35. Roman
ROMAN
Five minutes into the drive, I remember exactly why Lev isn’t my driver.
His hands are steady on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. But he doesn’t play music, and he doesn’t talk unless he has to.
So there’s just the silence.
Long, awkward, painfully boring silence that Lev seems perfectly content to leave unbroken.
I’m in the back with Vera. She’s pressed against my side, her head on my shoulder. She’s asleep, or close to it. Her breathing is slow and even, her body limp with exhaustion.
I should let her rest. After everything that’s happened, she deserves to sleep.
As much as I’d like to join her in sleep, I can’t. I keep replaying the last few hours in my mind. I killed him. My own father.
I keep waiting for it to haunt me. It doesn’t. What unsettles me isn’t the killing—it’s how easily I could do it again.
Vera shifts beside me, her fingers tightening on my thigh. I wrap my arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. She murmurs something in her sleep and settles again.
Lev pulls up to the building and kills the engine. “We’re here,” he says, his voice rough. “You two need anything?”
“We’re good.” I open my door and slide out, then reach in to help Vera. She stumbles a little, still half-asleep, and I catch her against my chest. “Just need to sleep.”
Lev nods. “Call me if you need anything. I don’t think we’ll need them now, but there are guards stationed at their usual posts.” He pauses. “I know coming back to the penthouse isn’t ideal, but at least it’s secure.”
“Right, good.”
I lead Vera to the elevator, my arm around her waist to steady her. She leans into me, her body soft and warm against mine. The elevator ride up is quiet.
When the doors open, I guide her down the hallway to our door. I swipe the keycard and push it open.
Vera stops just inside the doorway. Her eyes sweep across the living room, then to the windows that overlook the city.
“I missed this place,” she says, her voice soft with surprise. “Can you believe that?”
“Yes.”
She turns to face me. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, but she manages a small smile.
I pull her into my arms and kiss her. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s hungry and desperate, weeks of fear and longing and relief pouring out of me and into her. She kisses me back just as desperately, her hands tangling in my hair.
I want her. I want to strip her clothes off and carry her to the bed so I can lose myself in her for hours. I want to forget everything that’s happened by burying myself in her body.
When I start to move us toward the bedroom, a sharp pain shoots through my ribs. I gasp and stumble, breaking the kiss.
Vera catches me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.” Her voice is firm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just my ribs. I got lucky.”
“Lucky’s not the word I’d use.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t press the issue. I let her pull me up and lead me to the bedroom. I’m exhausted in a way I haven’t been in years, every part of me aching.
She helps me undress and I collapse onto the bed. Vera curls around me, careful of the injuries, and presses her face into my undamaged side.
By the time I turn to look at her, she’s already asleep.
Within moments I follow her under. For the first time in maybe my whole life, I sleep the night through until dawn.
The first light of dawn filters through the windows. I’m awake before Vera. The bandage on my ribs is stiff with dried blood. I need to change it.
I slide out of bed carefully, trying not to wake her. She murmurs something in her sleep and rolls onto her side, her hand searching for me in the empty space. I watch her for a moment, my chest tight with something I still can’t name.
Then I head for the shower.
The hot water stings the wound on my side. I peel off the bandage and toss it in the trash, then let the water run over me, washing away the last traces of blood and sweat and gunpowder. By the time I get out, the wound is clean. I dress it again, then pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
When I return to the bedroom, Vera is awake. She’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, her hands resting on her stomach. She’s wearing one of my shirts, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair is a mess around her shoulders.
“You’re up early,” I say.
“Couldn’t sleep.” She doesn’t turn around. Her eyes are fixed on her reflection. “Do you think I’ll start showing soon?”
I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She leans into me, her back against my chest. I rest my chin on her shoulder and look at our reflection in the mirror.
“You’ll look beautiful pregnant,” I say. My voice is low, rougher than I intend. “All swollen with my child.”
She shifts against me. “That’s one way to put it.”
“It’s the truth.” My hands splay across her stomach, possessive. “Everyone will know you’re mine. That you’re carrying my baby.”
She turns her head to look at me. “I’m already yours, Roman.”
“Are you?” I kiss her neck, my teeth scraping gently against her skin. She shivers. “Are you really?”
