Juliet

It took two cups of coffee, an extra-long, hot shower, and an ungodly amount of concealer for me to look like the usual Juliet this morning.

Put together. Confident. Relaxed.

I don't feel like myself. Professor Blake drones on about corporate responsibility while I'm still trying to make sense of last night's events. I don't know what rattles me more—the fact that Romeo Carrington has been taking part in illegal fights, or that he saved me from dying in the stampede.

Grandpa never talks about what spawned the bitter rivalry between our families, but whatever Romeo's family did decades ago still affects him. He taught me that business and emotions aren't a good mix, but his reaction is visceral whenever someone brings up the Carringtons.

That's why he can never know Romeo Carrington carried me out of a seedy warehouse and had me pressed against the wall in the dark alley.

My skin tingles at the memory of his strong arms, solid chest, and masculine scent I couldn't get enough of. I hate myself for noticing how gorgeous he looked, and I can only hope he doesn't realize he's been on my mind when I see him in Finance and pay him back.

I can't stand the thought of owing him anything.

Everyone around me rises to their feet. Chatter fills the lecture hall, and I shove my laptop in its bag before making my way out of the room. The hallway is teeming with students hurrying to their next class. I skirt a group of girls in the middle of it when a familiar voice rises over dozens of others.

"Juliet!"

I can't help but smile. Ezra struts toward me with his arms wide open and a grin that mirrors mine on his breathtaking face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming today?" I ask, stepping into his hug.

He squeezes me, chuckling. "I tried to. Your phone's off."

Right. I make a mental note to get a new cell in the afternoon and inch away so I can take a better look at one of my best friends. "You look great. How was Paris?"

"Amazing. Rainy. Coffee?"

"I've got one more class, and so do you." I'd rather chat with Ezra over coffee and sandwiches than struggle to keep my eyes open in Finance, but I need to see Romeo—something my friend can't know.

"I really can't skip, but we can chat on our way to the Science Building," I say. "There's still time before class."

He slings an arm over my shoulders as we step outside. It's surprisingly warm for November, and the fresh air instantly improves my mood.

"So," Ezra says as we cross the sun-soaked quad. "What's up with your phone? I've been trying to reach you since last night."

I wrap my arms around my middle. "Stolen. I went to an illegal fight with Nova and Cass. There was a stampede, and someone took advantage of the panic to steal my purse."

My purse, my wallet, and Dotty—the stuffed ladybug my grandma gave me when I was ten. Grandma Eveline passed two years ago, and I've been carrying my tiny stuffed lucky charm with me since.

Sadness covers me like a blanket. There's no way to get my things back, because setting foot in the warehouse again is too risky. What would I do, anyway? Ask one of those shady guys if they saw a Hermès purse that costs twenty grand?

That would probably be less ridiculous than asking them if they saw a ladybug called Dotty, but still.

Ezra's blue eyes widen. "Whoa. Juliet, honey, I don't know you."

Pushing the gloomy thoughts aside and determined to spend as much time outdoors as I can, I slow my pace as we near a tree-lined alley behind the dining hall.

"I don't know myself, either. The girls freaked out so much I'm lucky they didn't call the police when they couldn't find me. Note to self—learn people's phone numbers by heart."

A beat of silence passes—enough for me to take another few steps and realize I'd said too much.

Ezra cocks his head to the side. "Weren't you together?"

Heat crawls up my neck and stops at my cheeks, setting them ablaze. I'm not a good liar; never have been, and Ezra has been my friend long enough to know when I'm not telling the truth.

I can't be honest with him this time, though, because the secret I'm keeping isn't mine.

"We were," I say. "I just lost them in the crowd. I managed to leave the warehouse through the back door, and then asked someone for help."

His steps falter, and he arches his brow. "Who?"

I can't tell whether he believes me, but it's not like I have a choice. "Just a random guy."

"I'm glad you're okay." Ezra's concerned gaze slides over me. "You could've been hurt."

I glance at my feet to hide my flaming face. "It wasn't so bad. I liked the fights. You would've liked those guys, too."

Ezra's face twists into a grimace. "I'm allergic to men right now, but you've gone too long without one. Life has more to it than work, honey. I'm not encouraging you to jump into a relationship, but why not have some harmless fun?"

Harmless? I have my doubts.

"I'm not sure I want to." I sigh. "I hoped to have fun last night and look at what happened. I could've died in there if..."

Crap. I really should stop talking.

Ezra smirks. "If? Why am I getting the impression that you're purposefully leaving out the juiciest bits?"

"I can show you my scraped knee," I offer. "And the bruises from falling to the filthy concrete. Would that be juicy enough?"

His deep laughter echoes in the alley, and he flashes me another disarming grin. "Show me if you want. I might have something to show you as well. How about...a new gallery in Manhattan? All mine."

"Oh my God!" I halt, pressing my palms to my mouth. "Congratulations! I'm so happy your parents finally caved. What did you do to convince them?"

"Honey, ask me what I didn't do. I love them. They're amazing, and I'm blessed. But they don't understand art—they only understand numbers. I made a business plan, and Mom thought it was solid, but I was terrified she'd tell me it wouldn't be a good investment."

"You'd still paint. That's what really matters, right?"

Ezra loosens his scarf around his neck and undoes a few buttons on his coat, slowing his steps. "Right. But I want to exhibit other artists' works. Find fresh talent. This world is too cold and cynical, and I want to change it one painting at a time. Talking about positive changes, when are you going to tell your grandfather about your project? If I did it, so can you."

I'm not a coward, but I wasn't ready before. Now that I am, only one thing—or, rather, person—can spoil everything.

Romeo Carrington.

