Page 31 of From Rome, With Hate

I march past Rome, coming to a sudden stop when I get halfway down the hallway. Despite the size, there’s never been much to the cabin: one bedroom, one bathroom, an expansive living room and kitchen, with wall-to-ceiling glass doors facing the pond on Rome’s property.

I keep my feet anchored in the hallway, resting my chin on my shoulder as I gaze out the back window from here. The morning sun shimmers along the surface of the water. Birds tweet in the background, providing music to the serenity of upstate New York.

“I’m assuming you’re still thirsty. Hungry, even.” Rome brushes past me, heading straight for the kitchen. It’s been along time since I’ve seen him in this setting—one where he’s serving me. It’s jarring, to say the least.

His head disappears behind the refrigerator door before he reemerges with two bottles of water and a bowl of fresh strawberries. He sets one of the bottles in front of me, along with the bowl of strawberries. I didn’t think Rome came here often enough to keep fresh fruit.

“Eat.” He points to the strawberries.

I watch as he cracks open his bottle of water and lifts it to his mouth to take a large drink. He stretches his neck, the wings of his bird tattoo extending along with the tight muscles.

Heat pools in my lower stomach again.

Through the vacant spaces between his tattoo, I swear I see dark purple and yellow spots, but I could be wrong. I clear my throat and pick up a strawberry, trying not to stare for too long.

“You didn’t bring me here just to feed me fresh strawberries, did you?” I narrow my gaze before biting into the end. Juice bursts onto my tongue, filling my mouth.

Fuck, that tastes good.Conscious Rome is watching me intently, though, I fight back a satisfied moan.

“No,” he chuckles, a dimple forming in his right cheek. Of all the sharp edges Rome Montgomery has, there’s a subtle softness to him. “I want you to redecorate the house.”

I blanche, pulling the strawberry away from my mouth. “What?”

“I told you outside, you’re a talented interior designer.” He gestures toward me. “The best in New York City, if not the entire country. I want you to redecorate the house.”

“Really?” I raise my brows. “That’s it? You want me to redecorate your cabin in exchange for the article?”

His eyes shift to the left before they’re back on me. “Yes.”

Suspicion eats away at me. Things with Rome are never as simple or as dry cut as they appear. There’s always a catch. But Igive him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he just made a big deal about bringing me here because he knew I wouldn’t go willingly if he told me back in New York. This place holds too many of our secrets.

I survey the main area from where I’m standing. I’ve always thought the house was beautifully decorated and never needed an update. Timeless touches and family mementos litter every surface of the house. I still believe it doesn’t need work, but if doing my job is all Rome wants in exchange for my scathing article, I’ll do it.

“Okay.” I grab another strawberry. “When I get back home, I’ll come up with a design plan and send it to you.”

“Oh.” Rome takes a drink from his water and swallows. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean? That’s how I work with all my clients. I come up with a design plan and send the renderings to you for approval.”

“Not with me. I’m not a client.” He shakes his head. “I’m your?—”

“I know exactly what you are.” I drop my strawberry and shove the bowl forward.

“You’ll be staying here for the job. Full time.”

“Ah.” I click my tongue. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said you were abducting me. There’s no fucking way I’m staying here as your prisoner, Rome.”

He winces, massaging his fingers over his lips. His snake tattoo peeks out from the sleeve of his suit, and I suddenly remember how dark Rome’s past is. “You don’t really have a choice. You nearly fucked over my life, remember?”

“Your family was already to blame for that, don’t you think?”

“I’ve spent years working to get away from them, and you know it. You almost ruined it with your petty little article.”

Tears build behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them shed. See, the thing is, what Rome and I were doing these past few months might have appeared petty, but it wasn’t. Like the way we talk to each other, it comes from somewhere deep inside us, caught between a fuel of love and hate. And while Rome has worked to better his life without the baggage of his family’s name, I’ve done the same.

I twist my mouth, gnawing on my bottom lip until the feeling of being here becomes too much. “No, I don’t want to do this. I can’t be here.” I wave my arms at my sides, spinning around. “I’ll do anything else to repay you, but not this.”

I leave Rome in the kitchen, rush down the hallway, and head back toward the front door. I hurry down the steps of the front porch, nearly losing my footing, only to catch myself on the wooden railing and look up just in time to see Marcus finally stepping out of the car.