My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Just as I expected, he turned our home into a library. Every inch of wall space is covered in floor-to-ceiling shelves. The living room. The halls. The theater room. Even his study. My legs carry me from room to room at the speed of light. Though I hurry about it, my eyes don’t miss a thing. How he catalogued everything by genre, by spines, exactly the way I envisioned it. Horror and mystery in the study. Travel and cooking in the kitchen. Romance and erotica in the bedroom

was wrong. I’d never loved Morgan. What I’d felt toward her was ownership and entitlement. This. This was what love felt like. Like an organ of mine was in someone else’s hand, and I couldn’t retrieve it if I tried.

Thanks for the fuck, Shortbread?

I deserved to be slapped by every woman on Earth.