My Dark Romeo: Chapter 49

I resisted the urge to check on Shortbread through the cameras.

Unlike Senior, I honored promises and contracts I committed to.

I kept opening my desk drawer. Each time I did, I cooled off a little more.

A Glock 19 nestled inside. Unloaded. A comfort blanket of sorts.

Every time Senior drove me to the brink of madness, I’d stare at it and remind myself he’d soon be dead. Nothing but a distant memory and rotting bones.

His impending death put me in a decent mood, but eventually, my mind circled back to the sight of him touching Dallas.

If I’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened. As it was, I’d locked myself in the helicopter as a preventative measure.

What, precisely, was I preventing? Making good on my threat to pluck out the eyeballs of everyone who’d gaped at her.

In the helicopter, I nursed a tumbler of whisky, crushing it from the blunt force of my fist. The glass sliced through my skin. Cara had to stitch me up once she returned from escorting Dallas home.

As for Senior, I should’ve known he couldn’t help himself. Shouldn’t have assumed he had no interest in her, just because he’d only taken Morgan as a lesson for me.

But Dallas wasn’t Morgan.

She was indisputably, irrevocably mine.

An utterly nonnegotiable constant in my life.

One I’d go to frightening lengths to broadcast.

Including, apparently, calling her a slut.

Few words revolted me. This one did. There existed no creature more spineless than a chauvinist, which I’d exhibited in spectacular fashion.

Today marked my first time using it.

And my last time.

Wielding it to goad her was an act of juvenile rebellion. An apology was in order.

Since I’d never apologized to anyone in my life, I was ninety-nine percent sure I’d fuck it up. Also—that seemed to be the general theme of our marriage.

Cara breezed into the office with the documents I’d requested. “I forgot to tell you something. I found it so endearing.”

She always found charming things about Dallas, though whenever they shared a room, she hardly doled out positive attention.

I slammed my drawer shut, accepting the speech she’d printed. “I doubt I’ll share the sentiment, but carry on.”

“She changed into her pajamas as soon as she set foot inside.”

“Are you sure the word you were looking for is endearing and not lazy?”

“But what she did after that, when she thought I wasn’t looking, was so sweet. She dragged your coat around the house like it was a little fluffy toy, sniffing it when she thought no one was looking.”

Shortbread had begun to show signs of domestication. You’d think I’d take pleasure in that. After all, I wanted to keep her.

Sadly, it brought me no pleasure to see my naïve wife confusing lust with something deeper.

I wasn’t a lovable creature.

I wouldn’t pretend to be one.

I skimmed the speech, lips pursed, making quick changes before the urgent press conference I’d scheduled an hour from now. “Thank you, Cara.”

“And if it makes any difference at all…” Cara loitered, sighing. “She looked really shaken about what happened. I think she regrets it. I do, Rom.”

I hated that Cara knew Morgan cheated on me with Senior.

Hated that she’d broken the news, requesting my urgent presence at the penthouse all those years ago, because she’d known I needed to find them myself to believe it.

“I’m utterly disinterested in my wife’s mental state.” I stood, handing her the speech changes while snapping my gum, surprised my jaw was still intact with how excessively I’d chewed today. “Have this edited, proofread, and returned to me in the next twenty minutes. And get me my gold tie. The one best suited for cameras.”

She pulled a face, accepting the papers. “You’re projecting, Rom. Dallas isn’t Morgan. She’s just a kid. A wild kid but a good one. She shouldn’t pay for Morgan’s sins.”

Shortbread wasn’t Morgan, all right.

She would never be in a position to hurt me.

My walls were too tall, too thick, too cold for her to slip through.