Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Right now, the only reason I had to keep him at arm’s length had everything to do with protecting myself and my son. But the main reason, the main wall that had stood between us, had been obliterated the minute Tristian died.

All I had left was my hatred for the man who told me he loved me with one breath, then exhaled poison with the next.

I had to remember who Romeo was.

I had to remember who I was.

Even if that meant digging up every painful memory, every hateful experience, and every rejection he threw my way. Yes, even if it meant remembering what I wanted to forget.

I fell for him once.

Loved him with my soul.

Only to have him laugh in my face.

He was nothing to me.

Nothing, but a bodyguard.

Nothing but my husband’s brother.

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Nothing at all.

Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him and our future all damn day?

Eden’s [POV]

Then: Two years later I hadn’t seen him since he’d held back my hair in the bathroom when I was still pregnant with Nazario, who we now called Naz for short.

Romeo, He hadn’t so much as said goodbye, and I’ll see you later, a take care.

Nothing, not one damn thing.

I knew in my heart it was my husband’s doing. He threw his brother out of our lives without thinking twice about it. I could see the remorse in his gaze when someone brought up Romeo’s name in our presence. Everyone said Romeo was just busy.

Traveling, working, and killing.

He’d become more ruthless. The man I remembered was gone. In his place stood a monster I didn’t know I’d ever see again. I thought about him often.

When I was alone.

With company.

In his brother’s arms.

Especially in moments like these where he used to show up only for me. A handful of gifts in tow. I had no idea how he’d figured it out, but every year on my birthday, his presents were things I’d seen throughout the year that I wanted. One year it was this snow globe of The Rockefeller Center, another it was a historical novel written by my favorite author that was signed and personalized to me.

The best was when he reserved an air balloon ride over the Hamptons at dawn. He went with me. To see the world come alive with him standing by my side was a memory I’d take to my grave. If I closed my eyes, I could still see us there on top of the world.

The man knew no bounds, and each year he proved how much he truly knew me. Last year was the first time I didn’t see him, nor did I receive anything in the mail from him. It was like he’d fallen off the face of the earth or worse…

I had.

His brother was the complete opposite of him, whereas Romeo was sentimental; his brother was over the top. This year I received a diamond tennis bracelet engraved with my birthday and the year that we were in as if Tristian wanted me to remember when and who gave it to me. Every year it was diamonds, luxury cars, clothes, shoes, you name it, he probably gave it to me at some point.

That’s how different the brothers were. One wanted to own my soul while the other wanted my heart. There were days when I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

I couldn’t tell you how many times I contemplated calling, writing, and showing up at his penthouse unannounced. I never did. I couldn’t. Rejection was a bitch, and I wasn’t ready to have him tell me to go home once again. I barely survived it the first time. There was no escaping my conscience. Not when it came to him. The mere fact I was still thinking about him made me feel like I was the biggest piece of shit human.

Woman.

Wife.

The more I tried to forget about him, the harder it was. It didn’t help that Tristian was home less and less, and when he was, we pretended to be this perfect little family. Though in my heart, my soul, something was off. Almost overnight, his brother was out of our lives, and it gave my husband this insecurity I’d never seen or experienced before. He couldn’t hear his name without tensing, spewing hate, or arguing with whoever brought him up.

Romeo became his rival.

His enemy.

The villain in our lives and this tainted love story.

I loved Tristian. However, the longer we were together, the more apparent it became that maybe I was never in love with him, to begin with. I wanted to be.

I tried.

I begged.

I prayed.

When I looked into Tristian’s eyes, all I saw was pain where there had once been so much affection.

Devotion.

Love.

Something had changed. Three years of marriage, and it was like we’d turned into different people.

Wants.

Needs.

Expectations.

This future I thought we’d have wasn’t at arm’s length any longer; it was miles upon miles of distance away. Every time I thought we were close, we were almost there, an issue would arise, and we’d find ourselves on opposite sides of the fence, still looking toward a future we may never have.

Further and further, it flew out of our paths.

As much as I told myself not to do it, I texted him this morning.

Two words, so many meanings, and what happened?

