Chapter 74

Nina

After we get back, I take a quick shower, change into leggings and an oversized T-shirt, and head to the kitchen to prepare popcorn. Roman apparently loves orange juice, he drinks liters of it, so I squeeze a few oranges for him and take it to the living room.

He is already there, sitting with his arms over the back of the sofa, his right leg stretched out in front of him with the heel propped on the table.

"You look strange in casual clothes." I place the bowl and the juice on the table, and nod toward his sweats and T-shirt.

"Oh? How so?"

"I don't know. Less pakhan-ish, I guess." I shrug and drop down on the sofa next to him "What are we watching?"

"I don't care. Move over."

I move to the corner, and Roman lies down on the sofa, places his head in my lap, and closes his eyes.

"Does your leg hurt?"

"Yes," he says, but there is a slight delay in his reply.

"Are you lying?"

"Nope." He shakes his head. His eyes are still closed, but the corners of his mouth lift a bit.

"Oh yes, you are lying." I bend down slightly. "You just want me to pet you."

He opens his eyes and reaches up to tuck one of the strands that escaped my ponytail behind my ear. "Yes," he says and closes his eyes again.

I take a deep breath, trying to control my racing heartbeat, and then bury my fingers in his hair. We stay like that, him lying on my lap and me petting him, in front of a turned-off TV until a phone ringing somewhere in Roman's room breaks the silence.

"Shit," Roman groans and sits up.

"I'll get it." I stand and hurry into his room.

When I come back, Roman is looking at me with strange intensity, but I shrug it off as one of the many strange looks he's been giving me lately, and offer him the phone. He reaches for it, but instead of taking it, he closes his hand over my forearm and pulls me toward him. The phone is still ringing, but he doesn't let go of my forearm, drawing me between his legs. His other hand reaches up and rests at the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek.

"Roman?" I ask in a small voice, "What are you doing?"

"Answering the phone."

"It stopped ringing."

"I know." His hand slides down my forearm and pries the phone from my fingers.

"Roman?"

"Yes, malysh?" He throws the phone to the side, and it slides along the polished floor all the way to the bookshelf.

My breathing quickens as I raise my arms and wrap them around his neck, then lean into him so that our lips are only millimeters apart. He doesn't take his eyes from mine, and the way he's looking at me does strange things to my insides.

"Are you trying to kiss me, Roman?" I whisper into his lips.

"I might be," he says.

"There is no one around to see us."

"Exactly," he whispers and touches his lips to mine.

He goes slowly at first, like he's savoring me, but then his arms close around my back and he leans back onto the cushions, taking me with him. The way this man kisses should be ruled as hazardous to mental health, and prohibited. It feels like a hurricane is sweeping me off my feet, scrambling both my body and mind. I reach down with my hand, grab a fistful of his T-shirt and start tugging it upward. Roman breaks the kiss and removes his shirt at the same time I drop mine on the floor. While he's removing his sweats, I unclasp my bra and get rid of my leggings and underwear, and then climb onto his lap. His hand comes to the back of my neck, and he crashes his mouth to mine again.

I can't stop touching him, his chest, his face, his cock which is already fully erect. Roman slides his hand between our bodies and I feel his fingers start teasing my clit.

"So wet," he whispers in my ear and thrusts one finger inside of me.

I almost come on his hand right then and there, and I probably would have if he didn't remove his finger, making me growl in frustration. It isn't about his finger, though. It's about him. Roman Petrov, the man who will be my doom. Call it a premonition or an instinct-doesn't matter. I know he will destroy me because one look from Roman turns me on stronger than any other man before him has done with his cock.

"If you don't get inside me right this moment,"-I take a handful of his hair and squeeze-"I'm going to murder you, Roman."

His hands slowly travel down my chest and ribcage until he reaches my waist. Lifting me, he positions me above his cock, those devilish eyes never moving from mine, even for a second.

"Your wish is my command, Nina," he says and thrusts inside me.

I moan and hear him groan at the same time. He's too big but, dear God, it feels so good. I bury my nails into his shoulders as I spasm around him while he pounds into me. It's madness and I scream, not giving a fuck if anyone hears us. Roman groans my name and, a moment later, comes inside me. Perfection.

Roman's hand traces patterns from the top of my neck and all the way down to my ass, then backtracks upward. I've been lying sprawled over his chest for at least five minutes, but I can't make myself move.

"Nina? Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "But I'm not moving. I like it here."

"I like having you here as well, malysh."

* * *

I wake to the sound of a fast tapping noise coming somewhere above my head. I stretch a little and open my eyes to find myself lying on the sofa with a pillow under my head and a blanket covering me from neck to foot. The lights are off; the TV in front of me is on, showing a news channel, but the sound is muted. The tapping sound stops and, in the next moment I feel fingers combing through my hair. I tilt my head up and find Roman sitting at the end of the sofa next to my head. His hair is wet, and he has the laptop on his lap.

"You fell asleep on me earlier," he says.

"What time is it?"

"Half past seven. I told Varya that we'll have dinner here when you wake up."

"Sounds good." I stand up, clutching the blanket around me. "I'm going to take a quick shower."

"All right. I'll tell the kitchen to send the dinner up," he says and returns to his typing.

