Roma And Juliette Quotes

To have and to hold, where even death cannot part us,’ Juliette whispered. ‘In this life and the next,’ Roma returned, ‘for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours.

These violent delights have violent ends, you have always known this.

I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.

You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hat you and then you give me a reason to love you. Is this a lie or the truth? Is the a ploy or your heart reaching for me?

They speak of Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai as the ones who dared to dream. And for that, in a city consumed by nightmares, they were cut down without mercy.

Together or not at all, doragaya

Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

I said I wanted you dead," Roma confirmed. "I never said I didn't love you

I hate you, what he really meant was I love you. I l still love you so much that I hate you for it

Your life," he seethed. "Is not a game of luck". "Since when," Juliette spat, "did you care about my life?' "I don't." He was trembling with fury. "I hate you". And when Juliette didn't recoil, Roma kissed her.

Don't miss," Roma said. "I never do," Juliette replied

moya doragaya, I love you, I love you

If the human soul has an afterlife, has a will, then his would be here for rest, and Alisa has no doubt that Juliette's would follow.

You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hate you and then you give me a reason to love you. Is this a lie or the truth? Is the a ploy or your heart reaching for me?

I made a vow to you, Roma.’ She took a step forward. No one stopped her. ‘Where you go, I go. I will not bear a day parted. I will take a dagger to my own heart if I must.

My darling, darling Juliette

You are a liar, Juliette Cai," he said. "You lied to me until I wanted you dead

Keep fighting for love.

How are you this bad?" Juliette asked in disbelief. "I thought you were Russian." "I am Russian, not an alcoholic," Roma muttered.

Juliette embraced danger with open arms. It seemed that Roma couldn’t do so even when his whole world was at risk, even while Alisa was strapped down by her arms and legs.

Why do you pause?” Juliette mimicked bitterly. Softly, she set him down, brushing his mussed hair out of his face. “Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

What are you afraid of?' Roma Montagov asked. Juliette's lips parted. She exhaled a short, abrupt breath. 'The consequences,' she whispered, "of love in a city ruled by hate.

Hello, stranger

Science could tell him that the ground was below his feet and the sky was above his head and the early light of day was upon his back. Roma wouldn't listen. To him, Juliette was the sun.

Roma Montagov kicks a chair. “God—” “—dammit,” Juliette Cai finishes with a whisper, far across the city.

War rages on, and the city tells the tale of Roma and Juliette like some folk song passed between rickshaw runners on their breaks. They speak of Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai as the ones who had dared to dream. And for that, in a city consumed by nightmares, they were cut down without mercy.

A long time ago, Roma had told Juliette that her anger was like a cold diamond. It was something she could swallow smoothly, something to be placed upon other people, gliding along their skin in glitter and glamour before they realized far too late that the diamond had sliced them into pieces. He had admired her for it. Mostly because his own anger was the precise opposite—an uncontrollable wave of fire that knew no subtlety.

but here, with his pulse thudding through his chest and beating an even rhythm onto hers, he was just a boy, just a bloody, beating heart that could be cut out at any moment by a blade sharp enough

It was only that every time she looked at Roma, she didn’t want to stop looking; she wanted to sit down beside him and bid him never to leave her, to listen to him talk forever and ever and ever.

The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn't stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.

Once, a long time ago, at the back of a library while a storm raged on outside, Juliette had asked Roma, “Do you ever imagine what life would be like if you had a different last name?” “All the time. Don’t you?” Juliette had thought about it. “Only sometimes. Then I consider all that I would miss out on without it. What would I be if I weren’t a Cai?” Roma had lifted onto his elbow. “You could be a Montagov.” “Don’t be ridiculous.

I take you, Juliette Cai," Roma whispered in concentration, "to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until..." He looked up as he finished the knot. Paused. When he spoke again, he did not look away. "No, scratch that. To have and to hold, where even death cannot part us. In this life and the next, for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours. Those are my vows to you.

Juliette wouldn’t dare because no matter how big her talk was, she still couldn’t separate the hatred broiling in her stomach with the sudden lurch of adrenaline that came to life with his proximity. If her body refused to forget who Roma once was to her, how was she to make those same limbs rebel from their nature, make them destroy him? “Penny for your thoughts?