I turn her in my arms and kiss her. When I pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes dark with desire. I want to push her against the wall and take her right here, right now.
But my ribs are screaming and she’s still exhausted from yesterday. So I settle for what I can have.
“Breakfast,” I say. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
I take her hand and lead her from the bedroom.
Oksana is in the kitchen when we arrive. She’s at the stove with a spatula in hand, humming something that sounds vaguely like a lullaby. The smell of coffee and bacon fills the air.
“Good morning,” she says when she sees us. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving.”
Vera slides onto a barstool at the island. I take the one next to her, our knees brushing under the counter. Oksana sets a mug of decaf coffee in front of each of us, then returns to the stove.
There’s something strangely domestic about this moment. It feels normal, like something regular people do.
“What’s on the agenda today?” Vera asks.
“Nothing.” I sip my coffee. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” I set my mug down. “No meetings or family drama.”
Mostly because my family is all dead. The thought is accompanied by a twist in my gut, but I shove it aside.
Oksana sets a plate in front of each of us. There are scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. It’s simple, but all I can stomach right now anyway.
“Thank you,” Vera says.
“My pleasure.” Oksana wipes her hands on her apron. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
She disappears down the hallway, leaving us alone.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s just... quiet. Peaceful.
“What if I get bored?” Vera asks finally. “I’m so used to the drama, I don’t know how to just exist.”
“Then we’ll find something to do.” I push my plate away. “We could go to the museum. Or take a walk along the lake. Or stay in bed all day.”
“Those are my options?”
“Those are your options.”
She considers this. “What if I want to go shopping?”
“Then we’ll go shopping.”
“What if I want to learn how to shoot a gun?”
I pause, my fork halfway to my mouth. “What?”
“You heard me. I want to learn how to shoot a gun.”
I set my fork down. “Why?”
“I’m tired of being helpless, and I’m tired of relying on other people to protect me.” She meets my eyes. “It would be good to be able to protect myself.”
I consider this. On the one hand, the idea of Vera with a gun is terrifying. On the other, she’s right. She’s been relying on others for too long.
“Okay,” I say finally. “We’ll start you on something small. A .22, maybe. Then you can work your way up.”
Her eyes widen. “You’re not going to argue?”
“Should I?”
“I expected you to.” She shrugs and stabs a piece of bacon with her fork.
“I’m trying something new.”
Her brow lifts. “Being reasonable?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m a demanding teacher.”
She smiles. “I’m counting on it.”
We finish our breakfast in comfortable silence. When we’re done, I take our plates to the sink and start washing them. Vera leans against the counter, watching me.
“You know,” she says, “this is the first time we’ve ever done this.”
“Done what?”
“Eaten breakfast together like a normal couple.”
I turn off the water and reach for a towel. “Is that what we are now, a normal couple?”
“I don’t know.” She pushes off the counter and comes to stand in front of me. “Are we?”
I dry my hands, then catch her by the waist and pull her close.
I lean down and capture her lips. She tastes of sweetened coffee and salt, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.
She kisses me back, her lips soft and yielding. I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opens for me with a soft sigh. I explore her mouth slowly, learning her all over again.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing harder. She looks at me like she isn’t nearly finished.
“Bedroom,” I say. It’s not a question.
She nods and takes my hand.
I lead her back down the hallway, her hand in mine. The morning light streams through the windows.
In the bedroom, I turn her to face me. Her eyes are wide, trusting. I bend down to kiss the corner of her lips, tasting coffee again.
“You’re beautiful,” I say. “Do you know that?”
“Roman—”
“No, let me say this.” I trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat. “I’ve seen you angry and defiant and terrified, but I’ve never seen you like this. Peaceful.”
Tears well in her eyes and I kiss them away before they can fall.
“Hey now,” I murmur into her hair. “None of that.”
“I’m just happy,” she whispers. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this happy.”
“Me neither.”
I kiss her again, slow and deep. When I nip at her bottom lip, she laughs.
When I pull back this time, my eyes catch on the slight curve of her stomach. It’s subtle, something no one else would notice, but I do. I notice everything about her.
“You’re changing,” I say, my hand moving to rest on her belly. “Right here.”
Her breath hitches. “I am?”
