Page 7 of From Rome, With Hate

Just when I’ve managed to turn my focus on the business at hand, I get distracted again.

A certain brunette dressed in muted colors steals my attention. Julianna’s head is tipped up as she reads the descending numbers above the lift. Once it arrives and the doors open, she steps inside, a bottle of champagne snugly tucked under each of her arms. She ungracefully tries to balance both bottles as she sticks her finger out to choose her level. The doors slowly begin to close, but not before her eyes lift and catch me watching her. Just before the doors shut, she narrows her bittergaze at me, then pins one bottle against herself as she twists her wrist, giving me a stiff middle finger.

I can’t help the laugh vibrating across my chest, and my reaction pisses her off even more than her initial sighting of me.

Good.

I give her a snarl before she disappears behind the shining golden doors. Once she’s gone, I head toward the service hallway, leading to the parking garage, where my car is waiting for me. I push through the black door at the end of the hallway; nerves humming through my veins when my blacked-out SUV comes into view. Once I step outside, it feels as if the Egan wedding and the ballroom filled with Capuletis, and Julianna, are worlds away.

“Take a little detour, Mr. Montgomery?” Marcus asks, holding the back passenger door open for me.

Marcus has been a friend of the family for decades, practically slipping into an older brother type role, made easy by the fact that he’s only five years older than me. Even though I’ve known him nearly my entire life, though, he still insists on calling me Mr. Montgomery. I stopped correcting him years ago.

“No detour, Marcus.” I exhale hotly through my nostrils, forcing myself to let my conversation with Julianna fade into the background. My anxiety is already through the fucking roof. I don’t need that woman adding to it.

“Distraction, then?” His dark eyebrows rise, and his head tilts back toward the hotel. What the fuck? Has he been watching me this whole time?

“Fuck. No. I met with the hotel manager, and we went over the expenditure report for the next quarter of the year. Exactly what I’m meant to do as the newest investor of this hotel. Everything after that just happened to unfold in passing.” I adjust the cuffs of my black suit sleeves, frustration eating awayat me. “We’re going to be late if we stand here talking about meaningless bullshit like this.”

I slip into the backseat, hoping Marcus will drop this conversation, but I’m not so lucky once he sits behind the wheel and starts driving toward the garage exit.

“Mr. Montgomery. I didn’t…” He eyes me through the rearview mirror. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried you aren’t focused, and I know Jul?—"

“I’m fine.” Resting my elbow on the edge of the door, I run my thumb across my bottom lip and watch the city pass us by as we head toward my newest nightclub, Club Verona.

“Yep. Of course you are,” Marcus answers quietly. “But you’d better be ready. Don’t let that little Capuleti spitfire get you distracted. And before you give me shit, I have every right to share my concerns with you. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Marcus tends to switch seamlessly between his role of bodyguard and the overprotective brother. Right now, though, this conversation is only making things worse.

“Are you suggesting I can’t control where my focus lies?” I ask, digging my fingers into my knee.

“No,” he mutters, considering his answer. “I wouldn’t blame you, though, if?—"

“I told you I was fine, Marcus,” I insist, hoping my answer will finally kill this conversation. I’m not so lucky.

“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

“I didn’t, and I don’t.”

“You’re telling me seeing Julianna or, shit, even Kingsten, as well as about half of the Capuleti family inyourhotel didn’t just piss you off? Even a little?”

The same fire I felt earlier at seeing Julianna Capuleti and her entire family sparks in my chest again. Right now, I know it’s impossible for me to hide the way seeing them here has made mefeel. Kingsten, Holt, Julianna… They all fill me with hatred and anger.

“The Capuletis are fucking ignorant.” I attempt to sound bored, not half as bothered as Marcus suspects. “If my face and family name are such a fucking threat, maybe they should do a little research into who owns the hotel hosting the wedding and reception before deciding to attend. I had every right to make my presence known.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick them out, or worse.”

“Me, too.” I sigh heavily again. “I just needed to make something abundantly clear to Julianna before heading into this meeting.”

“So, that’s why you were talking with her? You found a way for her to repay her debt?”

I fight the memories threatening to distract me, once again, then I shut them off, before they eat me alive. “Just get us to Club Verona, Marcus.”

“Yes, sir.” He pauses before cutting the silence again. “Was risky, you know.”

“What was risky?” I mutter against my clenched fist pressed to my mouth.

“You walking in there as if one of them simply seeing your face wouldn’t have gotten you killed.”