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Their love will ignite a war in this Romeo And Juliet retelling. Read a sneak peek from Love Grudge by Chantal Fernando

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Their love will ignite a war in this Romeo And Juliet retelling. Read a sneak peek from Love Grudge by Chantal Fernando

Their love will ignite a war in this Romeo & Juliet retelling from gripping New York Times bestselling author Chantal Fernando.

Romeo

I was born to rule the Devils MC. Every decision, every move I made was to further that goal — until I met Julianna.

Falling in love with the granddaughter of the man who ripped our club apart was not in the cards, especially not now, when it’s finally time for me to take over as president.

Duty to the MC comes first, but that battle cry feels empty when it means giving up the woman I love.

Julianna

My greatest sin was being born a woman. I’ve proven my worthiness in spades, but my father still won’t let me lead the Angels MC on my own. I’m nothing but his pawn, to be sold off to the successor of his choice.

He wants me to fall in line, give up Romeo and keep the peace, but my loyalty comes with a price.

I’ll fight for what I want, even if it means going to war.


Fingers tapping on the steering wheel to the sound of Tupac, I wait for Rosalind to get into my car so she and I can have a chat.

This “chat” has been a long time coming—our on-again, off-again secret romance needs to come to an end. It was fun while it lasted, but now reality has come for me. When we met, it was supposed to be a one-time thing. But one time turned into two, two into three. And now I find myself here two months later in a quasi-relationship with a woman I can never really be with. But as much fun as I had with her, I knew it was just that and we were not meant to ride into the sunset together.

The timing couldn’t be better. I’m not sure what other stories you’ve been told about motorcycle clubs, or MCs as popular culture tends to refer to them, but my club operates a bit like a monarchy. My father is the president of the Devils MC and my grandfather was president before him. But unlike a monarchy, the president does not keep the role until their death, only until they turn fifty. So as per tradition in my family, with my father’s upcoming birthday, I am going to become president of the Devils MC.

Becoming president is a gig I’ve been born into, and something I’ve been getting ready for my entire life. But now that it’s here, I don’t feel like I thought I would. This moment has been hyped up for my entire life, and now it’s a little anticlimactic. All I’m about to inherit is a whole lot of responsibility.

And power.

Power is good, but it comes with a price. And Rosalind is the first casualty.

The lithe blonde with a killer body opens the car door and slides in, her rose scent hitting me before her brown eyes do. When she turns to me, her eyes are flat and a little red from crying.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly going on alert. “Are you okay?” I’m not a monster. Just because she isn’t the love of my life doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit.

“My grandfather died this morning,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. Her long blonde hair drapes her face like a curtain, some of the strands stuck to her cheek from the tears. I stare straight ahead, processing this information.

Mikey Callisto is dead. The OG biker from the Angels MC.

An MC that was formed due to their history with my family.

I forgot to mention that part.

The Devils are destined to hate the Angels. We are not to intermingle, not to have anything to do with one another. The history is quite simple—it was over a girl. My grandfather was in love with a woman called Libby Rose and he was going to marry her. Until she fell in love with my grandfather’s best friend, Mikey Callisto. In an effort to maintain peace, my grandfather’s father, then president of the Devils MC, allowed Mikey and Libby Rose to leave the MC and start a new one so long as their operations did not conflict with Devils MC business. In exchange, Mikey agreed to give the Devils MC twenty percent of all income for forty-five years, which coincidentally ends in a month. We’ve had a semblance of a truce ever since, but with the ending of the debt tax, I have no idea what I’ll be inheriting. I’m just waiting for something to happen.

Rosalind glances over at me, and I wince. I guess I haven’t completely left the Angels alone.

But the weird thing is, I’ve been told all my life that the Angels were the enemies. Except I’ve never seen it that way. They did their thing, we did ours. We didn’t commingle, we coexisted. But if you ask my grandma Cathy, speaking their name is sacrilege. So I’d be lying to say that I didn’t get a sick thrill knowing I was sleeping with the enemy. I know, I know, I’m a bastard.

