Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Past
The Manhattan penthouse was exactly as Juliet remembered it.
Stepping out of the private elevator, she was assaulted by memories. The vaulted ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park, the scent of cedarwood and Roman’s expensive cologne lingering in the air.
"This place is huge," Leo whispered, his little hand gripping Juliet’s tightly.
Mia just stared at Roman, her amber eyes calculating. She was a quiet child, far too observant for her age. She marched right up to the towering mafia boss, tilting her head back.
"Are you going to hurt my mama?" Mia demanded.
Roman dropped to one knee, ignoring the bleeding cut on his hand. He looked his daughter in the eye, treating her not as a child, but as an equal.
"No, Mia," Roman said solemnly. "My job is to protect her. And to protect you and your brother. No one will ever hurt you again."
Mia studied him for a long moment, then gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
Roman stood up and looked at Viktor, who was lingering by the elevator. "Lock down the building. No one enters or leaves without my direct authorization. Bring Silas to my study tomorrow morning. And Viktor?"
"Yes, Boss?"
"Don't tell Silas we found Juliet. Tell him it's a routine audit."
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Juliet watched him command the room, a shiver running down her spine. He was still the ruthless king she had fallen in love with, the man who commanded armies with a whisper. But if he was telling the truth about the phone call... then she had been running from a ghost for six years.
That night, Roman gave Juliet and the children the master suite. He slept on the couch in his study. Juliet lay awake in the massive, cold bed, listening to the city below, wondering if she had made the biggest mistake of her life by running, or by coming back.
