Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Leah
The sunlight stabbed my eyes.
I blinked them open and found myself alone in that massive bed. Every bone in my body ached like I'd been taken apart and put back together wrong—especially my lower back and inner thighs. Even the slightest movement brought back flashes of last night.
Water ran in the bathroom, mixed with a man's low hum. Roman. His side of the bed still held his warmth, his scent lingering on the pillow.
That man.
He'd wrecked me half the night, and here he was, up early and ready for work like some tireless machine.
Or maybe that's just what a Pakhan's stamina looked like.
I smiled bitterly at the thought, then buried my face in his pillow before I could stop myself, breathing him in deep.
Roman's scent flooded my nose—that mix of cedar and mint—and for a second, I could almost feel his arms wrapped tight around me again. A strange sense of safety crept over me. I clutched the pillow closer, ready to doze off just like this—
Until I realized what the hell I was doing and snapped my eyes open.
No. No, no, no.
God, Leah, what are you doing? Why are you acting like some lovesick fool?
I hugged my knees, forcing myself to get a grip.
Okay, Leah, listen. Last night was just hormones. You'd just heard all that tragic shit about his dead wife, felt sorry for him, did something stupid in the heat of the moment.
That's all.
He doesn't love you. You don't love him.
We're just two lonely souls who collided when we were both feeling empty, both needing someone to hold onto, some warmth.
It could've been anyone. We just happened to be there in that vulnerable moment.
I repeated it over and over in my head, trying to convince myself. But that indescribable feeling in my chest wouldn't go away.
The bathroom door swung open.
Roman walked out. No towel. Completely naked. Water droplets slid down his solid chest, tracing the lines of his abs, traveling lower.
He glanced at my stunned expression, utterly unbothered by his complete lack of covering, and strode toward the closet with perfect composure.
My breath caught. Images from last night crashed back—that same body pinned over mine, those hands roaming my skin.
I jerked my gaze away, face burning.
"You're up?" Roman's voice was as cold as usual, like that naked body was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"Yeah." I kept my eyes averted.
"I'm leaving for two days." His tone shifted back to business as usual. "Something I need to handle personally."
That's it?
No endearment, no checking if I was okay.
Like last night never happened.
"Got it." I threw back the covers and tried to get up, only to find my legs still shaky.
Damn it, how many times did he go last night?
Roman's gaze swept over me as I pounded my thighs in frustration. A hint of a smile finally crossed his face.
But he said nothing. Just buttoned his shirt, fastened his cuffs, and walked out without looking back.
The two days after Roman left, the estate felt hollow.
I kept telling myself I was better off without him around, but something felt missing. At meals, I'd catch myself glancing at his empty chair. At night, the bed felt too big, too empty.
I actually... missed him.
But maybe I was just bored.
The weather was nice today. Mira and I had planned to play hide and seek in the yard.
Sunlight streamed down, dew still clinging to the lawn. Mira ran through the garden like a happy little bird. I hadn't seen her this cheerful in a while.
"I'm ready! Count!" She ducked behind the fountain, peeking out with half her head showing.
I closed my eyes and counted loudly. In the darkness, I heard light footsteps scurrying away, running toward the old tree in the far corner of the garden.
I opened my eyes at ten. Sure enough, a familiar little dress hem stuck out from behind the tree.
I strolled over slowly, raising my voice playfully. "Where did my little lamb go? I'm coming to get you—"
The hem shrank back nervously. Feeling mischievous, I circled around, planning to sneak up from behind.
I crept closer. In the last few steps, I lunged forward.
But my foot slipped.
"Ah—"
I hit the wet grass hard before I could catch myself.
Sharp pain shot through my ankle, like needles drilling into bone. But I didn't cry out—my first instinct was to protect my stomach. Even though I was three months along and the doctor said everything was stable, I was terrified this fall might hurt the baby.
I cautiously assessed. No strange pain in my belly. I exhaled in relief. I tried to stand, but couldn't move. The slightest pressure sent agony through my ankle.
Just my luck—and it was the same leg from before.
"Ma'am!" A young guard rushed over and instinctively grabbed my waist and arm, carefully lifting me up. "Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?"
