Jule frowned at the description. A poet? Rom? Perhaps of death dirges, but love sonnets? Didn’t seem likely. “That may be true, but I don’t think he cares what happens to my career, or me.”
Valerio took her hand where it gripped the scrolled chair arm. “Jule. This is Ben talking. Not Rom’s lawyer, but a man who would like to do some good where only wrong has been done.” He paused and Jule waited, touched by his honesty. The man seemed to breathe truth and justice. She could see it in his eyes and his smile, the way his body language spoke reassuring confidence.
“I’ll tell you where to find Rom, if that’s what you want. I’ll even put you on a plane to Verona if that’s what it takes to end this thing right. He didn’t ask me to tell you this. I’m telling you this for his sake. He needs to be reminded what life’s all about. Living.
“Unless you protest, I’m ready to petition the court to strike the contract your father and Mascaro have filed and can leak to the media everything I have on Mascaro’s illegal business. By the time this whole thing is over, Mascaro won’t be considering wedding plans or property, he’ll be considering what book to read while he lounges in federal prison.”
Jule fought the tears and stared at Ben through a blurry haze.
“Now just tell me what you want to do,” Ben said.
…
Jule pushed back against the hard wooden ribs of the restaurant chair until she felt each turn of the wood in painful detail.
She’d tracked her parents down at Vespa’s, the neighborhood trattoria owned by one of her mother’s sisters, Stephanie.
“I don’t understand why you did this,” she told her father, completely undone by his admission of “trying to do the right thing.”
“Don’t you? Think about it, Jule. You’re twenty-five and divorced. You’re nearly penniless. Living with your mother and I,” her father said.
“Jule, sweetheart,” her mother tried to interrupt, but Jule silenced her with a glare.
“Don’t be mad at your mother. She didn’t know anything about this. It was my decision.”
“That’s my point, Pop. It’s not your decision. Marriage. Children. Those things are up to me. Selling me off to Pio to alleviate your debts is unforgivable no matter how you package it as being in my best interest.”
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed heads turning in her direction and caught the worried look of her mother. The one that said, “please be reasonable.”
Causing a scene was the least of her worries. And her mother would get over it. Jule didn’t know if she ever would.
“You’re wrong about Pio. He truly cares for you. Independent of me, the man loves you and always has.” His eyes warmed in the lamplight and Jule refused the lure of forgive and forget. It was her life they were talking about here.
“I put him off as long as I could hoping you would find your own way, but now I think it’s time you settled down and Pio will do right by you. You won’t have to associate with men like Rom Montgomery. Plus, you’ll be financially secure and you’ll be moving in the circles you were accustomed to once upon a time.”
“I don’t care about money or social standing. All the years we had money, it never meant anything to me. Didn’t you get that when I went away to a state school?”
Her Aunt Stephanie showed up on Jule’s right, bending until she was on level with the trio around the table. “Do you guys want to take it in the back lounge where it’s more private? People are starting to stare.”
“No. We’re done here.” Jule pushed her chair back, but her father’s hand clamped down on her wrist.
“Don’t see Montgomery again.”
“Give us another minute, Steph. We promise to be quiet,” her mother said, filling the silent gap to placate Stephanie while her father kept her from leaving.
“You can’t forbid me to see people, Pop. I’m not a child.”
“You’re not. True. It’s just that we love you and do desire only the best for our oldest daughter.” He patted her arm in apology as he let go of her wrist.
Her mother nodded in agreement.
And like that, most of Jule’s anger dissolved. Mostly. “Believe it or not, I love the both of you. But I can’t be around you unless you call off this, this, engagement, or whatever you want to call it.”
Her father lowered his eyes for the first time since Jule had sat down at their table. The bud of near panic she’d felt in Valerio’s office bloomed into full-blown dread.
“I can’t, Jule. I can’t,” he said without raising his head.
Jule glanced at her mother in question, who in turn looked at her father, concern furrowing her brow.
“What do you mean you can’t?” Jule asked.
“I already spent the money he gave me.”
…
Rom pushed the stick shift into neutral and set the parking brake, stalling for time as he looked through the Mercedes’ windshield to Piazza Bra. Beyond the tops of the evergreens growing in a small central park, he could make out the imposing edifice of the two thousand year old Roman Arena.
On the surface, the gateway into the heart of old Verona hadn’t changed much in the 600 years he’d been gone. The Portoni della Bra—the twin, barrel-vaulted stone arches topped by fourteenth century battlements—still stood at one end, admitting pedestrians to admire the majesty of the Roman Empire and all it had wrought. Visitors passed through on their way to the Arena, built 1400 years before Rom ever took his first breath of Veronese air.
Lined by palaces newly built when Rom left, the open market area still teemed with people. Here, locals and foreigners alike shopped, ate, drank espressos, and simply passed through to other streets pin-wheeling off the piazza. But under the larger than life remnants of the Roman Empire and the grandeur of the Venetian Republic, Rom took note of the modern changes.