I mourned,” Roma said just as softly. “I mourned for months, years outside the gates of the cemetery. Yet I don’t regret choosing you. No matter how cruel you think yourself, your heart beats for your people. That’s why you shot him. That’s why you took the chance. Not because you are merciless. Because you have hope.” Juliette looked up. If Roma turned, even the slightest, they would be nose to nose. “I regret that I was ever put in the position to choose,” Roma continued. His words were faint, whispered into the world while the streets roared with sirens, the building beside them teemed with chaos, and policemen along every street corner screamed for order. But Juliette heard him perfectly. “I hate that the blood feud forced my hand, but I can’t—I did what I had to do and you may think me monstrous for it. The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn’t stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.

It’s Juliette Montagova.” She lifted her hand and waved her fingers, flashing her gold wedding ring while she continued onward and exited the living room. “I’m a married woman. Roma, come help me get the knives, would you?” In that moment, as Roma pushed off the wall and followed her obediently, he fell in love all over again.

No," Roma finally said. "Then we would not have met. Then I would have lived an ordinary life, pining for some great love I would never find, because ordinary things happen to ordinary people, and ordinary people settle for something that satisfies them, never knowing if there would have been greater happiness in another life." His voice was rough, but it was certain. "I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.

I will stare fear in the face," Juliette promised quietly. " I will dare to love you, Roma Montagov, and if this city cuts me down for it, then so be it.

Really?" Juliette demanded through the glass door. "You climbed my house? You couldn't have simply thrown a few pebbles?" Roma looked down into the gardens below, "You don't have any pebbles.

But don’t be mistaken, Juliette.” His eyes swiveled to her slowly. That once-familiar stare was now fathomless, and Juliette’s breath caught in her throat, stilling like a creature in the headlights. She was ready. She knew what he would say. But it still tore into her, it still stung as mightily as razor wire wrapped around her heart, both ends pulled until it could wrap no tighter. “When this is over, I will have my revenge. You will answer to me for what you did.

I am in love with you,” he declared. It was only for practice, yet his face turned red nonetheless. This was ridiculous. He was fifteen. He could be more suave than this. Roma didn’t know much, but he knew that he had fallen too hard and he had fallen too fast. If he didn’t speak now he might never have a chance, because this city was brutal to dazzling things walking its streets, and Juliette was the most dazzling of them all.

Power is never worth it! You keep making trades upon trades, and you get nothing in return. Roma is running from it. Juliette is running from it. What makes you think you can handle

Enough was enough. In this moment, Juliette decided she did not care. This was a war they had never asked to be a part of; this was a war that had dragged them in before they had the chance to leave. Roma and Juliette had been born into feuding families, into a feuding city, into a country already fractured beyond belief. She was washing her hands of it. She was not fighting for love. She was protecting her own, everyone else’s be damned.

Juliette would have accepted the burden of playing dead if it meant safety for those she loved most. She and Roma were the same that way. It was their greatest flaw and their greatest strength at once, and she doubted that would ever change.

I doubt you have a penny on you,” Juliette finally replied. Reluctantly, she took a step forward and raised her hand; Roma did the same. They didn’t need to speak to make the complementing gesture. They had always known how to predict what the other was about to do. “Indeed, but I have plenty of larger bills. Would you offer more thoughts for those

They let the silence run, because Juliette could hardly think when Roma was so close, and Roma didn’t seem too eager to loosen the anger in his eyes.

Roma was going to start bawling, right here and right now. He wasn’t built for so many feelings.

They speak of Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai as the ones who had dared to dream. And for that, in a city consumed by nightmares, they were cut down without mercy.

Why do you pause?" Juliette mimicked bitterly. Softly, she set him down, brushing his mussed hair out of his face. "Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

Juliette turned to him and smiled. “Archibald Welch, I believe?” she said sweetly. “Do you go by Archie?” Archibald threw his drink down. “No.” “Really?” Juliette kept trying. “Archiboo, then?” Roma rolled his eyes.

They came to a stop. Juliette cupped a hand to his face, right on the red flush that had risen. “I’m sorry,” Roma said breathlessly. “I interrupted your wish before.” “No, you didn’t,” Juliette replied. She gave a pleased sigh, then leaned in again. “You finished it perfectly.

