One week later
My phone starts ringing on the nightstand, but I ignore it and put a pillow over my head. The ringing stops, just to start again a minute later. I groan, reach for the damn thing, and answer without looking who’s calling.
“Did I wake you up, child?”
I sit up in the bed, instantly awake. “Varya?”
“I need to talk to you. Can I drop by?”
“Sure, I’ll text you the address.”
“I’ll be there in an hour then.”
“Varya, what’s happening? Is . . . is he okay?”
“Yes. For now, at least. We’ll talk when I get there.”
A bad feeling forms in my chest while I stare at my phone. Something is wrong, I know it. I rush into the bathroom to shower and change. I’m collecting the brushes and discarded sketches that litter the floor in my living room when I hear the doorbell.
“What the fuck has he done now?” I ask the moment Varya comes inside.
“I like the hair, kukolka. Green looks good on you.” She kisses me and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s sit.”
I lead her into the kitchen, pour us two cups of coffee I made earlier, and sit down in the chair opposite Varya. She slides the cup toward herself and holds it in her hands, looking at the liquid inside. “Can you please come back?”
Her question stuns me, and for a second, I stare at her speechlessly. “I’m not coming back. We divorced three months ago; you know that.”
“Roman started a war with the Italians. He did it on purpose. They have been playing cat and mouse for months now, attacking each other’s shipments, blowing up warehouses.”
“Dear God. What the hell was he thinking?”
“He wasn’t. I think he wanted a distraction, and the Italians were a convenient choice.”
“A hell of a distraction. Has he gone mad?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “I was there when he signed the divorce papers, you know. I think that up until that point he believed you’d come back eventually. But after signing those papers . . . he just snapped. Two weeks later he sent the guys to intercept one of the Italians’ shipments. And he went with them.”
“He did what?”
“He said it was because he needed to keep an eye on Sergei, and I assumed it was a onetime thing. It wasn’t.”
“I thought a pakhan is supposed to handle the organization, manage business deals or whatever, not play foot soldier.”
“He doesn’t seem to care, child. Do you know how big a deal it is in our world if a soldier manages to kill a pakhan? The one who does that becomes a hero among his peers. When it’s just the soldiers on the field, it’s business as usual, but with a pakhan there, he becomes the primary target.”
“Varya, I . . . I don’t know what you expect me to do. Call him and ask him to stop acting like an idiot?”
“I need you to come back. With you there, he won’t be so reckless. He wouldn’t want you to worry.”
“He’s a grown man, Varya. He doesn’t need me to act as his off switch.”
“Roman loves you, Nina. I don’t think you know how much.”
“A man died because of me. I told Roman I can’t live with that, and he killed him anyway. If he truly loved me, he would have never done that to me.”
“Do you know how Roman became a pakhan, child?” Varya asks, and I shake my head. “Let me tell you that story. It might help you understand things better.”
She looks down at her cup and starts stirring the liquid with a spoon.
“Roman’s mother married his father when she was only eighteen. Lev was twenty years older than her, and he was a really bad man, kukolka. I came into that house with Nastya. I had known her since she was a baby, and I hated seeing Lev mistreating her from the moment she arrived. He beat her, even while she was pregnant with Roman. When Roman was five, he started confronting his father on purpose so Lev would take out his anger on him instead of Nastya. It worked for a few months. Until it didn’t. A few days before Roman’s sixth birthday, Lev hit Nastya so hard that she fell down the stairs. Roman watched.”
“He killed her?”
“Yes. Broken neck. I took over taking care of Roman then. Lev married again a few years later, but Marina managed to run away. I’m not sure what happened with her, but we never heard anything about her afterward.”
“You think he killed her, too?”
“Probably. When Roman grew up, I started working as a housekeeper and tried my best to keep myself as far away as possible from the pakhan. I handled the staff and didn’t have any reason to cross Lev’s path. Until he called for me one day. When I came into the library, he grabbed me around my neck and slammed me into the wall, choking me. He was mad because the maid didn’t change the sheets that morning as he requested. When Roman came in, I was half passed out already. Roman killed him, and if he didn’t, Lev would have choked me to death.”
I look up at Varya, who is looking pointedly at the hand I raised at some point and unconsciously placed on my neck.
“We all have some kind of trigger, child. Roman saw that man as a threat to you, and he neutralized it. I’m not saying he did the right thing. I’m just trying to make you understand. He knows now that what he did hurt you, and believe me when I say he’d never do anything intentionally that may inflict you any kind of pain. He’s madly in love with you, and I think when you left, it broke something in him. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. I think he’s doing all those reckless things on purpose. He . . . he got shot last month.”
“What?” I whisper, and the tears I have been keeping at bay so far burst out.
