Roman and Julienne's heart desire-Chapter 187: Azazel’s Dangerous Storytime

"Sis, are you listening?" Azazel asked, leaning forward as if the weight of his story required her full attention.

Julie nodded quickly, her soft bob of the head almost childlike.

For a brief second, her gaze flickered to Roman—who sat across from her, quiet and unreadable—before she turned back to Azazel.

"I’m talking about the past," Azazel continued, shoulders lifting with theatrical emphasis.

"Our beautiful grandma Lisa was a fan of this icy man, Roman Thompson. In fact, I think she loved him even more than she loved her own husband."

Julie blinked, surprised, her lips curving into a small, amused smile.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Roman stiffen just slightly, the faintest crease forming between his brows—but he said nothing.

"You know," Azazel went on, placing a hand dramatically over his chest, "there was a time when Roman—my handsome and disgustingly wealthy brother—was not as cold as he is right now. Or should I say, not cold at all."

His voice dripped with exaggeration, as if he were narrating some ancient legend instead of speaking about the man sitting right there.

Julie couldn’t help but smile wider.

Azazel always brought a strange liveliness to the table, his words painting vivid pictures whether the listener wanted them or not.

She leaned slightly closer. "So he wasn’t cold from the beginning?" she asked. Her voice was soft, curious. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

While Roman was never cold to her, she had seen the sharp edges in him—the frosted glances, the heavy silence that could freeze a room.

Even his own family wasn’t spared those moments of piercing emotionlessness.

Azazel gave her an overly serious nod, as if confirming a sacred truth.

He reached for a boiled egg, rolling it between his fingers before tossing it into his mouth.

The loud crunch as he bit into it echoed lightly across the dining room.

He chewed slowly, deliberately, dragging out the moment just to irritate Roman—Julie could tell.

Roman’s jaw flexed, that barely-there tic that appeared only when his younger brother was testing his patience.

Julie noticed it all and had to suppress a tiny laugh.

Azazel swallowed before continuing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand even though there was a napkin right beside him.

"Yes, of course. Little Roman was warm. Friendly. Sweet, even," Azazel said, grinning wickedly as Roman shot him a warning look.

"Believe it or not, sis, there was a time when this man used to smile at everyone. Even strangers. He wasn’t sending chills down people’s spines with just a stare."

Julie’s eyes brightened with curiosity. She tried to picture a younger Roman—less guarded, less intimidating, maybe even carefree.

The idea alone made her chest flutter with a strange warmth.

As Azazel continued preparing to dive deeper into the memory, Julie folded her hands on the table, leaning forward slightly.

She was ready to listen—to this story, to their history, and to whatever version of Roman existed before the man she knew now.

"He used to be cool and chill," Azazel added with unnecessary pride, as if revealing a great secret.

Julie raised a brow, her face shifting into a confused little frown that only encouraged him further.

"Ehm, ehm—"

Before he could dive deeper, Roman cleared his throat—loud and sharp.

The sound cut through the room like a blade, drawing every pair of eyes to him instantly.

His gaze locked on Azazel with a warning so clear it didn’t need words.

It was the look of an older brother who had tolerated enough foolishness for one lifetime.

But Azazel—clearly possessed by pure mischief today—only stretched his lips into a slow, wicked smile. If anything, Roman’s glare seemed to fuel him.

Julie turned just in time to see Roman’s expression shift from stern to dangerously irritated, and her smile broke free, soft and amused.

"What I mean is..." Azazel continued, raising his volume just a bit out of pettiness, "this Roman you’re seeing—who pretends to be all calm, mature, and collected—used to dance seductively and act silly most of the time."

Julie’s eyes shot wide open. The image alone was enough to scramble her thoughts for a moment.

Slowly, almost dramatically, she turned her head toward her husband.

Roman was staring at Azazel as if contemplating the fastest way to silence him permanently.

His expression darkened, shoulders stiffening, a storm brewing behind his eyes. Julie almost heard the silent "don’t you dare" vibrating from him.

"Really?" she breathed, stunned—and secretly delighted. Her gaze bounced between the two brothers, waiting for someone to deny it.

"Yes!" Azazel slapped his palm lightly against the table for emphasis. "And that’s not all.

There were times he asked Lisa for something—cookies, toys, extra dessert, whatever—and when she refused..." He leaned closer, lowering his voice theatrically. "Do you know what he used to do?"

Julie leaned in slightly without realizing it, her curiosity blooming like a spark catching fire. "What?"

Azazel pressed one hand to his chest, his eyes widening as if recalling a historic tragedy.

The entire table seemed to focus on him—Roman in murderous silence, Julie with eager anticipation, Denovan trying not to choke on laughter, and even the quiet clinks of cutlery died down.

Azazel dragged out the suspense, pausing just long enough to get under Roman’s skin.

Roman’s jaw flexed. His fingers tapped once against the table—an unmistakable sign of a man losing patience.

Julie waited, breath held for the answer, her lips parted slightly as her eyes stayed locked on Azazel.

She didn’t know what to expect, but from the look of Roman’s mortified silence... she knew it was something big.

Azazel’s grin widened slowly as he prepared to speak, his expression glowing with triumph, as if he were about to reveal the family’s most treasured scandal.

"He would act like a spoiled brat. Let me show you," Azazel announced proudly, as if presenting a masterpiece.

Before anyone could stop him, he hopped out of his chair with the energy of a mischievous child.

He strode toward Lisa, who was already smiling so wide her eyes crinkled—clearly reliving the memory before the reenactment even began.

Julie leaned forward, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Azazel pushing out his lips into the most dramatic pout she had ever witnessed.

His cheeks puffed like a sulking toddler’s, and he dropped his head low as though the whole world had wronged him.

Julie’s hand flew to her mouth, trying—failing—to stifle a laugh.

But Azazel wasn’t done.

He shifted into the next pose with exaggerated flair: one hand landed on his waist, fingers spread dramatically, as he shoved his hip outward.

His butt stuck out slightly to the side in a ridiculous, almost theatrical stance.

He stared at Lisa with wide, pleading eyes for a long, exaggerated moment... then abruptly turned his head away with a sharp pout, as if gravely offended.

That did it.

Denovan exploded first, pounding the table as he wheezed with laughter.

Lisa followed, her laughter warm and loud, echoing through the dining hall.

Julie collapsed into giggles, clutching her stomach, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

Roman, however...

Roman looked like a man silently questioning why he hadn’t disowned his brother years ago.

His expression was pure murder—jaw tightened, eyes narrowed into lethal slits. A muscle ticked dangerously in his cheek.

Azazel, thrilled with the chaos he was causing, lifted his other hand to place it on his second hip, ready to complete the full bratty pose—

But fate intervened.

A fork sliced through the air toward him.

Julie gasped. Azazel shrieked and ducked, stumbling back.

"You missed!" Denovan howled, wiping tears from his eyes.

Roman did not even flinch. He simply reached for the small knife he had been using to cut his food—his movements slow, calm, and absolutely terrifying.

With a flick of his wrist, the knife darted across the room.

Azazel didn’t wait to see where it landed.

He bolted.

His chair toppled behind him as he sprinted away like a man fleeing a supernatural creature.

Footsteps thundered against the marble floor as he raced toward the staircase.

"Sister-in-law! Help me, please!" he screamed, voice cracking.

Julie burst into another round of laughter, unable to breathe properly.

Azazel knew his brother too well: Roman would either chase him down for a private, very long lecture... or, even worse, confiscate his car keys and hide them somewhere only the devil himself could find.

And Azazel had suffered enough weeks of calling cabs to know which fate he feared more.

💛 A Little Note to My Dear Readers 💛

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