My heart broke with every heartbeat, listening to Romeo crumbling in confession. I couldn’t speak. I felt helpless to do anything but watch him unload years of crushing burden off his chest.
“One of my daddy’s many paid whores turned up on their doorstep, pregnant with a child she sure didn’t want but was willin’ to hand over at its birth to his biological father… for a good price.”
My heart plummeted.
“Yeah, Mol. It was me. My father got a private paternity test and I was his, the f**kin’ heir to his fortune. The whore had one stipulation, though. They had to keep the name she’d given me. She wanted control, to play some sick twisted game with her most frequent customer, probably pissed that she would never be more than a f**k to him. My name was a lifelong reminder of where I came from, and my mother despised it, despised me on sight.”
“Romeo,” I surmised.
“Romeo.”
He scratched his fingers across his dark, stubbled chin. “So there you have it. I’m the illegitimate child of my father’s slut on the side, but they had to have me, didn’t they? The fact of the matter was my father wanted to keep his assets in the family. He was expected to have children, an heir. My arrival ensured that could still happen. They paid for the whore to have me in secret. Then my folks disappeared for a year, you know, off on some bullshit cruise, and they returned with a new baby—and of course, the great billionaire’s lies were believed.”
Seeming a lot calmer, Romeo rested against the back of the sofa, head drooping low. “My momma f**kin’ hates me. I’m a livin’, breathin’ reminder that my father was a cheat. But that’s not the only reason they’re like this. They expected a docile, obedient child, who, when they said jump, would ask how high. But not their letdown of a son, right? I ended up being freakishly good at sports and I had my own mind and own dreams—unacceptable for a Prince!
“How dare I? How dare I want something for myself, after they’d so selflessly taken me in? Taken me in and reminded me every minute of every f**kin’ day that I was the product of a paid f**k. Beat me until I couldn’t even hold a football, let alone throw one—if you’re injured, you can’t play, right? So my daddy made it a frequent thing, a father-son weekly tradition.”
“N-no one helped you? Figured it out?” I asked through my tight throat.He laughed darkly. “Who’s gonna take on a powerful billionaire and question why his kid flinches whenever someone touches him?”
I sniffed and tried to soothe the acrid burning in my lungs. Romeo’s entire tough-guy persona was disintegrating before my very eyes.
“Then to make it worse, their failure of a child is expected to enter the draft for NFL, twice, and was forced to say no, to sacrifice his dreams just in case people found out he’s not really Kathryn Prince’s biological pride and joy. The mass of skeletons must be locked up real tight!”
Romeo stood before me, arms wide and humiliation evident in his stance. “So there you go, Mol. That’s why my parents hate me and why my bein’ with you has just added to their already mountain-high disappointment of their beloved f**kin’ son.”
I stepped forward cautiously, righting his collar with my trembling hands. “That’s why everyone calls you Rome, not Romeo… why you hate it so much. It reminds you of your past.”
He watched my every action with timid eyes. “Yeah, my birth momma said if they didn’t keep Romeo, she’d go to the media, expose the story, and they couldn’t have that, so they agreed… reluctantly. Had her sign some contract to keep quiet.” He laughed without humour. “What the hell kinda name is Romeo for the prized son of the wealthiest family in Alabama? My folks always called me Rome in public, but in private, I was Romeo. They used it as a taunt and curse. Romeo the whore’s son, Romeo the non-returnable bad gift—and they never, ever let me forget it.”
I pressed kiss after tender kiss to his lower throat. “Where did she go, your birth mother?”
“Probably back to whatever hole she crawled out of.”
“Romeo, I—”
I watched his face contort as he pushed me back out of his arms. “You’re gonna leave me, aren’t you? I knew I’d lose you. I just knew it. Who’s gonna put up with my parents’ shit? I’m not worth everythin’ they’ll put you through if we stay together, am I?” The grief was heavy on his features and he slumped on the old brown sofa that was placed in front of a grimy unlit fire. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and his wide shoulders shook from the force of the heavy sobs. I’d never seen him cry.