Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

She took her hand back and smoothed down her thick hair and the hem of her nightgown. “Look, I’m not what you go for. I don’t look like the others—polished, perfect, twenty-twenty vision. Please can we just wait a bit longer before the whole campus finds out? For my sake? It’s going to take some adjustment on my part to be with you. I just need some time.”

Awesome, I thought. The only girl I want to have on my arm for all the world to see, and she wants to hide away in secret.

Karma’s a bitch.

Pressing my head to hers, I said, “I want to show everyone I’m with you now. I’m not f**king hiding us, and I don’t give a shit what people think. As for my past, that’s not what I want with you. I want more. Don’t you get that by now? Christ!”

“Please. Just for a while. You’re Romeo Prince. Your… reputation scares me a little. Let’s just be us in private for a while, see how it goes without anyone else interfering.”

“Fuck, Mol!” I shouted a bit too loud. I was pissed. Yeah, my reputation was as a bit of a scary f**ker, but I was different with her, and I’d happily knock out anyone who tried to say otherwise. I would protect her.

“Please,” she begged again, and hell, I couldn’t resist those pleading eyes. No way was I giving her up. If we had to stay secret for now, I’d just have to friggin’ adjust.

Meeting Molly’s apprehensive gaze, I snapped out, “Fine! We’ll keep it quiet… I don’t f**kin’ like it, but I’ll do it for you, even if the thought of us being a secret makes me want to punch someone square in the face.”

A f**king secret.

Perfect.

Hell, this was not going to be fun…

13

My cell vibrated in my pocket, and fishing it out, my mood instantly soured. “Daddy, nice of you to call again,” I said sarcastically as I made my way through the college to the cafeteria for lunch, my muscles still aching from my weight session.

“It’s a good day, Rome! Martin Blair has approved the prenup. When you marry Shelly, Martin will finally retire and gift you thirty percent of his fifty percent share as a wedding present. He’s been wanting to leave for a while now, and you taking over the day-to-day running of the business beside me is exactly what we’ve wanted! Full Prince control.”

I’d never heard my daddy sound so friggin’ happy—me, though, I was just seething.

“What you’ve wanted,” I immediately stressed.

“What?” he snapped, his moment of elation soon forgotten.

Bracing for the aftermath, I said, “What you’ve wanted. I’ve told you once and I won’t keep repeating it: I’m. Not. Marrying. Shel!”

Silence reigned strong. Then, surprising me, he asked calmly, “What can I do to change your mind? What do you want? Whatever will make this happen, I’ll do for you, get for you.”

That shocked me to the point that I couldn’t move. Was the great Joseph Prince actually trying to negotiate?

Nipping the bridge of my nose, I replied, “Nothing. Nothing will change my mind. I’m sorry, Daddy, I know you think I’m failing in my duty as your son. But it’s my life and I won’t marry someone for the sake of your already stupidly rich business… I won’t marry just so you can get more money… I’m not cut out for that life. Football is what I’ll be doing in the future.”

A deep cough sounded on the other side of the line and he said, “You’re not going to change your mind about this? Am I getting this right?”

Blowing out a fortifying breath, I answered, “No. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Then have it your way.”

I froze, looking, unseeing, through the cafeteria windows. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ve made your choice. Now you’ll have to live with it. I won’t pander to you.”

“What does that f**kin’ mean?” I barked out again, trying to keep my voice low, as students around me began to stare in my direction.

I realized the phone had gone dead and, seeing the trash can before me, yelled out in frustration and sent the damn tin cylinder flying across the sidewalk with a huge kick. Shocked squeals from surrounding girls only infuriated me more, and, ripping into the cafeteria, ignoring the questioning looks from other people, I slumped down on my chair, staring, lost in thought, at the plastic tabletop.

What the hell did he mean? Jesus! He was forever f**king with my head. I’d rather take a beating than this damn mental torture. At least with a punch I knew where I stood.

Lifting my head, I searched the room, desperately needing to see Molly, and when I did, I found those golden eyes already staring right back at me. Her eyebrows were drawn together with worry. Feeling slightly calmer knowing she was close, I gave her a reassuring tilt of my chin.

Not being able to hold her in my arms was killing me. Not being able to pull her onto my lap, kiss her damn neck, and show the world she was mine was friggin’ killing me.

The next hour was going to be torture.

I was right. Lunch seemed to drag on. And when Caroline strutted over and made a pass at me, spouting some shit about dethroning queen bitch Shelly—I didn’t care, wasn’t remotely interested in her slutty offer, and I sent her away with a dismissive wave, and a polite, “Fuck off!”

Chris Porter watched me curiously from a few seats down, a smirk on his smarmy face.

“What the f**k you laughing at, Porter?” I snarled, my voice sounding lethal even to my ears.