Chapter 27 Roman Likes Them Slim
Roman Likes Them Slim
Isla
Roman slunk to his knees, crouching over his sister’s phone. “Who is just like his other one?” He broke the silence, looking up momentarily. "Has he been raping women I slept with? Or is it the more obvious choice, and he was talking about my sister?”
I had no idea what to make of anything. I didn't know Sergei or Roman's sister. I barely knew Roman! This story was so twisted; it made my past life look like a walk in the park.
"Look at this.” Roman pointed to the phone, and I peeked over his shoulder to look at the photo. “This is Sergei's wife. Why was she there that night? Did they know each other? She’s standing very close to them.” I dropped to my knees beside him, taking the phone out of his hands.
Indeed, the woman in question stood right behind the smiling group, as if she were a part of them, just distracted.
“When I looked at these photos five years ago, I didn't know who the hell this was.
..but I do now." Roman continued on. "In fact, this was one of the mystery girls. I could never locate her.”
"Is there any way for you to get, like...a copy of all of Natasha’s texts? And calls? And emails? It was so long ago, but maybe the phone company can produce those things?" I proposed uncertainly, not sure how to help.
"I looked through it all back then…but so did Sergei. Did he know Lena then?” He pierced me with his blue eyes, deep worry etched into every one of his beautiful features.
Roman swiped through the photos, confirming his next suspicions.
“She’s not in any other photos, just this one.
Did he delete the others? Did he miss one? ”
Roman was standing on his feet now, holding his head in his hands. Having to dig up the biggest tragedy of his life and reassess it must have been heartbreaking for him.
"I have to fucking make up with him and get him to talk. Get him to say something,” he gritted. “The anniversary of her death is coming up in a few months, and I'm going to have to do a memorial. And I'm going to bring it all back. And when I find out he did it...I'm going to kill him."
Roman spoke calmly and looked right past me, as if talking to himself.
Deep fear settled in my stomach at his words.
It dawned on me just how little I knew him.
Casually, he told me he was going to murder someone.
He also burned someone. With me he was a puppy; gentle, soft-spoken, vulnerable, and tender.
But the rest of the world saw his brutal and merciless version.
That night, Roman tossed and turned in his sleep beside me. He sighed and muttered, as if trying to speak in his dreams, like the truth was torturing him while he was unconscious.
The next few days he was broody, drowning in darkness. But all that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of me. As if coming out of a trance, he mellowed in my arms, softened with my kisses, and touched me as tenderly as ever.
Two weeks flew by since the evening he came to the realization that Sergei may have betrayed him, and one night, he indeed made up with him. He slumped down on the couch, the phone in his hands, and dialed the number.
Hearing him speak Russian opened up a new door of lust for him in my mind.
His voice was deeper, angrier, and the language sounded so rough and foreign.
Each word was sharp and final, like a death sentence.
He spoke fluently, all the hard letters rolling off his tongue with ease, making him even more mysterious to me.
With all that in the background, I continued going to work, and Roman absolutely hated it. His opinion was that the job wouldn't give me anything, and I didn't need to work because he would take care of me and give me everything I wanted.
I found his words both comical and infuriating. We were in love, of course, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t rely on him for everything. Begrudgingly, he agreed with me, but I knew his opinion never changed.
The conversation of me going back to university was shelved for the time being, and I was happy not to discuss it.
But I did receive a phone call from the estate lawyer, updating me on my parents’ probate: it would be completed very soon, and I would finally have the funds to go back to school.
I only had to make one decision—go back to New York or transfer close to Roman, and in my mind, it wasn’t even a question—close to him, of course.
Every day, I went to work, but during lunch breaks and after hours, I studied and reviewed the material I had learned in university. I bought all my textbooks again and committed to at least an hour of review each day, with extra time set aside on weekends.
It was hard to make time because when Roman and I weren’t at work, we were fucking. It had been something like three weeks since everything changed between us, and I couldn’t get enough of him.
My lust and attraction for him were overwhelming in the best possible way.
We fucked, and we made love on every surface in his entire huge penthouse.
In the last three weeks I had more orgasms than in my entire life before him.
I wanted his hands and lips on me non-stop, and he happily obliged, giving me everything I wanted and taking everything I would give him.
It was both rough and sensual, and those two juxtaposing approaches satisfied my hunger for him…but never fully.
Sometimes, I’d catch myself wondering if I cared that he was ten years older. If I were to think about it logically, nothing between us made sense. We were from different worlds, different ages—polar opposites. But I couldn't, I couldn't unravel my thoughts or my body from him.
The first week of work was coming to an end, and I ran home a little earlier than usual, showered, changed, and cozied up in the corner of the couch with a textbook.
I only had an hour before Roman came home, and I used the time as productively as I could, but a knock on the front door interrupted me mid-paragraph.
Weird. I momentarily wondered if I should get it.
A few seconds passed, and I went back to reading, but the knock sounded again, louder this time.
My curiosity got the best of me, and I approached the door to look through the peephole.
Two young women were on the other side, waiting for the door to open.
Tall and fit, they both looked like models. One had long wavy blonde hair, and the other had long jet-black hair. They chatted to each other, casually laughing between themselves, but then the blonde knocked again.
I jumped back from the sound, but then, without thinking about it, for some reason I swung the door open.
There was a second of silence as we looked each other over—just enough time for my heart to start its freefall.
"Um, hi? Is Roman home? We’re a little late." The dark-haired model spoke to me like we were in high school, with the same tone of constant disapproval.
"No. Can I help you with something?" I responded confidently, my hands breaking out in cold sweat. I hoped to God this was not what I thought it was.