“In his upper arm. He was lucky—it just went through, nothing serious. This time. Please, at least talk to him. He’s going to get himself killed, Nina. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Oh, I’ll talk to him.” I stand up from the table and hurry to grab my jacket and wallet, brushing my tears away with the sleeve of my shirt along the way. “I’ll call us a taxi.”
“Vova can take us. I think it’s his shift,” Varya says casually.
“He’s somewhere in the neighborhood?”
“You could say that. He’s across the street.”
I raise my head to look at her, then go to the window and look outside. Like she said, there is a nondescript car sitting there. “He put a tail on me?”
“He put a security detail on you. They have been there for months.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
When we exit the building, I march right across the street toward the car and knock on the window. Vova’s head snaps up, and he stares at me with wide eyes and quickly lowers the window.
“Nina Petrova?”
I grind my teeth but don’t correct him, only motion with my head to Varya who is approaching.
“We need a ride.”
“Of course.” He unlocks the door, and we get in the back. “Where do you need to go?”
“I’m paying Pakhan a visit,” I say and lean back into the seat.
* * *
It takes us close to an hour to reach the house. The moment the car stops in the driveway, I get out and rush up the stone steps toward the main door. The security guy, who is standing guard, looks at me with surprise, then nods and opens the door for me.
“Where is he, Kolya?”
“I believe Pakhan is in his office,” he says.
I rush across the hall and turn left toward the west wing corridor leading to Roman’s office. The closer I get to his door, the more my bravado leaks out of me. By the time I reach the door, I’m a bundle of nerves and anxiety. I’m going to see him again after all this time, and I am both excited and scared. I want to go inside, but at the same time, I want to turn around and bolt. No going back now—it’s too late.
Placing my hand on the handle, I take a deep breath, school my features into an expressionless mask, and enter without knocking.
Roman is sitting behind his desk, looking between papers in his hands and the laptop screen. I let the door behind me close, lean my back onto it, and watch him for a few seconds. God, I’ve missed him so much that just looking at him hurts.
“I hear you got yourself shot,” I say, and I’m amazed how casual I manage to sound—not a tremor in my voice, but a hurricane rages inside.
Roman’s head snaps up, his gaze colliding with mine, and he stares me down with such force that if I didn’t have the door behind me, I would have stumbled backward. So much is going on in his eyes, different emotions flashing and being replaced with others so quickly, I can’t catch all of them. There is surprise, but it’s mixed with hurt and so much rage that I can’t help but flinch.
“And that concerns you how, Nina?” Quiet, angry words—each one piercing my already shredded heart. He hates me.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of him. “Why?”
Why? Such a simple question. And so many answers. Because I was afraid for him. Because I missed him and wanted to see him even if only for a minute. Because I love him. But instead of answering, I stand there and try to control my breathing because, suddenly, it feels like there is not enough air in the room.
Roman stands up, reaches for the cane leaning on the desk, and walks toward me. He is leaning on his cane quite heavily, but his steps are sure and rather quick. One tear escapes from the corner of my eye. He did it; I knew he would.
He comes to stand in front of me and raises his hand to place it on the door next to my head, caging me in. He lowers his head so that our faces are only inches apart.
“I asked you a question. I need an answer, malysh.”
The dam bursts upon me hearing his endearment, and the tears flow freely down my face. My lower lip starts quivering so I bite it and slowly raise my hands to his face. They are trembling. I hesitate for a second, then place my palms on his cheeks.
“You. Left. Me,” he whispers, and then bangs the door with his palm. “You fucking left me!”
“I know.”
Rage. So much rage in his eyes as he looks down at me, his jaw set in a hard line.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispers. “I wish I could turn back time and do things differently. I can’t, and that’s a fact. But I am not sorry for killing that bastard. That’s another fact for you. I’ll ask again. Why do you care if I was shot?”
I can’t make myself look away from his eyes. He’s not sorry for what he did. Can I live with that?
Roman clenches his jaw, reaches with his hand, and buries it in the hair at the back of my head. “Answer me, damn it.”
“Because I love you, Roman!” I press my palms onto his cheeks and shake his stubborn head. “I love you. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. You will end this fucking war you have started, you hear me? I don’t care how you do it, but end it, or so help me God, I’m going to kill you myself.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, staring into my eyes with his fingers clutching the back of my head.
“Marry me,” he says, “and I’ll stop the war.”
Roman
Nina’s eyes go wide at my proposition. She’s probably wondering if I’m serious, and you bet I am. No matter the means, I’m getting her back.
“You are blackmailing me into marrying you. Again.”
It’s not a question, but I decide to clarify anyway. “Yes, I am.”
Her eyes stare into mine, and I watch them closely. They are red at the edges, and the tears are still flowing. I don’t think she even notices that she’s still crying, and I yearn to brush them away with my hand. This will be the last time she cries because of me, I vow it to myself.
I need her to say yes. There is no way I can go through one more night without my wildcat curled into my side. She took my black heart with her that day she left, and if she says no, she can keep it. I’m ruined for anyone else anyway.
