Page 39 of The Temptation

“I won’t be long. I’ll lock the door on my way out,” he tells me as he retreats a step, putting distance between us. It hurts, but I try not to take it personally this time. “Don’t answer the door to anyone, and call me if there’s an issue.”

“Can I come with you?”

He runs his hand down his face before saying, “I don’t think that is a good idea. My mother won’t be in a good mood, and I … umm don’t want to subject you to that.”

“My father put a gun to my head more times than I can count. I think I can handle whatever she has to dish out.”

I see a storm brewing in his eyes and a flicker of vulnerability that he rarely lets show.

His gaze falters just slightly, like he’s holding back the truth before he confesses, “I don’t want you to meet her, and not for the reasons you may think. I’m?—”

“Embarrassed,” I say, finishing his sentence.

“Fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back.

“I get it. I had a fucked-up parent too, you know.”

His eyes move back to me as he scans my face, searching for what, I don’t know. He met Papa, so he knows exactly what he was like.

“I don’t think bringing you along is a good idea, Lucia.”

“Please. I’ll sit in the back seat and won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m there. I promise. I just …”

“Just what?”

I don’t want you to face this alone.

“I’ll get scared here without you,” I lie.

He arches an accusing eyebrow. “Being alone doesn’t seem to bother you when I take Killer for a walk.”

“Because that’s during the day, and I know you’re close by. It’s the middle of the night?—”

“Okay,” he breathes, making it sound more like a sigh.

A smile tugs at my lips. “So, I can come?”

“On one condition,” he adds.

“My lips are sealed,” I say, running my thumb and forefinger across my clenched mouth, zipping it shut.

His eyes briefly skim down my body before rushingback to my face. “I was going to say as long as you put some pants on.”

I’m wearing an unzipped grey hoodie over my white singlet top, but when I glance down at the barely there underwear on my lower half, I wince.

“I’ll throw something on and be right out.”

My attention is glued to the side window as Romeo pulls up to the curb in front of the police station. The dark tint on his black Range Rover obscures me from the view of the outside world, wrapping around me like a shield.

A short, dark-haired woman paces outside. There’s a slight limp in her step as she shifts her weight anxiously from foot to foot, rubbing her hands down her bare arms with each pass. She’s not dressed for this weather—just a thin shirt, no jacket—and she’s probably freezing her arse off out there.

I’ve been curious to know what Romeo’s mother looks like ever since he first mentioned her, but she’s nothing like I imagined. She’s small, delicate, and pretty, with a fragile appearance that doesn’t align with the picture I had in my mind.

From this distance, she looks younger than I expected, which only makes it harder to reconcile her with the reality of her addiction. It’s unsettling. Part of me feels a pull of sympathy towards her, but I know I need to remain guarded nevertheless.

My gaze shifts to Romeo, and I catch him watching her from the driver’s seat. The conflict etched across his face tugs at something deep inside me. He looks hesitant, heartbroken, and maybe even a little afraid.

I want to reach out, rest a hand on his shoulder, and lethim know I’m here for him. Make him see he doesn’t have to face this alone anymore, but I don’t. He wouldn’t want my pity, and I promised that if he let me come along, he wouldn’t even notice I was here. So, I stay quiet, a silent presence, offering what support I can from the background.