My Dark Romeo Read Online L.J. Shen

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 135536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
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At some point, I grew bored of drinking and staring at the walls and ventured out of his place. The bitter cold nipped at my face as I trudged through unplowed snow.

A ghost town of closed bars and restaurants met me at every turn. I roamed through the streets until frostbite formed on my cheeks, then returned to Zach’s place and caved, bending to my heart’s will.

Romeo Costa

How is she doing?

Franklin Townsend

Come and see for yourself, jerk.

Romeo Costa

I’m busy.

Franklin Townsend

So am I.

Don’t text me anymore.

Damn her.

A sleepless night followed the miserable day.

Once the sun skulked up the sky and I glanced at my watch, realizing Frankie and Natasha had already taken off to Georgia, I called Hettie.

“Are you there?” I paced the living room, wearing out the rug beneath my socks (the Sun household enforced a strict no-shoes policy). “Is she okay?”

“Good morning to you, too.” I heard the crunch of melted snow and ice crushing under her boots. Her labored breaths heaved across the line. “Actually, I’m stuck in New York because of this shitty-ass weather. Buses and trains are down. They’re only now salting the roads, so—”

“And you’re telling me now?” I roared, darting to my shoes and shoving them on, policy be damned. I laced them in record time, already slipping into my coat. “Vernon won’t be there until afternoon. Dallas is all by herself.”

The thought made my skin crawl.

She was sick. She might have loathed me, detested me, and wanted me nowhere near her—but she was still sick.

I zipped out of Zach’s door, advancing toward his Tesla. Surely, he wouldn’t mind.

And even more surely—I did not care.

“Well, to be honest, Romeo, you’re literally in town, so…” Hettie trailed off. She thought I’d stayed with my parents.

“Just get your ass there as soon as possible.”

I hung up and floored it so fast back to my house, I beat Waze by fifteen minutes.

Utter silence and an empty house greeted me when I arrived.

I cursed myself a thousand times over as I darted up the stairs to Shortbread’s room. I opened the door without knocking. Niceties were a luxury I couldn’t afford.

A duvet draped over her succulent curves. It was only when I got closer that I noticed her closed eyes. Blotchy red spots peppered her cheeks.

Her fever must have persisted.

Strewn across her nightstand were tissues, an assortment of liquid medicine, and bottled water.

The gravity of her illness slammed into me. Yet again, I found myself sick to my stomach with self-loathing.

How had I chosen my precious ego over my beautiful wife?

“Sweetheart.” I rushed to her bedside, setting a hand on her forehead. Oven-hot. “When was the last time you had a shower?”

“Leave me alone,” she croaked, her eyes still closed. “You seem to be good at that lately.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I kneeled next to her bed, taking her hand in mine. It felt lifeless between my fingers. I pressed my lips to it. “I’m drawing you a bath.”

“I don’t want you to do anything for me. Hettie will be here soon enough.”

She would rather wait for someone else to help her.

Dallas twisted her face to the other side, so I couldn’t see it. Each time I thought the knife in my heart couldn’t twist deeper, she proved me wrong.

I filed into her en suite, drawing her a bath. While I was at it, I swapped the water for her rose, since I knew how much she liked the ugly, bare thing then made her tea and peanut butter toast.

I settled on her mattress and fed her, bringing the bagel to her lips and uttering coaxes. “Just one more bite, sweetheart. You can do this. I know you can. I’ll buy you all the Peruvian food in the world if you finish this bread.”

She didn’t answer.

Certainly didn’t thank me.

Just swallowed small bites of the toast without tasting it.

I couldn’t blame her. Regardless of how she felt for me, I knew for a fact she would nurse me to health had I been in her position.

I was a coward. A childish fool for punishing her for not loving me.

Once the tub filled up, I stripped her clothes off and guided her inside, dragging a chair over from her vanity. Judging by her soft groans, I gathered I didn’t do a terrible job massaging shampoo into her scalp.

After rinsing, I lathered every inch of her body with a soft sponge and soap. Simply breathing seemed to pain her.

Great job, you bastard. How could you be so selfish?

At some point, the water turned cold.

I carried her to bed, set her on a sprawled towel, and patted her dry, hiking panties up her legs. Then I removed the towel and swung the comforter over her shoulders.

“You forgot the rest of my clothes.” She moaned, too weak to properly scold me.

“I didn’t forget. We’re going to break your fever.”


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