His Juliet: An Age Gap Hurt Comfort Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 2)

The cold rain had driven most people off the dark Manhattan street. The streetlights cast shadows on the few of us who were out tonight—the elderly woman with a bright purple umbrella dragging a cart down the sidewalk, the squealing young girl clutching her mother’s hand as they ran inside a building, and the man who was following me with one intent: to kill me.

My phone buzzed and I brought it to my ear.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

I couldn’t help it—my lips twitched into a smile as Matteo, the Don of the Italian Mafia in New York City, went on a tirade about how I better not get myself fucking killed because he wanted the pleasure of killing me first.

“Aww, I’m touched,” I said as I slipped down a side street. His voice escalated, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Matteo was my boss, my best friend, my brother in all but blood. I’d been his second-in-command since the murder of his father, the former Don. I’d sacrificed everything to help win him his empire, and he’d never forgotten it.

“I told you this was too fucking risky,” he seethed through the phone.

I glanced over my shoulder, my muscles loosening when I didn’t see the Albanian silhouetted by the streetlight.

“Are you going to help me or just bitch at me?” My voice was hushed as I turned down another street. It was lined with shops showing their closed signs.

Matteo let out a long-suffering sigh. “Find a place to lie low. They’re somehow blocking Franco from getting access to the street cameras, so we’re blind.”noveldrama

I passed a small shop and stuttered to a stop. The sign on the door read closed, but there was a light on inside. I tried the handle and let out a breath when the door opened. I slipped inside, locked the door behind me, and closed the shades.

“I’m inside a store. I couldn’t see him behind me.” I murmured as I headed deeper inside. Lamps illuminated cramped stacks of books everywhere. Apparently, I’d found myself in a bookstore. I turned the lights off as I passed them, bathing the aisles in darkness.

“Stay there until we can get eyes on the area. I can’t believe you caught the attention of the fucking Butcher⁠—”

I came to an abrupt stop when I spotted the check-out counter. A woman stood behind it, frozen, a pen in one hand and a slice of pizza in another.

“Gotta go.” I hung up on Matteo, knowing it would piss him off, but I had more pressing matters to attend to in the form of this gorgeous beauty in front of me. Her hair fell in dark brown curls with pink highlights on the bottom half, matching the pink headband she was wearing. Her eyes were bright green, her cheeks pink and freckled, and her expression was one of growing horror.

Right.

Shit.

“Hi,” I said, voice chipper as I stuck my phone in my pocket. I flashed her my most charming smile, the one that made all women, and some men, practically fall at my feet, but she seemed unconvinced.

Her eyes flitted side to side. “We’re closed,” she finally said.

“Ah, yes, sorry about that. The door was open.” I frowned. “Which is really unsafe. You should lock that when you’re closed, especially if you’re in here alone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she quickly dropped her pen, grabbed her cell, and backed up until she hit a stack of books. The slice of pizza was still clutched in her hand.

“I can’t let you do that,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at her phone. Her fingers hovered over the screen as if she were trying to figure out how to call 911 without me knowing.

“What do you want?”

My gut twisted at the fear in her voice. I closed the space between us, leaned over the counter, and wrapped my hand around her wrist. “Drop the phone, beautiful.”

She hesitated for a moment before releasing the phone. I caught it and slipped it into my back pocket.

“There we go. Nothing to be alarmed about.” My thumb stroked the soft skin on her inner wrist before I realized what I was doing. I reluctantly let her go.

“I’m sure this isn’t how you expected to spend your evening, but I promise I won’t get in the way of your pizza and bookkeeping.”

She clenched her jaw and met my gaze fiercely. “I’m going to ask you to give me back my phone and leave. If you need a book, you can return during business hours.”

My lips twitched. Damn, she was cute.

“Unfortunately, I can’t quite leave.”

“Why?”

I paused, trying to decide what to tell her. “I’m in a bit of trouble and need to stay here until things blow over.”

A noise at the front door jolted me into action. I leapt over the counter, snagged the woman around the waist, and pulled us both to the ground, my gun already in hand. She struggled against me, her breaths growing more panicked.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay,” I murmured, pulling her tighter to my side. Fuck, she smelled good.

I held my breath and there it was—someone was definitely trying to open the door.

I pulled out my cell and handed it to the woman. “If he gets inside, I want you to hide wherever you can and call Matteo.” Her wide eyes met mine, glassy with fear. I gripped her jaw. “Nod if you understand. Hide and call Matteo.”

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

I released her chin and positioned myself in front of her.

We waited in tense silence, but as the minutes ticked by, there were no other noises. It seemed the Butcher had moved on.

I sat back with a sigh of relief. “Alright, that should be enough excitement for the evening.”