"I..." I tried moving my ankle and gasped. "I think I twisted it."
"I'll take you to the medical room right away." He spoke urgently, practically half-carrying me forward. "Ma'am, don't move. I've got you."
Just then, a small figure burst out from behind the tree.
Mira ran up to me, worry written across her face for the first time ever. Her eyes were red, like she was about to cry.
"Does it hurt?" she asked softly.
My heart melted instantly. Even the pain in my ankle dulled.
Because this was so precious to me.
"I'm fine, sweetheart." I pushed through the pain and gently touched her head. "Just twisted my ankle. Some medicine and I'll be good. Don't worry."
"Really?" Mira asked, uncertain.
"Yeah." I smiled at her. "See, I can still walk."
I tried standing to prove I was fine, but immediately regretted it—my body tilted, about to go down again.
The young guard caught me, this time holding me even tighter, practically pulling half my body against his chest for support.
"Ma'am, you can't do this. You'll fall harder." His voice was firm. "I'm carrying you to the medical room. It's not far."
I hurt too much to argue anymore. I reached out and gripped his arm.
"Let her go."
A cold voice cut through from the second floor.
I looked up. Roman stood on the landing above the lawn, facing a man in a suit—obviously discussing business. But his eyes were locked on me.
Seeing Roman after two days apart, I felt a rush of happiness and waved at him. But then I noticed something wrong.
His expression was terrifyingly cold.
"Sir—" The guard froze and instinctively released me.
I stumbled, nearly falling again.
"Fuck." Roman cursed under his breath, abruptly ending his call, and charged down the stairs.
Seconds later, he was in front of me.
"Sir, I'm sorry." The young guard's face went white. He bowed his head.
Roman ignored him, just swept his eyes over the man twice, sharp and cutting.
The next second, Roman bent down, one arm sliding under my knees, the other around my back, and scooped me up.
"I can walk!" I protested.
"I said shut up."
His voice carried suppressed fury. I saw his clenched jaw, the vein pulsing at his temple.
You know what, my instincts told me not to push him right now.
I gave in and looped my arms around his neck, letting him carry me toward the medical room. Behind us, I heard Mira's little footsteps running to keep up and the guards murmuring in low voices.
In the medical room, the estate's private doctor was already waiting.
Roman set me on the exam table, then stepped back, arms crossed, watching expressionlessly as the doctor examined my ankle.
"Fortunately, no bone damage." The doctor finished his assessment. "No harm to the baby either. Just a mild sprain. Apply some ointment, rest a few days, and you'll be fine."
I exhaled in relief.
The doctor picked up the ointment and reached for my sock.
"I'll do it," Roman spoke suddenly.
The doctor blinked.
"Sir?"
"I said, I'll do it." Roman stepped forward and snatched the ointment. "You can go."
The doctor glanced at his face, nodded wisely, and left quickly.
We were alone.
Roman knelt on one knee in front of me, gently placing my injured ankle on his thigh. His movements were surprisingly tender, like he was handling something fragile.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
"Not too bad," I said softly.
He said nothing more. Just opened the ointment, squeezed some onto his palm, and began massaging my ankle gently.
His hands were warm, his pressure perfect. I watched his lowered head, his focused expression, and suddenly my throat tightened.
"You're too careless," he said as he worked, a note of reproach in his voice. "You're pregnant. What if you'd hit your stomach when you fell?"
"I know..."
"Don't play dangerous games anymore." He looked up at me, eyes serious. "If something happens to you again, I'm canceling Mira's strawberry cake for a week."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"That's your threat?"
"It's effective." The corner of his mouth lifted in a barely visible smile.
My heart slammed hard.
No matter how much I lied to myself, no matter what noble excuses I used—
This wildly beating heart, the longing from these two days, already told me the truth.
I'd fallen for him. Hopelessly.
This man always showed up when I needed him most. Again and again, he turned me into someone I barely recognized.
Someone who blushed at his glance, who buried her face in his pillow, who surrendered at the smallest bit of his clumsy tenderness.
On impulse, I leaned forward and grabbed the hand applying the ointment.
"What do you want to say?" Roman caught my hand, his thumb stroking the back of it gently.
His eyes were intent, like he was waiting for something important.