جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 220

Irene"Neither." I lifted my chin to meet his intense gaze. "He was a nameless distraction. And he could have been a very entertaining one tonight, but thanks to your glare, the mood is officially dead."Romeo didn't look apologetic in the slightest. He slowly lowered his glass to the table. "Are you into those things?" He asked.A chuckle escaped my lips. I leaned back into the velvet cushions. "Why? Are you judging my coping mechanisms, Doctor? If you must know, I used to be a hooker."He just raised a brow without saying anything. My breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat. His soft lips slightly parted that looked so tempting, like they belonged in a sin I hadn’t decided to commit yet. And his eyes… oh, his eyes. Heavy-lidded, a little unfocused from the alcohol but still locked onto me with a heat that made my skin tighten.God, he looked ridiculously, unfairly sexy.I broke eye contact, rolling my eyes as alcohol made me significantly looser than I ever intended t

RomeoPain.That was the first thing I felt. It started as a dull throb behind my eyes.I groaned as I shifted my weight but the surface beneath me was wrong. It wasn't my mattress. It was firm, leather-scented and didn't move with me.I opened my eyes, then immediately squeezed them shut as the morning sun hit me like a physical assault."Christ." I rasped. My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of dry sand.I forced my eyes open again, bit by bit.I was in my penthouse. I recognized the minimalist grey ceiling and the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline. But I wasn't in my bed. The fabric beneath my cheek was cool leather, not my silk sheets. I was on my living room couch. Still in my suit."What the hell happened?" I muttered as I massaged my temple.I sat up too fast. The room spun.I gripped the coffee table, waiting for my stomach to settle. My memory was a broken mess. I remembered the clinic. I remembered the photo on the floor. Then, I remembe

IreneThe doorbell rang again.I jumped. My breathing was still ragged. My skin was still flushed and damp with sweat. I scrambled backward on the mattress, grabbing my comforter and pulling it over my bare legs as if the person on the other side of the door could somehow see exactly what I had just been doing.Ring."Go away." I whispered to the empty room.I assumed it was Adrian. He was exactly the type to show up unannounced after dark, with an absurdly large bouquet of flowers and a rehearsed apology. Or Beatrice, ready for round two of telling me how I was ruining my life.I swung my legs over the bed and dragged my hands through my tangled hair. I grabbed an oversized, faded grey hoodie off the back of my chair, pulling it quickly over my head. It hung down to my mid-thigh, barely covering the lacy panties I was still wearing but I didn't care. I just wanted whoever it was to leave.I marched out of my bedroom and down the short, narrow hallway of my apartment.I leaned towar

IreneI rolled my eyes and turned back to the cheap counter of my kitchen."You are infuriating." I muttered as a fresh wave of heat crept up my neck.As I reached up to grab the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey I kept for emergencies, I could feel Romeo's gaze tracking my every move. But I forced myself not to care."I am a doctor." He corrected smoothly from the doorway. "Patience and precision are my specialties.""You are also a trespasser who just broke into my apartment to interrogate me. So forgive me if I don't applaud your bedside manner." I said as I grabbed a half-empty bottle of cheap red wine from the counter and a single, slightly mismatched wine glass from the shelf. "I don't have top-shelf anything. I have a seven-euro Merlot that I usually use to tolerate my step-mother or tap water.""The vintage of champions." He noted dryly.I poured a generous measure of the dark red liquid and turned around, holding the glass out to him.Romeo stepped close enough to take it, b

RomeoI carefully shifted my weight off the plastic hose of the vacuum cleaner, silently praying the cheap plastic wouldn't snap under my body.My left shoulder was currently fighting a losing battle against the winter coats and my right foot was wedged between two shoeboxes. I was a Galante. And yet, here I was, trapped in a space, peering through the slanted wooden louvers of a closet door like a ridiculous teenager in a bad comedy.When I got out of here, I was going to bill her for the dry cleaning of my suit.I pressed my face closer to the slats just as the bedroom door pushed open.Irene stood in the center of the room. She had managed to pull on a pair of loose sweatpants, but she still looked entirely too small and entirely too panicked.Then, the documentary-watching accountant walked into my line of sight.I had expected a villain. Or at least someone mildly intimidating, given the sheer terror he had inspired in Irene. Instead, I found myself staring at a man who looked