Commercial signage of the 21st century decorated much of the piazza, along with scooters, public phones, and scaffolding blanketing the Arena. Tourists in hiking shoes and backpacks wandered freely across the triangle shaped plaza, stopping to take pictures and listen to street performers. Everywhere, people had cell phones, either pressed to an ear or in hand.
The liston—marble pavers fronting the buildings—were new, too. Put down for the ruling classes over 200 years ago to save their feet from the dust, Rom agreed with the red and cream tones of the marble as it suited the square.
He lowered the window on the Mercedes, letting in the surrounding street noise. The coos of nearby pigeons provided a soft undertone to the human chatter. The same sounds he’d heard as a young man. But yet not the same, Rom decided.
Different languages reached his ears. English and Japanese.
The subtle fragrance of the river Adige, a longtime friend embracing the ancient city like a mantle, reached him through the open window. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat, letting the sounds and smells take him to the banks of glassy green waters.
...
“But why me, Lawrence? Why choose me to test your potions on?” Romeo leaned his head against the cool stone of his monk’s cell, temporary lodgings since he could never show his face in Verona again while those he knew and loved still lived.
He could return when they died, but he saw no point then.
“I didn’t choose you, dear boy. That is what I have been trying to tell you. I didn’t know the potion would work, but I had to try. I had to do something.”
Lawrence folded his hands into the wide arms of his friar’s robes and looked forlornly around the room. With nothing to distract his attention but a single cot and bedside table with a solitary candle, Lawrence’s tormented gaze fell on Romeo again.
Romeo knew Lawrence felt compelled, nay, responsible for him and therefore insisted on visiting him in this abandoned side of the monastery. Its ancient and moldy rooms, built hundreds of years before the newer wings of the building, appealed to Romeo’s mood and his need for isolation. But Lawrence wouldn’t let him alone.
<
br /> “You should have left me to die.”
Lawrence leapt at the statement, his eyes pleading for understanding. “But it’s not right, what transpired. Everything went wrong. And then Paris arrived bringing further pain and tragedy. That’s a forever kind of curse he issued against you, Romeo. Coming from one also wronged, his curse has the power to hold throughout the centuries and keep you from finding peace. I had to do something to complete my role. Give you another chance to right these wrongs.”
Romeo shook his head. He’d heard it before. This time didn’t make any difference. “I should have let Paris kill me. At least I wouldn’t be here with you looking out across forever.”
Lawrence kept a rein on his impatience. White lines around his mouth and eyes spoke of the pressure to stay quiet, a struggle plain and clear. There had been outbursts before as a result of these discussions. The man driven to frustration and anger over Romeo’s denial of “his gift.”
Lawrence held himself responsible for the tragedy. He counseled Juliet to take the potion and pretend the death Romeo took as truth.
In the end, what other choice did he have except to consume the poison? To die with Juliet?
But she hadn’t been dead! Not until she shoved the blade of the dagger under her ribs.
The secrets, lies, and misunderstandings that shadowed their short courtship and marriage followed them into the grave and continued with Romeo’s withdrawal from Verona.
He would live a lie for all eternity. Just not as Romeo Montague. That boy died.
“There will be another time, Romeo. You have to wait and watch. Stay vigilant. You’ll know when it’s time. You’ll know what to do.”
“Words are little comfort when even you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I have foreseen it. It will come to pass. God will show me the how in time. Fate suffered a blow that night, knocking your path down a new fork. That road will eventually lead back to the beginning. It always does.”
...
Rom didn’t wait for Lawrence to discover God’s intent. He’d packed the few items he’d salvaged from his former life and struck out. Alone. Heading north into the mountains. Into the unknown. Into a life as a mercenary.
If death be denied him, then death be his calling.
But perhaps he should have waited. Lawrence did discover the answer and couldn’t find Rom to tell him. And so Lawrence had left him a message. A message that would endure, however many centuries it took to find Rom in Chicago.
Rom only need find the rest of the message now. To go back to the beginning.
But first, he needed to visit Juliet. If he could still find her.
Chapter Eight
It seemed all her bridges had burned in a matter of twenty-four hours. Each time Jule tried to fall back to safety, another one went up in flame.
She collapsed onto her bed, trying to keep the tears at bay. Her eyes burned with the effort, but not a single tear escaped.
She channeled her frustration and surveyed her belongings in the room, considering the effort it would take to find a new place and move.
She couldn’t live under her father’s roof anymore. Not after tonight.
“Jule, why the long face?”
She jerked up into a sitting position to find Pio lounging in the doorway to her bedroom.
Jule flew off the bed to meet Pio standing up, her heart pounding with surprise.
He appeared as he always did after business hours, jacketless, but with his tie still firmly knotted at the throat of a crisp dress shirt.
He also wore his trademark patient smile.
“What are you doing here?” More importantly, “How did you get in?”
“Darling, I have a key to the house. Your father gave it to me years ago. I’ve used it dozens of times.” He straightened from his casual slouch and gave her body a quick inspection. “Are you all right? You don’t seem yourself.”
