Chapter 10 #2
But Roman wasn't looking at me. He was staring in the direction Dmitri had gone upstairs, brow furrowed, expression dark and unreadable.
My curiosity finally won out over my embarrassment.
"Did something happen between you two before?" I asked.
Roman finally turned to look at me. Those black eyes had tucked away the coldness he'd shown Dmitri, but what replaced it was even more frightening.
"You just need to do your job."
I shut my mouth.
Fine. No problem.
What business was it of mine anyway? I was just a fake wife under a one-year contract.
But somehow, being shut down like that made something inside me sink hollowly.
Dinner took nearly two hours.
Maria sat at the head of the table. She seated me on her right, Roman on her left, Mira next to Roman, and Dmitri across the table, diagonal from me.
Maria elegantly cut her steak while occasionally glancing up to observe the two of us.
Roman and I performed a whole tableaux of marital bliss—he served me food, I passed him wine, and every so often we had to exchange loving glances. My smile was so stiff my face was cramping.
Roman, meanwhile, acted with complete ease.
I mentally griped while maintaining my sweet smile.
"Which room are you two sleeping in tonight?" Maria asked out of nowhere.
The fork in my hand trembled.
"My room," Roman answered without missing a beat, not even blinking. "Leah and I always sleep together."
"Good." Maria nodded with satisfaction, then glanced at me. "Mira said she wanted a little sister."
I nearly choked on my water.
Congrats, Mira. Your sister's already in the mail.
I barely suppressed a cough, keeping my smile plastered on. I reflexively glanced down at my stomach, then quickly looked away, trying not to let anyone see the guilt on my face.
Dinner ended in my torment. Maria said she was tired and wanted to rest early. Emily helped her upstairs, and Dmitri took his leave as well.
The manor's front door closed again in the night. The hallway fell quiet.
I felt like I'd been pardoned. I turned to head for my separate bedroom.
Someone grabbed my arm.
I stumbled backward and crashed into Roman's expressionless face. That's when I remembered—I was supposed to sleep with Roman tonight.
I'd been so anxious about the baby that I'd completely forgotten this major detail.
"You're distracted," Roman said, staring at me.
"Lying to your grandmother makes me feel guilty." I looked away, mumbling half the truth.
Roman didn't press. He didn't let go either. He just pulled me along, heading toward the master bedroom.
The moment the door closed behind us, an indescribable awkwardness rushed over me. What happened yesterday came flooding back uncontrollably.
I felt my face start to burn again.
Roman completely ignored my discomfort. He closed the door and immediately started undressing.
He loosened his tie first, then unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time.
My gaze stuck to his hands uncontrollably, watching that expanse of chest reveal itself bit by bit—solid muscles marked with several dark old scars.
I jerked my head away like I'd been burned, staring hard at a painting on the wall. My heart pounded.
What are you looking at, Leah? What the hell are you looking at?
"I'm showering first."
Roman walked into the bathroom, oblivious. Soon, the sound of rushing water came from inside.
I stared at the king-sized bed in the center of the room, feeling like the sky was about to fall.
I was screwed. Truly screwed.
I had a fatal flaw—my sleeping habits were a disaster. Harper had complained countless times about me kicking her out of bed in the middle of the night.
Because I turned into an octopus, clinging desperately to anything warm beside me.
If we slept in separate rooms, this wouldn't be a problem at all.
But now we had to sleep in the same bed. And not just anyone—Roman Volkov.
The man who made me anxious.
Just imagining myself half-asleep, grabbing onto him or kicking him in my sleep made my scalp tingle.
No. Absolutely not.
I hurried to the bed and grabbed the down comforter, wrapping myself completely in it. From feet to shoulders, round and round, even tucking both arms inside.
Then I rolled myself to the very edge of the bed, practically hanging off the side.
I mentally gave myself a satisfied pat on the back.
Leah Carter, you're a genius.
In this position, my chin rested right on the edge of the comforter. I stared at the ceiling, trying to relax, preparing to fall asleep like this and survive this unbearable night.
Just then, the water stopped.
My heartbeat inexplicably quickened.
Then the door opened. A wave of steamy air and body wash scent drifted out from the bathroom.
Most of the room's lights had been turned off at some point. Only a dim yellow lamp remained by the bed. Wrapped in my cocoon, back to the bathroom, I didn't turn around. But I could clearly hear his bare feet on the carpet, step by step, approaching the bed.
I held my breath and tucked myself tighter.
Then the other side of the bed sank heavily.
I felt that tall figure climb onto the bed. The whole mattress shook.
In the darkness, he was very close, yet somehow very far—half a bed's distance that felt like a levee about to collapse.
Stop beating.
I pleaded desperately with my heart.
Please. Stop beating.