I pivot and head toward my bedroom, feeling slightly awkward with the whole situation. We had sex. Where does that put us now? It's not just a business arrangement anymore, is it? Should we ignore the fact that we had sex and pretend it never happened? I'm not sure I can do that because, to be honest, I don't want to. We will have to talk about it. I might be a fan of a shove-problems-under-the-carpet approach, but I don't think there is a rug large enough for it this time.

After my shower, I march back into the living room, intent on discussing the new situation with Roman, only to find him in his wheelchair, fully clothed, and putting on his wristwatch.

"What's going on?"

"Something came up. Don't wait up for me," he says, and before I can object, he's gone.

I stare at the door, then walk to the other side of the room where the big window overlooks the driveway. There are three cars parked in front, with four of the security guys waiting next to them. A couple of minutes later, Roman, Maxim, and Kostya come out of the house and get into the cars, followed by a few more security guys. And then, the cars leave.

Valentina brings the dinner sometime later, but I leave it on the dining table, hoping Roman will come back soon. He doesn't, so around ten, I eat a few pieces of cold grilled fish and some salad. I put the leftovers into the fridge and watch some TV. Every fifteen minutes I get up and look out the window to see if the cars are back. Around midnight, I decide to call it a night.

* * *

The sound of car doors slamming and shouting wakes me. I jump out of bed and dash through the suite to the big window. Two of the cars are back. Most of the doors are open, and the last few men are coming inside. Two of them support the third between them, practically dragging him up the stairs.

Shit. I run back into my room, pull a hoodie and sweatpants over my pajamas, and rush toward the big stairwell.

There is no one in the hall. I turn around and notice blood splattered on the white marble floor, creating a path toward the right hallway, in the direction of the kitchen. I follow the red spots along the corridor and find the kitchen doors wide open. Urgent voices and commotion blare from inside.

My blood runs cold at the sight of Varya hunched over Kostya. He is sprawled on his back on the big island in the middle of the kitchen, with Maxim holding a bloody rag to his side. One of the security guys comes running and places a box with medical supplies next to Kostya's head and then switches places with Maxim, who goes to the sink and washes his hands with mad speed.

They are all shouting in Russian, and I don't understand a thing they're saying, but the sight speaks for itself. Something went wrong. And where the hell is Roman?

Two more security guys burst into the kitchen with a short bony man carrying a doctor's bag. The doctor heads to the sink, and like Maxim, starts scrubbing his hands. They don sterile gloves and approach Kostya, who is pale, but conscious and panting. The doctor takes a look under the rag and prepares the needle and thread, while Maxim cleans the cut.

Footsteps approach from behind me, and the last of the security guys come into the kitchen with Roman wheeling in after them. A sigh of relief leaves my lungs when I see he's unharmed, and I lunge toward him.

"Jesus, Roman!" I whisper, grab onto his face with both hands, and kiss him. It's an angry kiss, but it still feels good. "What happened?"

"There was a slight disagreement with our supplier and things got out of hand."

"Kostya?"

"A knife slash on his side. He'll live."

I turn to look back at the island where the doctor seems to be finishing sewing Kostya's side. Maxim is placing an IV needle in his arm, while Varya holds up the bag of fluid.

"Should I help with something?" I ask.

"No, let's go upstairs. Varya and Maxim have it under control, and the doctor will stay the night."

* * *

"Is it always like this? Deals going wrong, people getting stabbed or shot?" I ask as we enter the suite. I'm still shaking. "Or cars getting blown up?"

"Not always. But it happens."

My throat has gone dry. How can he be so calm? In the kitchen, I grab a glass and pour cold water from the fridge. "That's fucked up, Roman." I shake my head and gulp down the water, wishing it was something stronger. "Your world is seriously fucked up."

"There is nothing I can do about it, Nina," he says.

Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at things. I should go back to bed but I'm too agitated, so I walk across the living room and stand at the window overlooking the driveway. The cars are gone. One security guy is standing on the side in front of the main door, a gun on his belt. Another one is patrolling the grounds toward the main gate, and this one has a rifle across his back. It looks like everything is back to normal in Roman's world.

I hear Roman approaching as he comes to stand behind me. His crutches enter my field of vision on either side while he hunches over me and places his chin on the top of my head. I've never felt so petite compared to him as I do with his huge body plastered to my back, but there is no panic. I guess all the adrenalin cured me of it.

"Where are we now, Roman?"

"What do you mean?"

"We had sex," I say, watching the man patrolling the grounds. "It wasn't something we planned for, you know. Where do we go from here?"

"I don't know, malysh. Where would you like to go?"

"I'm not sure."

There is silence while we both watch the night, its darkness broken by numerous lights set up around the lawn.

"It's late," Roman says and places a kiss on my shoulder. "Let's go to bed."

"Which one?"

"Well, I'll be in mine." He kisses the side of my neck. "And you can choose which one it will be for you. Your bed, or mine."

He leaves me standing at the window to consider his parting words. I know what I should do - go to my room and forget what happened on the sofa altogether. It would be the wisest choice. In fact, it should be the only choice.

I guess "wise" isn't in my cards. I turn around and head into Roman's room.