Juliette had been betrayed, and here she was, still reeling from it four years later. Here she was, harboring this pulsating lump of hatred burning in her stomach that had only gotten hotter and hotter in the years she had been robbed of a confrontation, an explanation, and yet still she did not have the courage to sink her knife right into Roma’s chest, to get revenge in the only way she knew how. I am weak, she thought.

Don't miss, Roma said. I never do, Juliette replied.

Why do you pause?' Juliette mimicked bitterly. Softly, she set him down, brushing his hair out of his face. 'Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

A veces el odio no tiene memoria para alimentarse. Se ha vuelto tan intenso que no necesita seguirse alimentando, y mientras no nos opongamos a él, no nos molestará. No nos debilitará. ¿Comprendes lo que te digo?

¿puede uno querer a una mujer sin que se juegue en ello el corazón?

Odiamos a los que nos hacen daño. Pero no odiamos de forma irracional. Es una idea muy bonita, pero las flores blancas si quieren hacernos daño.

inseparable, they were, not unlike the moon and the stars.

I will stare fear in the face,' Juliette promised quietly. 'I will dare to love you Roma Montagov, and if the city cuts me down for it, then so be it.

For as long as hatred lurks in the waters, the story of Roma and Juliette starts anew.

Ta ma de, Juliette," he muttered. "Traitor," "Will you keep fighting, or will you crumble?" Roma's hands launched to his throat.

I doubt you have a penny on you,” Juliette finally replied. Reluctantly, she took a step forward and raised her hand; Roma did the same. They didn’t need to speak to make the complementing gesture. They had always known how to predict what the other was about to do. “Indeed, but I have plenty of larger bills. Would you offer more thoughts for those?

To have and to hold, where even death cannot part us,” Juliette whispered. The monsters howled into the night. Loomed closer. “In this life and the next,” Roma returned, “for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours.

Juliette remembered the white flower lying on the path of her house, the note written from Lord Montagov. It had been dripping with mockery. “Why not?” A hard laugh. Roma shook his head. “Must you ask? I loved you.

I don’t.” He was trembling with his fury. “I hate you.” And when Juliette didn’t recoil, Roma kissed her.

You know,” Juliette said, barely stopping her teeth from chattering, “you used to ask before you undressed me.” “Shut up.” Roma tugged the zipper down. Just before he peeled aside the dress, he yanked the blade out.

Juliette walked away before the other White Flowers could happen upon the alley, before Roma saw the tears rise to her eyes, utterly, utterly frustrated that this was what they had been reduced to.

I hope,” Kathleen said, unable to resist the temptation, “you understand that Juliette is doing you a great favor.” Roma immediately scoffed. “There are no favors in this city. Only calculation. You heard what she said to your sister, did you not?” Kathleen had. There is an incredible amount of difference between killing an enemy too soon and killing them when the time is right. And it seemed she was the only one who had heard the hitch in her cousin’s voice that indicated she was lying. How strange it was. Both that Roma Montagov seemed angered by Juliette’s intent to destroy him and that Kathleen could see Juliette didn’t intend to at all.

There was humor in this—it wasn’t lost on him, despite the utterly unhumorous situation. Once upon a time, before Roma met Juliette, before Roma rolled a marble at her feet and fell in love with her, he had been sent into Scarlet territory with another mission. He had been sent in for Rosalind. That was why his father had started to suspect him in the end. Rosalind Lang had become the talk of the town as the best dancer the Scarlet burlesque club had ever seen, and there had been plans for Roma to mingle into the Scarlet crowds, to get closer to Rosalind and obtain Scarlet information under the guise of a great, star-crossed love affair. Instead, Roma had heard rumors of Juliette Cai’s return to Shanghai and had switched gears while crossing onto Scarlet territory, wanting to see this terrible Scarlet heir for himself. He hadn’t stood a chance. The moment he saw Juliette Cai for the first time, saw that smile playing on her lips, standing there at the Bund, it was a done matter. That false star-crossed love affair pivoted and turned real. Roma would claim, in reporting back, he hadn’t had any luck with their plan, yet he kept slinking into Scarlet territory regardless. Of course his father caught on.

Roma,” Juliette whispered. She knew that he could hear her. Even if she mouthed every word, Roma could probably read it. “Don’t do it.” “I must,” he said. There was no other argument. It was as simple as that. The blood feud was fated to run deep. Even Roma, who had hated the idea of it, couldn’t resist its draw. It would pull him in, force him to kill.