“Jesus, Roman,” she sighs and presses the heels of her palms over her eyes.
I stare at her hands, which are smeared with black paint, and a tiny flame of hope rises in my chest. “You didn’t take off the rings.”
“I couldn’t.” She lowers her hands and sniffs.
Okay. We are getting somewhere. I reach for her hand and take off the rings from her finger. They come off too easily. She has lost weight. I’m going to strangle her.
“Give those back!” she yelps and grabs for my hand, but I move it behind my back.
“I will. Just give me a few seconds,” I say, and gripping the cane, slowly start lowering my left knee toward the floor.
Nina stares at me, her eyes wide. She is crying again. “Shit, baby. Don’t do that.”
I ignore the screaming pain in my right leg and lower my left knee a bit more. It’s not the exact pose I envisioned, but it’s the closest to getting on one knee I can manage. I raise the rings in front of her.
“Will you marry me, malysh?”
She whimpers and exhales, tears still streaming down her face, then grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me up. It takes me a few seconds to straighten, and when I do, she raises her hand between us.
“You are not getting away with the cheap version this time, Roman.” She sniffs. “I want a dress, big and fluffy and sparkling. I want a ton of flowers, an orchestra playing fancy music, and of course —”
I feel my lips curl up in a smile. I am so fucking in love with my crazy little wife.
“I love you,” I whisper, slide the rings onto her finger, then grab her face and kiss her.
* * *
I trace my palm down Nina’s back, then lower it to squeeze her ass, and retrace the path up all the way to the back of her head where my fingers get stuck in tangled dark green strands. “Will this wash off?”
Nina lifts her head from my chest and looks at the strand of hair between my fingers. “Not a fan of green?”
“Not really. But if you like it, I’m okay with it. It’s awful, though.”
“It’ll wash off in a week or so. I hate it too.” She shrugs and places her head down again, just over my heart. “How will you stop the war with the Italians?”
“The usual way. Someone is going to get married to a sweet and docile Italian girl.”
“How romantic. And who will be the lucky groom?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Probably Kostya.”
“I’m sure he will be thrilled.” She yawns and closes her eyes. “How’s the physical therapy been going?”
“I finished it two weeks ago. Warren said we reached the maximum of what could be achieved, so there is no need for it anymore.”
“I’m glad. I know how much you hated those sessions. You are sexy with the cane, just like I predicted.” She smiles sleepily.
I lift a few tangled strands of hair from her face, then look to the side of the bed where my crutches are leaning on the wall. I don’t think she noticed them when we came in, since we were preoccupied with removing our clothes on the way to the bed. She would find out in the morning anyway, but I prefer to tell her right away and be done with it.
“Nina . . . I have to tell you something.”
“Mhm . . . can it wait till the morning?”
“No.”
Her head snaps up immediately, her eyes staring me down. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. It’s just something I need you to know.”
“Oh, God . . .” She groans, “Just tell me what the fuck you did.”
My beautiful little flower is watching me, her eyes wide. I hate that I have to tell her. I hate it so much it makes me sick.
“I’m still using the crutches, Nina. My knee is still stiff in the mornings, and I can’t walk without them for the first hour or so.” I grit my teeth and continue, “I sometimes need them in the evenings, too.”
She is just watching me, her eyes staring into mine. I need her to say something. Anything.
“And?” she asks finally.
“And what? That’s it,” I say.
Her eyes widen even more.
“Holy fuck, Roman, don’t scare me like that.” She hits me on the chest with her palm. “I thought you were going to tell me something important, like how you offed Igor while I was away. Christ, baby.”
I stare at her. Not the reaction I expected. Disappointment, yes. Or at least some displeasure when she realized that she’ll end up tied to a disabled man for the rest of her life. Isn’t that bloody important? Maybe she thinks it’s only temporary.
“Nina, you don’t understand. It won’t get any better than this for me. I’m sorry, malysh.”
She leans forward until her forehead touches mine and places her palms on either side of my face. “Yes, you already told me. I also saw your crutches and deduced as much myself, baby. And I couldn’t care less.” She places a kiss on my lips. “So, you didn’t kill anyone while I was away?”
I decide to plead the Fifth, and wisely keep my mouth shut.
“Roman?” She narrows her eyes at me.
I sigh. “I offed Tanush, okay?”
“I knew it. I . . .” She shakes her head.
“He was the one who set up the bomb with Leonid.”
Nina regards me, scrunches her nose, then nods. “He deserved it.” She says and resumes her position on my chest. “Just please don’t kill anyone else because of me.”
I listen until her breathing evens out. When I’m sure she’s sleeping soundly, I take her small hand from my chest and place a kiss on the tips of her fingers.
“I will be killing anyone who dares to hurt you,” I whisper. “I will just make sure you don’t find out next time.”