“Mmm.” I lean down and press a kiss to the spot just below her navel. “It’ll be a while until you’re really showing, but I can see the difference.”
Tears fill her eyes again, but this time they’re happy tears. She smiles, and it lights up her whole face.
“I feel different. Fuller.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say again. “You’re going to be even more beautiful.”
Her smile widens. “You keep saying that.”
The smile lingers for a moment before she looks down at her hands. Vera falls quiet, and after a long pause, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
“I need to tell you something,” she says. “I still need a doctor to confirm it, but...”
“But?”
“For every woman in my family, early-onset morning sickness has always meant twins.”
My eyes widen. The air rushes out of my lungs like I’ve been punched. “Twins,” I repeat. “You think you’re having twins?”
She shifts, averting her gaze. “I think it’s possible.”
I stare at her. My mind races, trying to make room for the image. Two heartbeats. Two tiny bodies. Two pieces of her and me.
Something fierce and overwhelming expands inside my chest.
“Roman?” Her voice is hesitant. “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, I surge up and kiss her. There are no words for what’s moving through me, and suddenly I need her close enough that there’s no space left between us.
I pull back just long enough to strip off my shirt, then I’m kissing her again, my hands roaming her body. I want to touch every part of her, memorize every curve and hollow of this incredible body.
“Roman,” she gasps into the kiss. “Slow down.”
“No.”
I pick her up and carry her to the bed, settling her gently among the pillows. My side twinges in pain, but I don’t even care. I follow her down, my body covering hers as I straddle her hips.
I kiss her until we’re both breathless. She’s writhing beneath me, her hands clutching at my back. Then I move down, my lips trailing a path down her throat until I reach the hollow of her navel.
“Roman. Please.”
I smile against her skin. “Please what?”
“Touch me. I need you to touch me.”
I oblige, my hand inching past the waistband of her pants to find her slick and ready. I circle her clit in slow, teasing circles until she’s begging me for more.
“Roman, please,” she says. “I need more.”
I press two fingers into her, deep and slow, until she’s rocking against my hand with a moan. Her breath catches, her fingers twisting into the sheets as a broken sound slips from her lips.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, my voice low. “Tell me.”
“Yes. God, yes.”
I stroke deeper, hitting the spot that undoes her, and she arches off the bed with a cry. She trembles beneath me, every muscle drawing tight as I repeat the motion, bringing her closer to the edge.
“Roman.” My name breaks on her lips. “I’m going to?—”
“Not yet,” I say. “Not without me.”
I pull my fingers out and she whimpers at the loss. I silence her with a kiss, then position myself between her legs. My cock is already hard, leaking as I tug down my boxers.
I look at her, and she’s incredible. Her hair is a mess on the pillow and her cheeks are flushed. I could stare at her forever.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
I slide my cock into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to me. She’s so tight, so perfect. It feels like coming home.
“Move,” she gasps. “Please, dammit, move.”
I find a gentle rhythm that has her panting beneath me. Except it’s not enough. It’s not what either of us needs.
I pick up the pace, my thrusts harder, deeper. She meets me stroke for stroke, her legs wrapping around my waist as she muffles a gasp.
“Like that. Just like that.”
I don’t hold back, giving in to the pace that’s driving us both toward the edge. I can feel her getting closer already, her walls clenching around my cock.
“Roman,” she gasps. “I’m going to?—”
“Let go,” I say. “Let go for me.”
She does. Her orgasm crashes through her, her body convulsing around mine. My release is so intense it leaves me shaking. I come hard, feeling my own come leak from her onto the sheets between our joined bodies.
I collapse beside her, my body spent, my heart pounding. Her heart is beating just as hard as mine.
I shift us both upright, pulling her gently to my chest as I catch my breath. I hold her close as our breathing slowly steadies. I brush my lips over her temple, then her forehead, lingering there.
“Still with me?” I murmur into her hair, my hand stroking down her back in slow sweeps.
I tilt her chin up gently, meeting her eyes with a soft smile before trailing my lips down her neck and collarbone.
“You are so good for me,” I whisper, pressing another kiss just below her navel. “You always are.”
She just smiles sleepily and tugs me upward so she can cuddle into my side.
“Love you,” Vera murmurs.
“Love you, too.”