No,” Roma finally said. “Then we would not have met. Then I would have lived an ordinary life, pining for some great love I would never find, because ordinary things happen to ordinary people, and ordinary people settle for something that satisfies them, never knowing if there would have been greater happiness in another life.” His voice was rough, but it was certain. “I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.

Enough was enough. In this moment, Juliette decided she did not care. This was a war they had never asked to be a part of; this was a war that had dragged them in before they had the chance to leave. Roma and Juliette had been born into feuding families, into a feuding city, into a country already fractured beyond belief. She was washing her hands of it. She was not fighting for love. She was protecting her own, everyone else’s be damned.

I thought you were dead,” Roma was saying to Juliette. “Don’t ever do that to me.” “The better question is,” Benedikt cut in, “why are you so fond of faking deaths?

In this life and the next,” Roma returned, “for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours.” Juliette squeezed his hand. In that action, she tried to communicate everything she couldn’t put into words, everything that didn’t have a spoken form other than I love you. I love you. I love you.

He was exhausted by this; he was exhausted by Dimitri’s accusations. Yes—Roma had wet his hands with blood at fifteen years old for Juliette. For what it mattered, he might as well have lit the fuse that tore through a whole household of Scarlets. All to save Juliette, all to protect her, though she had never asked for such protection. Once, he would have burned the damn city to the ground just to keep her unharmed. Of course it was hard for him to hurt her now. It went against every fiber of his being. Every cell, every nerve—they had grown into place with one mantra: protect her, protect her. Even after knowing she had become someone else, even after hearing all the terrible things she had done in New York… she was still Juliette. His Juliette. And now she was not.

I was running errands,” Juliette said as Roma put the watch away. Roma started off in the direction of the racecourse. “I didn’t ask.” Ouch. Juliette physically flinched, a throbbing hot sensation starting in her heart. But she could handle it. What was a small bout of meanness? At least he wasn’t trying to shoot her.

You embarrassed her so deeply that she’ll be looking over her shoulder for the next three years in fear,” Roma remarked inside. He inspected a passing tray of drinks. “It means little that I managed to embarrass her,” Juliette grumbled. “Every other Chinese person in Shanghai doesn’t have the same privilege.

Only then an iron grip came around her waist, hauling her two steps away. “Calm down,” Roma hissed, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel the heat of his lips, “before I throw you into the wall.” A chill swept down Juliette’s neck. In anger or attraction, she wasn’t quite sure. It seemed unnecessarily cruel that each time Roma Montagov decided to get so close, it was to make threats, especially when Juliette was hardly in the wrong here. Anger won out. It always did. “So do it,” she said through her teeth.

Roma dropped into his seat. He didn’t shed the gray coat over his suit. “What’s the next language coming?” “French,” Juliette replied immediately, a second before grainy Shanghainese blared over the loudspeaker. Her eyebrows lifted. “Huh. Interesting.” Roma leaned back, the smallest smile playing on his face. “Ye of little faith.

The sound of gunshots echoed through the locked compartment. Roma took a horrified step back, so aghast at the noise that he couldn’t find the energy to keep pushing at the door. In that moment, he didn’t care anymore. The city faded, the blood feud faded, all his anger and rage and retribution crumbled to dust. All he could think about was Juliette—dying, she was dying, and he wouldn’t allow it. Some removed part of him determined that it was his job to kill her; the part of him in the present simply couldn’t bear it—not here, not now. “Don’t,” he whispered, a tremor breaking his voice. “Don’t.

For a sign that Juliette wasn’t entirely lost to him, Roma would pick a fight. In a moment of weakness to glimpse the Roma she loved, Juliette would entertain it. It was a volatile game. She needed to stop. She couldn’t keep doing this. If she had to turn cold, then so be it.

Science could tell him that the ground was bellow his feet and the sky was above his head and the early light of day was upon his back. Roma wouldn't listen. To him, Juliette was the sun.

Princess of Shanghai, of course.” He withdrew his hand. “Nothing else would be worthy.

Now look at that.” Roma released one of her hands from his grip, only so his own was free to grasp her chin lightly. “I count this as a victory.

When Roma came out, however, it was immediately clear in the slouch of his head that he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. “Don’t look so smug,” he whispered while Juliette passed him. “That’s just my face,” she hissed back.