I realize I haven’t offered Rosalind any comfort, too lost in my own thoughts about our history and how this is going to affect my MC. Because it will. Mikey was the one who really enforced this treaty. With him gone, who knows what will happen.

“When is the funeral?” I ask, knowing my grandfather Johnny will want to show his respect to his old best friend. I don’t think he ever recovered from the betrayal, and as much as he wanted to hate Mikey and Libby Rose, I know he really couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“On Sunday,” she replies with a sniffle. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

I pause. I may be a heartless bastard, but breaking up with her while she already has tears in her eyes probably isn’t the nicest thing to do.

“You’re dumping me, aren’t you?” she guesses, pursing her pink lips.

“You knew this wasn’t going to last,” I tell her, studying her profile.

Forbidden fruit always tastes better.

Fuck, I really am an asshole. She gets out of the car without another word and slams the door behind her, the rose scent leaving with her. I know I shouldn’t feel bad because she knew what this was, but there’s a tiny slither of guilt that hits me anyway.

I head back to the clubhouse to tell my grandpa about his best friend’s death.

***

You could hear a pin drop.

No one wants us at this funeral, yet just like I thought, Johnny had wanted to show his respect to a man he once loved like his brother. As we walk through the funeral home, all eyes are on us. I stand next to my father and grandfather; we’re all dressed in black. This is the first time the Callistos and Montannas have been in the same room together in years, and will likely be the last.

Rosalind is watching me with wide eyes from the front of the room, probably wondering with the rest of us how this is going to play out.

“We are here to simply show our respect to Mikey, and then we will leave,” Johnny announces to Paulie, Rosalind’s father and current president of the Angels MC. Paulie inherited the role when he married Mikey’s daughter, since none of Mikey and Libby Rose’s children were boys. Paulie nods stiffly, telling his men to stand down, and then turns back to the coffin where Mikey lies.

One by one we go up and bow our heads, and then wait at the back of the room.

Johnny goes last and lingers there for the longest. As I’m walking away from the viewing, I can see an older woman. I’m assuming it is Mikey’s widow, Libby Rose, since she’s sitting front and center. She’s dressed in all white. In fact all of the Angels MC is in white. I catch her eye, and she audibly gasps. I think I know why, because it’s not the first time I’ve had that reaction. I know how much I resemble my grandpa. I can feel her eyes follow me as I walk to the back.

Just then a blonde woman walks in, the door clicking behind her. We lock eyes and hold. She’s wearing a black suit, her small waist accented with a button in the middle, and her blue eyes are sad. As she keeps walking, she trips forward on her heels and I catch her, my arms automatically going around her.

We can’t seem to look away from each other. She’s beautiful, with plump, heart-shaped lips, almond eyes and a cute nose. She’s the opposite of me with my dark hair, eyes and tan complexion. She smells like cherry blossoms.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, removing her arm from my touch.

I stop and look around to see everyone staring at us.

Everyone.

Grandpa Johnny eyes us both, shaking his head as if seeing a ghost, before approaching.

“What is it?” I ask him, but his eyes are on the woman next to me.

“You look so much like her,” he says, staring in wonder.

The woman smiles, hiding her face. “I get told that all the time.”

“What is your name?” he asks.

“I’m Julianna. I’m Libby and Mikey’s granddaughter.” She stares between Grandpa Johnny and myself.

“You two are the spitting image of one another.” I’ve been told that my entire life.

And then it all hits me.

This woman looks just like Libby Rose when she was younger, the woman Grandpa Johnny loved. The woman who is sitting in the front row crying and looked at me with shock. The same Libby Rose who left Grandpa Johnny for the man lying in the casket right now.

I can’t let history repeat itself. I walk by Julianna and to the door, Grandpa Johnny following behind me.

But unable to help myself, I take one last look at her before I walk out of the funeral home.

Julianna and Romeo.

How fucking tragic.

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