But you don’t understand, she wanted to say. Juliette stared at Lord Montagov, stared down the hard glint in his dark eyes. This was not merely a way to combine their forces. Lord Montagov knew exactly what past she and Roma had—this was a scheme to gather Scarlet information, to have Roma do what he refused five years ago: win her trust, act the spy. The moment they started working together, Juliette wouldn’t be able to shake him. Anything the Scarlets discovered, the White Flowers would have too.
Only Juliette couldn’t say any of this, could she? She was trapped, and Lord Montagov knew it. Cooperate, and there would be no questions asked. Refuse and rebel, and her father would ask why, and she would have to tell the truth: the first time, her romance with Roma caused an explosion at the Scarlet house; the second time, Tyler almost took all their lives.
“A fine idea indeed,” Juliette said dully.
Lord Montagov clapped his hands together, making one, thunderous sound. “What ease! If only the rest of our men were as friendly as we were.” He turned to Roma. “Have the two of you formally met? I imagine not.”
Roma and Juliette looked at each other. Roma’s jaw tightened even further. Juliette’s fists grew deathly white under the table. All the while, Lord Cai was unconcerned, the only one in the room whom this whole show was for.
“We have not,” Roma lied, his gaze steady. He stood. Extended his hand across the table. “Roman Nikolaevich Montagov. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Roman. She almost said it aloud like an echo, almost passed it through her lips simply out of the urge to commit it to memory.
There was a part of her that had always known that that was his true name, but the city had long forgotten it just like they had forgotten that hers was Cai Junli. The city only knew him as Roma. It was easier to pronounce in Chinese; it was what everyone who knew him called him.
She supposed she didn’t know him anymore—not this boy who stood with his arm outstretched, his fingers steady like they had never before pressed into her skin as gently as a kiss. Lovers turned to strangers, and it cut deep enough to bleed.
“The pleasure is mine.” Juliette stood and reached to shake. Their palms touched, and she did not flinch—she would not flinch. “May I invite you on a walk around the perimeter? There are some details I would like to work out.”
Lord Cai raised his eyebrows. “Juliette, perhaps not—”
“The perimeter is secure, isn’t it?” she interrupted.
He could hardly argue against that. So long as there wasn’t a chance of ambush, it wasn’t as if Juliette couldn’t handle the White Flower heir. Lord Cai gestured for her to go on.
“I will wait for you in the car.”
Juliette marched out of the private room, counting on Roma to follow her. She strolled through the corridors so briskly that wisps of her hair had come undone by the time she shoved out the back door and emerged into the alley, her shoes stepping into soggy sheets of newspaper. Deep inhale, deep exhale. Her breath clouded in front of her, fogging her vision with white when Roma emerged too and she turned to face him, meeting his glower.
“Walk,” Roma commanded, starting in the other direction of the alley.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Juliette muttered. Nevertheless, she marched after him and followed along, keeping pace beside Roma with a carefully placed distance between them. If the alleys here were any busier, she would not have suggested this—opting to forgo a private conversation rather than be seen having one—but the passageways were tight and dark, and they could circle around the restaurant for however long they needed without approaching any main road.
“So what is this supposed to be?” Juliette asked outright. Overhead, a rusty pipe dripped a bead of water onto her neck.
“My father sprang it on me as well,” Roma answered, sounding like he was speaking through shards of glass in his throat. “This whole thing was Dimitri’s idea. I’m supposed to win back your trust and siphon information.”
Juliette bit down on the inside of her cheeks. Her guess was right. It was an attempt to finish what they had started five years ago, only Lord Montagov didn’t know that Juliette had already finished it.
“Does he know about—”
“The hospital?” Roma interrupted. “No. It hasn’t gotten back to them. They know about the . . .” He paused. Swallowed hard. “The confrontation, but as far as your role in it goes . . . your cousin kept the information contained.”