“I’ve had some disappointments today, you know, unexpected news.”
“I see.” Pio moved into the room without an invitation and sat on the edge of her desk with his legs folded neatly at the ankles.
“Your father told you then? That we’re to be married.”
“He confirmed what I’d already heard from someone else. When exactly did the two of you plan to include me in this little arrangement?”
“What did you hear? And from whom?”
“It doesn’t matter who told me—”
“Of course it does. This is supposed to be our special time and I have everything planned. If someone is going to be so ungracious as to spoil it, I’d like the opportunity to have a word.”
“You care more about who told me than the fact this is something I don’t want?”
Her statement brought him up short. Surprise crossed his perfect features before his ever-present courtroom composure came to his rescue.
“Jule. I know this may seem sudden, but darling, that’s my point. I have everything planned and the unease you’re experiencing is only because someone—I’d like to know whom—spoke out of turn. Once you have time to get used to the idea, you’ll see it makes perfect sense.”
Jule sent a quick glance around the room, locating the phone, her car keys, and an aluminum bat in the corner. Pio was beginning to creep her out and she wanted to be prepared if this didn’t go well.
“I’m not going to take time to get used to the idea because it’s never going to happen. I don’t care how much money you gave my father, we’ll pay it back. Consider it a loan. Whatever. But your money isn’t going to buy me.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “I’ve never heard you talk so disrespectfully. It doesn’t become you.”
Jule almost growled in anger. “Don’t talk to me about respect. You’ve been preying on my father for years, without the slightest hint of remorse over his situation. And now you think you have him over the barrel. Well, I’ve got news for you Pio, the only thing you’ve done is expose yourself.”
She didn’t think she’d ever spoken so harshly to the man in her life.
“You poor girl. Who’s been filling your head with lies? Montgomery?” He edged ever closer, his body rigid, the tension and threat clear in the tight lines of his face and the hard set of his eyes. “That bastard wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him on the ass.”
“What are you talking about? What does Rom Montgomery have to do with this?”
“Montgomery is history. He didn’t think anyone would ever find out, but I did.”
“Find out what?”
Pio shook his head and took another step closer. Jule backed up until her legs touched the bed.
“This doesn’t help us. Talking about Montgomery as if he still matters. I’m willing to forgive everything as long as you promise fidelity to me from here on out.”
Okay. Uncle Pio was crazy Pio. He now assumed Jule and Rom had been sleeping together. “I think we better talk about this later, Pio. Perhaps when my family is around. I would feel more comfortable with them beside me.” She laughed as if to say, “aren’t I silly?” but it sounded weak even to her.
“No. I need to have your word on this now, Jule. I can’t sleep another night without knowing you’ve left Montgomery for good.”
“Jesus. It’s none of your business who I have sex with.”
She didn’t see it coming. The slap rang her ears and made her eyes cross. When she could focus on Pio again, he seemed serene, as if he hadn’t just sent her to her knees.
“Sweetheart. Let’s not talk that way to each other. It’s hurtful.”
Jule regained her feet and made sure her thumbs rested on the outside of her closed fingers because didn’t want to break her bones when she pummeled his arrogant face.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” She inched to the side, away from him and towards the bat.
He actually looked upset. “It pains me more than it does you, Jule, believe me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
He lifted
a hand and Jule flinched.
Pio sighed.
“The reason I’m so distraught over Montgomery is I’m worried his indiscretions may come back to haunt you and your family.”
The topic had jumped around so much in the last five minutes, Jule’s head swam. That or the slap had her rattled. “What indiscretions?”
“He’s not who he says he is. In fact, nobody knows who he is. He’s certainly not Romney Montgomery, born illegitimately to a destitute factory worker in 1968. That baby died of SIDS before he celebrated his first birthday.”
“You’re lying. Trying to manipulate me.”
She inched along the edge of the bed, moving closer to the bat.
Pio shook his head, his lips pressed into a sad line. “You’re strong, smart, and resourceful. That’s one of the reasons I love you, by the way. Surely you can see if you look deep down, that I’m telling the truth?”
Funny. None of this assumed identity business ever came up during the discussion with Valerio.
“Do you have proof Rom’s not who he says he is?”
“Of course.”
She wanted to see it. “If he’s lied to me, it could impact my career and reputation.”
He nodded and smiled. “After we’re married, what’s mine is yours.”
This time she saw him coming.
She managed to dart out from under his arms, but he grabbed her wrist, wrenching it back and up. Jule staggered into him sideways as she turned and they fell back onto the bed. She groped for leverage, but he flipped her over, pinning her back to the bed as he slid between her legs.
“What the hell are you doing?” She screamed, trying to buck him. He had strength she wouldn’t have guessed at.
“I’ve tried to make this as plain as possible, dear, without getting into the ugly details, but I see I underestimated your desire for independence.” He drug her hands above her head and balanced his weight to keep her immobile.
“This is my fault. I apologize.” Contrition shone heavy in his hazel eyes. “I should have told you sooner instead of allowing someone to interfere. I won’t let it happen again.”
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