He never replied, which simply brought on more unexplained heartache.

More confusion, more questions, and no answers to them.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed with his lack of response, interest, attention, or concern. I read the text message probably a hundred times throughout the day.

Waiting, for my twenty-fourth birthday.

At my party for he to give me something.

The Sinacore family never did anything half-ass; this event was another outlandish celebration where they proved who was in power and needed to be respected.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, Red?” Tristian remarked, wrapping his arms around my body from behind me. Tearing my thoughts away from the life I lived in.

I froze and stiffened.

There was no denying it, no hiding, and especially, no lying.

“Are you all right?” he quickly addressed the elephant in the room.

Me, we were on the dance floor; suddenly, it felt as though all eyes were on us, and the room was closing in on me.

I spun around to face him, setting my trembling hands on his solid chest. He was wearing a black tuxedo, looking as handsome as ever. Reminding me why I fell for him in the first place.

With my eyes settled upon his, I questioned in a steady tone, “Why did you call me that?”

For a brief second, he flinched, showing how our marriage was hanging on by a thread. His gaze raked over my dress; I was wearing a light-peach strapless gown that hugged my curves perfectly; it subtly flowed out down by my knees. My hair was curled and tied to the right side of my head, with a few strands of hair framing my face. My makeup was heavy on the eyes with dark black eyeliner and thick mascara. Some blush and a soft shade of nude for my pouty lips.

In a matter of a few seconds, his stare went from endearing like he was trying to make a memory of me to defensive, sad, angry…

It happened in the blink of an eye. He challenged, “Is Romeo the only man who can call you that, Red?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?”

“Why would I do that, darling? I won the girl.”

“Won? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means my ring is on your finger, so you need to remember that.”

“Tristian, what the hell-”

He grabbed my hand molding me close to his body, pulling me tighter into his strong, muscular frame. He guided my arms up around his neck with no space between us before wrapping his arms around me, proving my point.

“Just dance with me.”

I swallowed hard and nodded at his request, not wanting to make a scene when everyone was happy, enjoying themselves and the party. Sighing in defeat, I laid my cheek on his chest, and he placed his chin on top of my head.

“Why can’t it always be like this?”

“What do you mean?” I countered, peering up at his sincere expression.

“Simple. Easy. All I’ve ever wanted was you, Eden. You know that, right?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Your silence is deafening, Red.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

He scoffed out, “Now for that, I get a genuine response?”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re trying to get at. I wouldn’t have married you”

“If my brother hadn’t given you up? Where is he now, Eden? Because I haven’t seen him in two years. I’m the one who’s been here with you. Don’t you see that?”

“Whose fault is that, Tristian? What did you say to him?”

“The truth.”

“Which is what? What’s the truth?”

“That he needed to stay away from us.”

“Us? Or me?”

“My family.”

“Interesting statement considering he’s your brother.”

“Fuck him.”

“Tristian!” I said a little too loudly.

He learned, breathing into my ear, “Oh wait, I forgot. You already did that. Have you spread your legs since the last time he took what was mine?”

I shoved him, unable to hold back.

“Eden, shit.” He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking. I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you seem to do that a lot.”

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” His easy smile was back, his eyes drilling into mine as he needed me to believe him this time when it was always the same argument.

“You know what they say; a drunk person speaks the truth.”

“Then, you should start drinking so I can get it from you.”

The conflicting emotions came tumbling down on me, crippling me. I suddenly needed some fresh air, a moment to myself.

To think, to breathe, and to cry.

I hated showing weakness in front of anyone. Before he could throw more poison, I snapped around, making my way toward the outside rose garden of the banquets where my birthday was being held, and I could be alone. Giving him my indifference the instant I stepped into the exquisite garden where intricate roses lined every step in my direction.

Inhaling a long, deep, sturdy breath, I stood in front of the fountain in the center of the garden, trying to distract myself from the water and the soft glow it gave everything around me. Usually, this view would have me awestruck and at peace, but I couldn’t stop the emotions that were consuming my mind and body.

And then just like that, it unexpectedly changed…

For the first time in two years, I felt him, Romeo