ballroom and sitting over the banister. After all, I couldn’t give one dang about whether someone discovered me with Madison.

The courtyard overlooked a small lake. Swans and ducks glided over the glacial water.

Madison appeared with a plate laden with pink and coral macarons, white-chocolate éclairs, and gold-specked fruit tarts. The desserts looked too beautiful to be eaten.

Nonetheless, I shoved a macaron down my throat, barely tasting it.

Madison sat beside me. “Better?”

I nodded, squinting at the never-ending rolling green hills and gardens bracketing von Bismarck’s property. “I’m really sorry, Mad—”

“Please, no more of this.” He patted my knee, smiling. “You and I both know you didn’t really cheat on me. We were always an arrangement. Don’t saddle yourself with unwarranted guilt. Was I disappointed? Yes. I liked you. I still like you, Dal. But you chose who you chose, and I accept that.”

Wanting badly to appease him and also unburden myself from the weight of the truth, I blurted out, “But I didn’t choose him at all. It was supposed to be one small kiss before I married you. Everything just snowballed, and now I’m stuck with…with…this beast.”

It felt good to be childish and authentic. With Madison, my childhood friend, I felt free to be a version of myself that would be thrown from the halls of polite and mature society.

Madison looked like the sky had fallen directly on his head. “Are you telling me you didn’t want to marry Costa?”

“No.” I tossed my hands up. “Daddy forced me after he caught us. Romeo planned this entire thing. He set me up.”

As I explained the chain of events to Madison, I knew in my heart that I wasn’t playing with fire, but rather a full-blown dynamite box.

But the temptation proved too much. If the slightest chance of Madison freeing me from this arrangement existed, I wanted to seize it.

It took me three minutes to explain everything.

After I did, he gathered my hands in his and faced me. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay married to him?”

I didn’t even need to think about it.

“Confident,” I said with conviction. “If there’s a way out in which my reputation can survive, I’ll take it.”

Madison bit his lip. “I can’t promise anything, but I think there’s a way to take him down.”

Take him down?

It all sounded so Riverdale.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. I made a mental note to bail on Madison’s plan if he formed a red circle.

“When will you let me know? Every minute spent in his house is torture.”

Especially since he confiscated the carbs.

Madison sighed, plowing his fingers into his hair. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this mess, Dal. Trust me, I never thought anyone could be as spiteful as to seek you out like this.”

“Could you call me when—”

“First thing’s first, keep an eye on him for me, will you?” he cut straight to business. “I’m sure he’s monitoring your devices, so don’t send me anything sensitive in texts. Just call, and we’ll meet up. Anything you have for me that smells fishy. Whether business-related or regarding his personal life.”

Was he…recruiting me to bring Romeo down?

I struggled to picture my husband getting caught red-handed doing something bad. He was more sophisticated than that.

If anything, he was always stupidly in control. Even when he introduced Scott the Co-pilot’s face to the airplane’s floor, he seemed calm and collected.

Withdrawing my hands from Madison’s, I snatched a fruit tart and nibbled on it. “What if I find nothing? He’s not exactly an open book.”

Madison pretended to look tormented. He really wasn’t a good actor. I’d seen better adult productions at Sav’s sleepovers.

“Well…I mean, depending on how hard you want to nail the son of a gun, you can always…manufacture an issue.” He chewed on his thumbnail, an old habit I always found off-putting. “You know, bring to light the horrible way he treats you. Anything at all that can tarnish his reputation. This is important, Dal. If you want Romeo Costa out of your life, out of our lives—”

“My, my, don’t you two look adorable together.” Slow, sarcastic claps followed the sharp voice. “The Beauty and the Yeast.”

Madison did look a little like bread dough.

Out strolled my new husband, twirling whisky in a highball glass, his steps long and confident.

He’d shed his blazer sometime during the event. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled all the way to his elbows, exposing tan, muscular forearms.

His hair looked slightly disheveled. Maybe Morgan had ruffled it while they disappeared in one of the twenty-three guest rooms together for a quickie.

