AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I stammer. “If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s stupid, I just wondered why you brought up your cousin.”
“Right.” He glances down at his shoes. “Well, what do you think?”
Under Montague he’d listed himself and Bennet and under Capulet he’d put a question mark, which really summed up the entire thing for me. Aside from that, almost every house had someone represented, even house Hathaway which I thought might be a problem. I nod at most of them, giving my silent assent.
“Why Violet Cesario? Aren’t you friends with Sebastian?”
His gaze turns unexpectedly dark. “I don’t want him there.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”
“I just don’t. Violet was friends with Marcia, she’ll do it.”
We fall silent. The drizzle turns into rain so heavy, I have virtually no idea where we are. Hell, without the GPS I’m pretty sure Roman wouldn’t either. Yet, somehow, we manage to pull into a winding little driveway off the main road without much trouble. I grimace, and steel myself to get out of the car. I wish I brought an umbrella.
As if reading my mind, Roman leans over my lap to open the glove compartment. He pulls out a little fold up umbrella with his father’s company logo on it and hands it to me. “Here.”
I stare down at it, an odd mix of feelings washing over me. It’s like warmth, passing over the back of my neck and down my arms and leaving too-cold goosebumps in their wake. Like, the physical manifestation of one emotion bleeding into another. It’s a bit overwhelming for a single umbrella.
I’m not sure I like this. Not sure I can handle this.
It’s just a stupid umbrella, but I don’t want him to start trying to take care of me even unconsciously. That’s not what this is. That’s not what this was ever supposed to be.
I’ve only ever been alone, and I’ll be alone again one day. Just the thought earlier, of if Roman and I would be keeping up this ruse for decades should have been enough to give me this wake-up call. That’s crazy. There’s no chance we’ll do that. This arrangement may not have an expiration date stamped in black and white, but common sense says there is one. Maybe when our parents retire, which could be as early as a few years. The minimum age to sit on the council is twenty-five. Roman is only three years off, and I’m eight months behind him.
I can’t let myself start to rely on someone who isn’t a real fixture in my life—who isn’t capable of that. I can’t let myself start to believe this is more than the business arrangement that it is.
I shake my head,no. “Thanks. I’m all set.”
“Suit yourself.” Roman cocks an eyebrow at me, and grasps my upper thigh for a moment before getting out of the car. “Careful of the wind, good girl.”
The damp air is cool against my face as I step onto the pavement, water pelting my hair and dead leaves whipping at my ankles. A cacophony of crickets and marsh toads chirp, and a nearby river rushes in the distance.
Councilman Lawrence’s house is the exact opposite from what I’d expect. Rather than one of the stunning estates on several acres, we pull up in front of a tiny bungalow with two-tone wooden shingles and a well-kept front porch. Two Adirondack chairs sit on the porch, and a pile of firewood lays in disarray in the side yard beside an overgrown rose bush.
“Is this the right place?”
Roman shakes out his wet hair, not looking at me as he replies. “Definitely. Why?”
“Just not what I was picturing. It’s very…” ‘Normal’ I think is the right word, but I don’t want to say that. “Out of character.”
Not that there’s anything wrong with my house, or Romans, or any of the other houses of Order members. There isn’t, yet I’m painfully aware that any one of them could house thirty people at any given moment, and would be better suited to use as the set of some gothic revival movie than an actual residence for three. Lawrence’s house looks normal, like an actual residential home, and a stab of jealousy I can’t explain stabs through me at the sight of it.
“I’m positive this is it.” Roman says with a shrug. “Are you ready?”
I shake myself, and draw in a breath. “Yes, of course.”
The damp pavement and wet leaves slip under my boots as we dash from the car to the front porch. The freezing rain soaks through my hair in less than thirty-seconds, and I hate myself for not bringing an umbrella.
“Here,” Roman tugs off his scarf and tries to hand it to me.
I turn on the front step to look up at him, bewildered. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead and his dark, intense eyes seem to penetrate through me. “What’s that for?”
In answer, he uses the end of the scarf to dab at the water streaming down the side of my face. I suck in a breath at his nearness, and our gazes connect. Suddenly, I’m not so cold anymore.
The door opens with a creak so loud I jump. We spring apart, and I feel like a teenager caught breaking the rules. Heat rises up the back of my neck, and without thinking I snatch the scarf and toss it over my shoulder like some kind of sash. Distantly, I wonder if the scarf will join Roman’s suit jacket in a ball at the bottom of my closet—like a dead body I’m ashamed of and trying to hide.
Turning, I meet the gaze of Councilman Lawrence standing in the doorway. His white hair is a little less perfectly combed today than I’m used to seeing at events, but I immediately notice that he’s dressed as if to go out in a dark brown wool blazer and collared shirt.