We used to be pretty good at that.” A pit formed in Juliette’s stomach. “What?” “Working together. Listening.” He had stopped wiping at his face. His hand merely hovered in the air, its task undetermined. “We used to be a team, Juliette.” Juliette strode forward and yanked the silk from Roma’s hands. She was almost insulted that he was so aggressively bad at wiping up a simple blood splatter; in one furious swipe, she had stained the white of her silk with a deep red and his face was beautiful once more. “None of it,” Juliette hissed, “was real.

Juliette lurched away suddenly, scrambling to stand. Only then did Roma react. Only then did he reach out and grab her wrist, whispering, “Juliette.” “What?” she hissed back. “What, Roma? Do you wish to explain what this is between us, when you made it achingly clear four years ago where your heart stands? Shall I hold you at gunpoint until you have no choice but to admit you are once again playing me—” “I am not.” Juliette reached into her dress, tore out the gun she had hidden in its folds. With the hand she had free, she pulled the safety and pressed the barrel to the underside of his jaw—to the soft part where her mouth had been merely minutes before—and all Roma did was lift his chin so the gun would sink in further, until the muzzle was only another press of a kiss against his skin. “I cannot fathom it,” she breathed. “You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me reason to hate you and then you give me reason to love you. Is this a lie or the truth? Is this a ploy or your heart reaching for me?

Then why?” Juliette asked. Her words came out a rasp. “Why did you do it?” “It was a compromise.” Roma scrubbed at his face harshly. His eyes slid to the mouth of the alleyway, checking for threats, checking that they were uninterrupted, unwatched. “My father wanted me to kill you outright, and I refused.” Juliette remembered the white flower lying on the path of her house, the note written from Lord Montagov. It had been dripping with mockery. “Why not?” A hard laugh. Roma shook his head. “Must you ask? I loved you.

Juliette stopped midsentence, her eyebrows lifting so high they disappeared into her bangs. There was a blade held to her heart. Roma was holding a blade to her heart, his arm straight and long. A beat passed. Juliette waited to see what he would do. But Roma only shook his head. He suddenly felt so much like his old self again. Like the boy who had kissed her for the first time on the rooftop of a jazz club. Like the boy who didn’t believe in violence, who swore he would rule his half of the city one day with fairness and justice. “You’re not even afraid,” Roma breathed, his voice hitching, “and do you know why? Because you know I cannot push this knife in—you have always known, and even if you doubted my mercy upon returning, you discovered what the truth was pretty soon, didn’t you?” The tip of the blade was ice-cold even through her dress, almost soothing against the hot flush emanating from her body. “If you know that I will not be afraid,” Juliette asked, “then why hold your blade out?” “Because this—” Roma closed his eyes. Tears. Tears were falling down his face. “This is why my betrayal was so terrible. Because you believed me incapable of hurting you, and yet I did.

She wrapped her arms around Roma’s neck. Juliette heard his breath catch. A quick inhale, hardly perceptible had she not been so near. Perhaps he had not considered the fact that asking Juliette to act his cover would mean coming close to her. He certainly hadn’t expected her chin to automatically find its place in the crook where his shoulder met his neck, just as it always used to.

Just leave me here,” he said with a groan. “How are you this bad?” Juliette asked in disbelief. “I thought you were Russian.” “I am Russian, not an alcoholic,” Roma muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide, blinking at the ceiling with a stunned expression. “Why am I on the floor?

She came at him with her two hands, though she didn’t quite know what her intent was. Perhaps she was to throttle him, or pluck out his eyes, or go for the gun he had in his pocket, but Roma was faster even in his inebriated state. He caught her by the wrists and pushed, until she was on her back again and Roma was hovering over her, smug. “You were saying?” Roma asked. He didn’t move away once he had proved his point. He remained—his hands holding her wrists down over her head, his body hovering over hers, his eyes strange and dark and on fire. Something had changed in Roma’s expression. Juliette inhaled sharply, a small, quick breath. It might have gone unnoticed, if Roma hadn’t been so close. He noticed. He always noticed. “Why do you flinch?” Roma asked. His voice dropped to a conspiring, merciless whisper. “Do you fear me?” A hot fury swept into Juliette’s stilled veins. Such an insolent question reawakened all of her dulled senses, sweeping back the numbness of the alcohol. “I have never feared you.” Juliette reversed their bodies in one deft push. Bitter and resentful and aggrieved, she hooked her legs around his and twisted her hips until Roma was the one flat on his back and she loomed over him, kneeling on the sheets.