I turned back to look at my little bookstore owner. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and her chest was rising too rapidly.

“Shit. Are you having a panic attack?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a whimper. I recognized the signs from when Sienna, Matteo’s sister, was younger and had panic attacks.

“Okay, okay, it’s going to be fine.”

I gently pried the limp slice of pizza out of her grasp and ate it in three large bites before taking her hands in mine.

“Just breathe in and out,” I said around a mouth full of food.

Her brow furrowed. “You just ate my fucking pizza.”

“Language,” I scolded, my words muffled as I chewed. “Someone as sweet as you shouldn’t swear.”

Her pursed lips told me exactly how ridiculous I sounded.

“What the fuck is happening?” she asked, sounding steadier.

I choked on a laugh before finally swallowing the rest of the pizza. “Are you still having a panic attack?” I squeezed her hands, frowning at how cold they were.

“I’m okay.” She took another shuddering breath. “But I still don’t know what’s happening. Are you here to hurt me?”

Her voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, it crushed me.

“No, sweetheart. No one is going to hurt you. We just need to hang out here for a while.”

I reached behind me, grabbing the pizza box off the counter and handing her a slice of pepperoni. “Eat that. Do you have something to drink? Water or scotch?”

She took the pizza from me, still looking wary. “Umm, I think we’re fresh out of scotch.”

I grinned. “Good thing I’m not.” I reached into my jacket pocket and fished out a couple of travel-size liquor bottles I’d snagged from the hotel room I’d stayed in last night.

“I think I’m having some sort of break with reality,” she said. But she took the mini bottle of tequila.

“Eat your pizza first.”

She looked down at the slice clutched in her hand and took a bite. I grabbed myself another. I recognized the restaurant name—it was Family-owned, but I’d never been. It was damn good pizza.

“Since we’re going to be here for a while, we should play a drinking game,” I said.

“Assuming you’re not a hallucination, who are you? Who was trying to get in?”

My phone buzzed, and I realized it was sitting on the woman’s lap. “May I?”

She picked it up and hesitated for a moment, maybe considering if she could call for help, before handing it to me.

Matteo’s text flashed on the screen, letting me know they still didn’t have eyes on the area and for me to stay where I was. Fine by me. My eyes trailed up the woman’s body. She looked young—maybe in her early to mid-twenties, in contrast to my thirty-eight—and she was all thick curves, lush lips, and gorgeous hair.

I stretched my arms above my head before grabbing yet another slice. “Eat,” I said sternly. Once she took another bite, I continued. “I’ve caught the attention of the wrong person and need to wait things out until it’s safe.”

“You want to stay here? For how long?”

I shrugged. “You in a rush to get rid of me?”

“I need to go home.”

“Can’t let you do that. You’re stuck with me for a little bit. So, drinking game?”

She took another bite of pizza. “I’m definitely hallucinating. I’m going to close my eyes and when I open them, you’ll be gone.”

She scrunched her eyes shut, looking fucking adorable. I silently rolled to the side, so when she opened them, her jaw dropped in momentary confusion. Then she saw me and gave an exaggerated huff.

“Good news!” I said. “You’re not hallucinating. Now, before we play, we should probably introduce ourselves. What’s your name, gorgeous?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Juliet.”

I couldn’t stop my wide smile. No fucking way. “Juliet, I believe this night was written in the stars. I’m Romeo.”

She blinked and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m definitely losing it.”

“No, really, that’s my name.”

“Uh huh.” She shifted so her back was against a wall of books, her legs stretched out in front of her. They were just inches away from mine, and I had to hold myself back from brushing against them. “So tell me, Romeo, who did you get in trouble with?”

She said my name like she thought it was fake, but I still loved the sounds of it on her lips.

“Well, stellina, not everyone appreciates how funny and handsome I am.”

Her nose scrunched. “Someone is after you, potentially wanting to kill you judging by the gun you’re carrying, because you’re too funny and handsome? That’s the story you’re going with?”

“Your lack of faith in me is astounding.”

“Also, stellina?”

“Little star. Because we’re star-crossed lovers. That’s Romeo and Juliet, right?”

She rolled her eyes again and I loved it. There was something about her that felt fragile, like she could break at any moment, but these glimpses of her sass eased something in my chest.

“You’re a great lover of Shakespeare, then?” she asked.

“Nah. Too depressing for my taste. Now, what drinking game should we play, Juliet? Unless you’ve got beer pong set up in the back, we might need to stick with a classic like Truth or Dare. Or we could do strip poker.”

Her cheeks flushed, but the look she gave me was scathing.

“Truth or Dare it is,” I said, lifting my unopened mini bottle of scotch.