My heart began pounding out of whack after I remembered that, when we’d last parted ways, I’d shown off Madison’s engagement ring.

The latter remained seated beside me.

Worse—he draped a hand over my knee, leveling Romeo with an undeterred glare. “I have my eye on you, Costa.”

“Your eyes are none of my concern. Your arm, however, is another matter. If you still want it attached to the rest of your body, I suggest you remove it from my wife’s lap.”

“Your wife.” Madison snorted. Still, he complied, dumping his hands between his legs. “All she is to you is a way to get back at me for strengthening our ties with the DOD and presenting an impeccable defense package that’s too hard to walk away from and twenty percent cheaper than what Costa Industries offers.”

“First, I suggest you use punctuation. That was one long-ass sentence.” Romeo blinked, as if Madison had spoken in another language. “Second, I wasn’t finished.”

“That so?”

Romeo spat his gum. It was the first time I’d seen him willingly part with the thing. “Consider this my first, last, and final warning. Each time you come close to my wife, I’ll break a different bone of yours. I’m thinking of starting with the femur, though subject to change.”

Madison shot up. A blush snaked up his neck. “You have some nerve. After all you’ve done to me and Dallas—”

Stealing Madison’s seat, Romeo flicked lint from the sleeve of his shirt. “Please. This past year, there hasn’t been one event we’ve both attended where you didn’t end the night inside a leggy blonde who charges by the hour.”

Madison’s jaw tightened. He moved it back and forth. “Dallas and I had an agreement.”

Though no such agreement existed, I didn’t flinch.

“Interesting.” Romeo swathed an arm over my shoulder, his knuckles caressing the side of my throat, making my flesh warm and tingly. “Tell me, Mrs. Costa, are we going to have the same arrangement? Am I allowed to take on mistresses and parade them around town like prized horses?”

I’d rather die than give him permission to screw anyone else. Only because I didn’t want him to have fun.

“No.” I scowled. “You don’t deserve a free pass.”

“Guess I’ll have to make do with you, then, wifey.” He returned his attention to Madison. “I’ll give you one thing, Licht. You didn’t exaggerate where her looks are concerned. She is ravishing.” Romeo twisted his face to me, dragging his hot lips across my jawline. “Who could’ve guessed she is as delicious as she is spirited? My wife tells me you’ve had your fill.”

I shuddered inside my designer wedding gown, both from anger and arousal. My eyelids dropped, and I swallowed hard.

“No.” Madison’s reply reeked of resentment and frustration. “I did not.”

“Ah. Now I remember.” Romeo snapped his fingers, an evil hollow laugh escaping his throat. “She saved herself for you, didn’t she? Lucky me.”

Madison watched as Romeo scraped his teeth along my jawline, making my nipples strain against my corset.

“You may leave, Licht.” Romeo used his free hand to wave him off. “I’ve put my point across.” He scooped my chin, inhaling my neck as he buried his face in the crook. If only I had the strength to stop him, but it felt too good. “Tell me, Shortbread, will I have to wreck whatever ruins are left of poor Madison Licht’s life to ensure he keeps his hands off my bride?”

“I’m fond of him.”

He grabbed the back of my neck, angling my body down, so I hovered in the air between the banister and the thorny rose bushes below.

The only thing keeping me from falling straight into the mouth of a merciless sea of spikes was his kindness, and we both knew he was hardly familiar with the word, let alone the notion.

Sucking in a breath, my eyes fluttered open. Romeo’s face hovered less than an inch away from mine.

Madison had retired back to the ballroom sometime after Romeo’s threat to put him in a wheelchair.

“Let me be clear on one thing, Dallas Costa. You belong to me now. Deed done, contingency lifted, deal fully paid. If I catch Madison laying a finger on you again, that finger will be broken. If he kisses you, I’ll cut off his lips. If he fucks you…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. The sour taste of bile slammed into the back of my throat. Romeo flashed his teeth. “But I trust you’ll behave. Even your stupidity has its limits.”

“And you? I suppose you’re free to run around, cheating on me with Morgan left and right.”