Grandpa cares about appearances way too much; he won't let me make changes in the company if he learns that I was at the fight. I need Romeo to keep quiet, so the sooner I see him in class and pay him, the better.

A surprisingly warm gust of wind ruffles my hair as we near the end of the alley. As I push a few strands behind my ears, Ezra wraps his hand around my bicep, halting me in my tracks. "Hoo boy, look who's there."

I follow his line of vision, and my eyes land on Romeo.

He's chatting with Addison not far from the Science Building. Perhaps chatting isn't an accurate description—he gestures with his hands, telling her something she must not like, judging by the defiant lift of her chin.

My stomach churns uncomfortably.

I knew he had a girlfriend—there's not a single person who doesn't know. Romeo and Addison are the it couple. They've been in the spotlight since they started dating a little over a year ago.

I have nothing against Addison Ashby. She's beautiful with her long, auburn hair and bright blue eyes, and although we've never exchanged more than a greeting, somehow, I don't think she'd be mean if we had a proper chat.

But she's arguing with her boyfriend, whose strong body covered mine in the dark alley last night. Something about that felt inappropriately intimate, although—objectively—he just shielded me from the police.

I must've imagined his dilated pupils, ragged breaths, and quickened heartbeat as our bodies touched.

Damn it. I really need to blow off some steam. Preferably, with a guy who isn't taken. And not being hated by my family would be an obvious bonus.

"Looks like a lovers' quarrel," Ezra mutters next to me. "What should we do?"

We should go. Even though we're too far to hear them, we're still close enough for them to see us if either of them notices us staring.

But for some reason, my legs don't obey my brain's command to start walking. I stay rooted to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away.

"I wonder what happened," he says. "Addison must be telling him off for yesterday. She was spotted at a charity gala alone, while lover boy was MIA."

"Oh my God," I whisper, glancing at him. "How do you even know that?"

"It's called the internet, hon." Ezra hugs my shoulders. "And if I'm honest with you, this whole relationship gives me fake dating vibes."

I bite my bottom lip to stifle a giggle. "That's only in fiction."

"Fiction is an enhanced description of real life. Besides, those two have as much chemistry as me and my grandma."

Romeo and I have chemistry, though.

And I hate it.

I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat. A gray cloud appears out of nowhere and covers the sun, and I'm quickly reminded it's a usual chilly November day in New York as a shiver runs through my body.

"We can't be those people, Ezra."

"What people?"

"The ones that make assumptions based on a single piece of evidence they misinterpret. We don't know anything about them. They might be madly in love, struggling with so many eyes set on them all the time. Nathan left me because of that, remember?"

Ezra groans, pressing me to his side. "Nathan had as much personality as low-fat ice cream. You were too much for him. He couldn't handle you, honey. He wanted a pretty accessory to show off and boost his ego, not a partner."

Before I can reply, footsteps thud against the pavement, and my stunned eyes register Romeo walking toward us.

I fold my arms over my chest as he stops by my side.

"Hi," he says. "Can we have a word?"

"I'll wait for you by the entrance, honey." Ezra acknowledges Romeo with a nod and eyes him curiously before leaving us alone.

"I'm glad you're here," I say, reaching into my purse. As I pull out my wallet, Romeo rolls his eyes.

"I already told you I don't want your money. I just need you to keep your mouth shut."

Annoyance flares within me. Who gave him the right to use that bossy tone with me?

"And I said I'd rather not owe you anything." I thrust a few bills into his hand. "There. Now we're even."

"A Milton paying a Carrington." Romeo smirks. "This moment will go down in history."

"It would," I say with the fakest smile I can muster. "If someone documented it. But nobody's filming, right? It's just another case of a Carrington accusing a Milton with no proof to back it up."

"Juliet, Juliet," Romeo chastises. "I have proof of something way better. How about some pictures of you at the warehouse yesterday?"

My heartbeat slows. That's impossible. He must be bluffing. Although, in theory, he could've taken photos without me noticing.

I should've known paying him wouldn't solve a thing. Like a true Carrington, he won't miss a chance to complicate my life even though he gains nothing. To him, it's all about power.

I tip my chin up. "Really? Show me."

"Can't. My battery's dead." He holds his phone up with its black screen facing me. "Give me your number, and I'll forward you the pictures later if you want to see them."

Damn it. I need to know if he's telling the truth, but there's no way in hell I'll give him my number. I don't take orders from guys with inflated egos. Or anyone.

"Speechless, Juliet?" Romeo taunts. "If Grandpa finds out, it won't be pretty."

"I won't give you my number," I say.

Romeo shrugs. "Your loss."

"Or yours."

He chuckles. "Mine? How?"

Two can play this game.

"I could say my friends saw you there. True; it won't do as much damage unless I tell the right people. Tabloids don't need proof. After you made the headlines a few days ago, they'll be happy with another piece of juicy gossip. If Grandpa finds out, it won't be pretty. Right, Romeo?"

His jaw works, and he glances away as if my threat made a dent in his composure. Then his dark eyes find mine. "You wouldn't dare."

I revel in my small victory for a heartbeat, then pat Romeo's arm. "Try me. See you tomorrow. Bow Bridge at nine p.m. Make sure your battery isn't dead."

After I see the pictures, I'll know how much trouble I'm really in, and then we'll hopefully put this absurd situation to rest. If he keeps being stubborn, we might need to make another deal. I'd rather avoid that, but that's a problem for another day.

A lazy grin appears on Romeo's face. As he leans it, the fresh smell of his cologne wafts into my nostrils, and his warm breath fans over the shell of my ear, raising goosebumps on my skin.

"Is it a date, Juliet?"