"We'll just wait for him then." The blonde piped up and literally pushed me out of the way to walk inside with her companion. I was fucking stunned! Who the fuck were they? Okay, fine, this wasn’t my apartment, but I fucking lived here! With my boyfriend!
Speechless from their audacity, I watched how they strolled toward the living room, as if they owned the place. The dark-haired girl sat down while the blonde headed to the kitchen!
“You want something to drink?” She turned and asked her friend, as if I were invisible.
What the actual fuck was going on?!
"Um, I'm sorry, who are you? And—and what are you doing here?" I finally asked the question, my previous confidence gone without a trace.
"Sweetheart? You work here, I gather? Can you make me a coffee? Just black, no sugar." The blonde came back with a water bottle and interrupted me without shame. "Roman likes 'em slim." She chuckled at the brunette while running her hands down her hips.
My mind was descending into pure hell. Such bitter disappointment accosted all of me, anger and betrayal not far behind. These were obviously Roman's...women.
I vehemently tried to engage my logical brain. This made no sense. Why the hell would they show up here? Roman said he loved me; I knew it. I felt it. Why were these girls here?!
My shock must have been written all over my face because the brunette finally answered my question. "Roman called us. Can you make sure you're done cleaning and cooking before he comes?" She shot me a fake smile that disappeared within an instant.
"Oh! And please don't forget the coffee. No sugar.” The blonde repeated, as if I didn’t hear her the first time. “I know he has no milk or anything."
My legs grew into the floor as I stood there blazing, feeling all kinds of inadequate and inferior. Like I was not good enough. Like this was my fault.
My skin was crawling from the thought—she’d been here before; she knew he had no milk for coffee. She spent time with him, drank coffee with him...been in his arms.
The urge to burst into tears was overtaking me, but I swallowed my pain and responded quietly, "I don't know how to make coffee. You're welcome to do it yourself." The blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes before turning around and strutting to the kitchen.
I grabbed my textbook off the couch and, absolutely defeated and heartbroken, plopped down at the dining table, facing the kitchen, in perfect view of the two intruders in the living room.
I focused on breathing in and out. The textbook blurred behind my tears, and my heart clenched, collecting all the blood away from my extremities.
Whatever this was, it felt terrible. Like someone wrapped their long fingers around my neck, strangling me slowly, making sure I still heard and saw his duplicity.
Was I really this much of an idiot? Was Roman really deceiving me like this? Calling these women to meet him in the home we shared together when I was supposed to be at work?
My thoughts were tangled, unsure of which truth to seek. I couldn’t move, couldn’t abandon this situation. I had to power through and wait to see what Roman would have to say for himself.
The two intruders sat on the couch and chatted about something. Every once in a while, they would throw glances in my direction and giggle. Finally, after what felt like a fucking decade, Roman's keys jingled in the door, and he walked in, calling out a sweet hello to me like usual.
My heart thudded against my ribcage, both petrified and monumentally pissed off. As if rehearsed, the two women sang in unison. “Hi, Roman!” They giggled at their own greeting, their laughter carrying across the whole apartment. Our home.
Roman’s slow footsteps approached the living room, all my oxygen cut off from what was about to happen.
He came into view and froze at the sight of them.
His gaze darted across the room looking for something, and he found it—me.
Guilt and embarrassment reflected in his eyes, as if he were trying to silently apologize.
The pain from this stab in the heart amplified with each passing moment.
As quickly as he found me, he averted his gaze and refocused on the two women. And when he spoke, his voice was pure venom—unrecognizable. "What the fuck is this?"
But that meant nothing to them because they giggled over each other, their dark joy filling up the space between all of us.
"It's been so long, Roman. Steph and I were so happy to get a call from you!
" The blonde turned to the brunette for a second before asking a question that almost made me gag. "You want us both at the same time or—"
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he interrupted, his voice low, those blue eyes burning in rage. He crossed his arms and demanded an answer, waiting for them to respond with something coherent, but at this, the blonde jumped up and took a few leisurely strides toward him.
Toward my boyfriend. She got near him. Her little coquettish smile didn’t faze him, and he didn’t step away, merely pulled his head back.
"Oh Roman. You like to play your games, huh?" She bit her bottom lip, all of her movements seductive and fluid. "Our last visit ended so abruptly, I didn't even get a kiss!" She pouted, reaching for his arm, but he backed away quickly, a look of disgust on his face.
"I don't know what the fuck happened and how you both ended up here, but you have ten seconds to leave before I throw you both out." Roman barked out instructions, completely ignoring me.
A little confused, the two women paused, but their smiles didn’t falter. The dark-haired model now stood up too, her heels clicking as she neared him. "Oohh Daddy! Yes! Let's get rough, just how you like it!"
My jaw almost hit the floor when she suddenly dropped to her knees! Without missing a beat, Roman grabbed her upper arm and yanked her up, her little yelp echoing in the apartment.
"Get the fuck out." He motioned toward the front door, and as if I were the one in the wrong, I scrunched into myself when I saw Roman drag her down the hall, her feet barely able to keep up.
"Roman! What the fuck?!” The brunette protested, but he was silent. They disappeared out of view while the blonde just stood there, her hands splayed in front of her, clearly lost.
Just like me. I was lost, utterly and devastatingly disoriented.
"Roman, what the fuck are you doing?!" She breathed, but Roman was already back in front of her, pushing her down the same path.
Some other words were exchanged, but then the door slammed shut, cutting them off and plunging the whole place in deafening silence. The textbook still sat in front of me, and I stared at page number ninety-three, feeling absolutely disgusted at what I’d just witnessed.
I didn't want to see him. I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere, but here.