“As long as you fulfill your duties as a wife…” His hold on me loosened. I could feel myself almost falling. I wanted badly to clutch his shirt, but I refused to show him my vulnerability. “You won’t have to worry about anyone else.”

Forcing my muscles to loosen, I sucked in a breath. I hovered an inch away from falling. He inclined me all the way down the banister, so most of my body dangled in the air.

Smiling through the pain, I spat into his face, “Worry? I’d deliver you straight to her door as a Christmas gift, given the chance.”

“How foolish can you be?” His face was up in mine, the question delivered with genuine curiosity. “Any girl with half a brain would fall to her knees trying to appease me.”

“I have an entire brain, and every single cell in it remembers how badly I hate you.”

“Madison doesn’t love you.” He stroked the edges of my jaw. “The only reason he gave you the time of the day today was because he wants you to conspire against me.”

“I know.” I smiled at him with a lethal dose of poison. “And I’m interested.”

I could feel it.

The moment his fingers itched to let me fall.

It was only by a miracle that he pulled both of us up from the banister, righting us on our feet. I panted hard. Cold dew adorned my forehead and arms.

Stumbling as far from him as I could, I made sure he never left my line of sight. I didn’t trust him. Romeo’s face had returned to its normal princely indifference.

“The good news is that we’ll have plenty of time to discuss your plans to ruin me on the plane.”

A frown touched my lips. “What plane?”

“Why, Shortbread, did you think I wouldn’t take you on a honeymoon?” He feigned surprise. “How else would our union appear believable?”

My face fell. I inched back. “That is wildly unnecessary.”

He stepped forward, erasing the distance between us again. “As always, we’re in disagreement. One must celebrate their change of status. Especially when all of D.C.’s royalty is watching closely.”

I tripped another step back. “We can do something local. Go to New York for a weekend, then split to different hotels.”

He advanced, a predator zeroing in on his next meal. “Had I thought we could get away with it, I’d have gladly disposed of you back home and gone my merry way. Nonetheless, you, my dear wife, spent every waking moment from the day we met trying to get rid of me, loudly and publicly. Ergo, we will board my plane to Paris for a long weekend in two hours, so get inside and say your goodbyes.”

My jaw nearly dropped.

He couldn’t be serious. I didn’t even get to spend time with Frankie, Momma, and Sav.

Never mind that. There was still a twelve-pound cake with my name on it. Literally.

Finally, there was no more room left for me to retreat. My back crashed against the glass of the patio door. “But…I don’t have a suitcase. And…and…clothes.”

“Cara packed you everything you need.” He pinned me against the glass, arms bracketing my head, fingers staining the glass. “Whipped cream excluded.”

“She doesn’t know me.”

“Hate to break it to you, but there’s more mystery in the contents of a hot dog than the contents of that little head of yours.”

“What about my passport?”

“Your mother gave it to me before the ceremony.”

Shoot.

She probably thought she’d done me a favor.

“I need to rest. The last few weeks have been so stressf—”

“Our mothers did all the work. You’ve been resting your entire life. This trip is happening whether you want it or not. Now go say your goodbyes.”

“I hate you.” I tried stomping on his foot, but he was quicker, pulling back.

“How unfortunate.” He leaned forward, lips skating over mine. “See, I don’t hate you one bit. In fact, you’re prime entertainment for me. Like a dozen circus clowns emerging from a tiny car. You’re an aerial act, Dallas. When you succeed—I’m impressed. When you fail—I’m amused. But I never, ever care enough to give you hate. That would require you to be my equal.”

His mouth was on mine now, touching but not yet kissing.

My heart jackhammered through my rib cage, threatening to tear my chest, leap between us, and splatter on his pristine snowy shirt, blood and all.

My eyes slammed shut of their own accord. My lips prepared to find his almost-familiar heat.

But instead of being cocooned once again in his addictive hold, a breeze of cool air slapped my face.

I opened my eyes and found Romeo two steps away, sneering down at me.

“So naïve.” He tsked. “You’re going to be spectacularly fun to break.”