Page 22 of Hate On

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Page 22 of Hate On

The limo door opened and Roman shifted away from her. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and she peered past him to catch sight of a bank of cameras. The New York elite had come out for this event and as always, the media had followed. Preparing to be blinded, she slid from the limo after Roman, accepting his offered hand.

There was a fraction of a pause. If one wasn’t used to such events, they might not have noticed it, but both Roman and Julianna had been attending such events ever since they were old enough to do so and in that brief hesitation, they caught the faint surprise coming from reporters who were well versed in the rivalry between the two dynasty families.

Julianna caught movement from the corner of her eye and put heronsmile firmly into place just as the first camera flashed.

Questions were shouted but neither of them answered. Each of them offered a wave and Roman stepped away for a brief moment as people shouted at Julianna to get a shot of her dress. She turned around to display the deep vee that ran between the twisted swathes of material that formed the shoulder straps. The dress was Grecian in style and flowed around her in layers. She wore a hammered collar of gold, one of the family’s designer pieces, around her neck, with a matching armband on her left forearm and a bracelet on the right.

After a few more pictures, she reached for Roman and he was there as if they’d done this a thousand times.

They were well-matched, something she’d noticed more than once.

Briefly, she wondered what it would be like if they were free to pursue a relationship—a real one.

“You’ve stolen the show,” Roman murmured into her ear as they made their way inside.

“Hardly.” She was well aware that the show, as it were, hadn’t even started.

* * *

She’d been right.

Heads turned the moment they entered together and even though they’d been there nearly a half hour, they were still getting the eye.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten this much attention since I fell on my butt during a ballet recital in sixth grade,” she said ruefully as they found a table off in a corner. A few couples still glanced their way, but since they were standing still, not many stared. It was a little obvious when they were no longer mingling.

“I can’t imagine you falling on your butt. You’re so graceful,” Roman said.

“You’d be surprised. My gawky stage was legendary.” She sighed theatrically as she tipped her head back to stare at him.

“I’m not believing it.” He shook his head, a playful smile still in place.

“Maybe when we dance, I’ll step on your foot to give you an idea.”

“I won’t mind at all.” He brushed a strand of her hair back, his hand lingering longer than necessary.

Long enough to make her heart race.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked as he finally lowered his hand.

“I’d love one. I’ll take a Cosmo.”

As he left, she watched him until he was swallowed up by the crowd.

“Hello, sister of mine.”

At that familiar voice, she turned her head and smiled up into her brother’s face. “Hey!”

She hugged him, then settled back on her feet to study him. To his credit, Joseph Castle looked sober. At least so far. Unable to stop herself, she glanced at the glass he held.

The liquid in it was clear, but that didn’t tell her much. For all she knew, he was tossing back straight vodka.

There were only a few things that Joseph took seriously in life and social functions such as this wasn’t one of them. Parties were. But this wasn’t his idea of a party. Women were another thing he took seriously—allsorts of women. And he did like his drugs and booze.

Still, he was sober, or close enough at the moment, so she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

She was gratified that she didn’t smell any booze on his breath and when she pulled back, she gave him an easier smile. “How are you? I haven’t seen you for a few weeks,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it. She adored her older brother and hated what he was doing to himself.

“I’ve been around.” His gaze strayed past her, a sardonic grin curling his lips. “I’ve got to say, you could have knocked me over with a feather when you came in here with a Montrose, Julianna. Are you trying to give our parents a heart attack?”




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