Until his father said, “Hold on, boy.”
Roma blinked, his arm receding back an inch. The gray light streaming in from the filmy windows gave him an eerie appearance, or perhaps that was just him now, his mouth an angry slash, his jaw tight enough to resemble stone. “What—”
“I sent an invitation to meet,” Lord Montagov said. Then he switched from Russian to Chinese. “Sit, Roma.”
Slowly, Roma sat.
“Bàba,” Juliette hissed. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Sit, Juliette,” Lord Cai simply echoed. When Juliette didn’t move, he closed a hand over her elbow and gently guided her to the table, leaning close to his daughter and whispering, “The perimeter is secure. It is not an ambush.”
“If it were, it is not like they would declare it,” Juliette whispered back. She plopped ungraciously into a seat, resting only half her thigh so she could leap up at a moment’s notice.
“Yes, you mustn’t worry, Miss Cai,” Lord Montagov declared. “There are only so many times you can ambush someone before they come to expect it.”
Juliette felt her chest go cold. Lord Montagov, meanwhile, was smiling, and the sight itself would have been terrible enough, but it was rendered even more abhorrent because . . . it looked so much like Roma’s smile.
How dare he.
“You—”
Juliette lunged over the table, knife out, but Roma was quicker. His pistol pressed into her forehead, and Juliette froze, her breath escaping in a quick sound through her clenched teeth.
When Juliette dared meet Roma’s eyes, she found only loathing. It shouldn’t have hurt so badly when this was her fault. The image was only right, only fitting. Who else would he hold a gun to but his enemy? Who else should he defend save his own father?
It shouldn’t have hurt so badly, and yet it did.
I did this, Juliette thought numbly. You told me you would choose me above all else, and then I did this to us.
She had put him back on the side of his own father, who had caused Nurse’s death, who had threatened to kill him if Roma couldn’t kill her. It almost didn’t seem worth it. Almost, almost—but Juliette was making the exact same choice Roma had. At least he would be alive, whatever the consequences she had to swallow.
“Juliette,” Lord Cai warned again, though his command was soft. “Knife away, please.”
With her teeth gritted even harder, Juliette pushed the blade back into her sleeve. Roma, in courteous response, set the pistol down on the table within reaching distance.
“It is much nicer to be civil, is it not?” Lord Montagov said. “I have a proposition. And it involves you, Miss Cai.”
Juliette narrowed her eyes. She didn’t prompt him to go ahead. She only waited.
“I would like you to cooperate with my son.”
Juliette immediately jerked against her seat, her head snapping in Roma’s direction. He did not react. He had known already—had agreed.
“I do beg your pardon,” Juliette managed. “Why would I do that?”
“Don’t you wish to find who is sending the threats?” Lord Montagov asked. “The two of you have the foreign language skills to socialize into the French Concession. Sending a gangster in alone is asking for trouble, but pairing enemies together . . . oh, the foreigners would not know what to do.”
What game is he playing at? Juliette remained quiet. Something was afoot here, and she didn’t like it.
“It is a good idea, Juliette,” Lord Cai said, finally speaking up. His voice was even, almost bored. “If both gangs are receiving threats, then nothing will scare the blackmailer more than us teaming up, however momentarily. Both Scarlet Gang and White Flowers walk out of this with a third enemy defeated.”
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.