Perhaps,” Roma said, his words barely audible, “you do not fear me. But”—his hand was moving higher and higher, brushing her calf, her knee, her thigh. Juliette’s palm sank lower, until it was gripping the space underneath the smooth collar of his white shirt—“you have always feared weakness.” Juliette snapped her gaze up. Their eyes met, murky and drunk and alert and challenging all at once, the loosest they had ever been and sharper than ever, somehow—somehow. “And is this weakness?” she asked. She didn’t know who was breathing harder—her or Roma.

Juliette tore at the buttons down Roma’s front and she was pushing his shirt off, gripping at the scars and the old wounds that ran down his back. “Call a truce,” Juliette murmured against his lips. They needed to stop. She couldn’t stop. “You are torturing me.” “We are not at war,” Roma replied softly. “Why call a truce?” Juliette shook her head. She closed her eyes, let the sensation of his lips brushing against her jaw roll through her. “Aren’t we?” We are.

They both gave in at once. Roma’s kiss was just as she remembered. It filled her with so much adrenaline and exuberance that she could burst. It made her feel too ethereal for her own body, as if she could tear out of her own skin. The alcohol had tasted terrible in its glass, but its remnants were wholly sweet on Roma’s tongue. His teeth grazed her lower lip, and Juliette arched against him, her hands running across his shoulders, down the hard muscles along his sides, up his shirt, and against the burning warmth of his bare skin.

Really?” Juliette demanded through the glass door. “You climbed my house? You couldn’t have simply thrown a few pebbles?” Roma looked down into the gardens below. “You don’t have any pebbles.

Roma Montagov, this is unacceptable,” Juliette declared tightly. This was all too reminiscent, too wistful, too much. “Leave before you get shot.” Even with his face shrouded in the shadows, Roma managed to convey a frown that reached Juliette with maximum effect. He looked around, seeing no one in the gardens below him. “Who will shoot me?” “I’m going to shoot you,” Juliette snapped. “No, you’re not. Open the door, dorogaya.” Juliette jerked back, horrified not by the command, but by his term of endearment. With delay, Roma seemed to realize too what had slipped out, his eyes widening a fraction, but he didn’t fumble or take it back. He merely stared at her in wait, like he hadn’t just pulled out a relic from their past, one that they had smashed to pieces.

Juliette wouldn’t dare because no matter how big her talk was, she still couldn’t separate the hatred broiling in her stomach with the sudden lurch of adrenaline that came to life with his proximity. If her body refused to forget who Roma once was to her, how was she to make those same limbs rebel from their nature, make them destroy him?

Really, Juliette wondered how Roma avoided looking suspicious anywhere he went. He moved too well. Had someone told her four years ago that he was a god in human form, she would have believed them.

Once, a long time ago, at the back of a library while a storm raged on outside, Juliette had asked Roma, “Do you ever imagine what life would be like if you had a different last name?” “All the time. Don’t you?” Juliette had thought about it. “Only sometimes. Then I consider all that I would miss out on without it. What would I be if I weren’t a Cai?” Roma had lifted onto his elbow. “You could be a Montagov.” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Very well.” Roma had leaned in, close enough that she could see the twinkle in his dark eyes, close enough to see her own blushing face in the reflection of his gaze. “Or we could erase both names and leave this entire Cai–Montagov nonsense behind.

Answer me something first,” she responded with a whisper. Roma seemed to brace. He knew. He knew what she was going to ask. “Do you still love me?” Roma’s eyes shuttered closed. A long second passed. It seemed that Juliette had misspoken, had come across a crevasse and misjudged her leap, spiriting down, down an endless dark rip— “Do you not listen to me when I speak?” he answered shakily, his lip quirking up. “I love you. I have always loved you.” Juliette had thought her heart hollow, but now it was encased with gold. And it seemed certain then that her heart remained functional after all, because now it was bursting, bursting— “Roma Montagov,” she said fiercely. Roma seemed to startle at her tone. His eyes grew wide, bordering on concerned. “What?” “I’m going to kiss you now.