Chapter 30 #2
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile, but the pull of his wound turned it into a quiet grunt.
"You can't lock me up anymore," I said softly.
"Won't lock you up."
"You can't use cameras to spy on me."
"All right. No more spying."
"You can't hide anything from me."
"Won't hide anything."
"You promise?"
"I promise. Roman Volkov keeps his word."
I raised my head to look at him, my nose stinging. His tone still carried that familiar, unquestionable certainty, but his eyes were full of tenderness.
I traced my fingertip lightly along the edge of the scrape on his cheekbone. He tilted his head slightly, nuzzling his face into my palm.
"You can't scare me like this again," I said hoarsely.
"What are you willing to pay? I wouldn't mind another kid." Roman raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with unabashed suggestion.
Even now, he had the energy for wisecracks. I swatted disapprovingly at the hand resting on mine.
"Ow."
Roman suddenly groaned, his other hand clutching his chest, eyebrows knitted tightly together, the color draining from his face again.
My heart leaped into my throat. I lunged forward, hands frantically searching his chest, trying to see if his wound had torn open, if the stitches had burst.
"What's wrong? Where does it hurt? I'll get the doctor!"
My hand had just touched the collar of his hospital gown when the hand clutching his chest suddenly released and shot out like lightning, gripping the back of my head and pulling me down.
His lips sealed off all my unfinished words.
My brain blanked for two full seconds. By the time I processed what was happening, his lips were already pressed against mine, his tongue invading forcefully.
I pushed hard against his shoulder, breaking free.
"You're injured. You've lost your mind."
"This kiss has been interrupted twice already. Whatever needs saying can wait until after." He spoke against my lips, his breath hot and ticklish on my face.
His fingers tightened, pressing my face down again. This time I didn't struggle. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into his kiss that tasted of rust and medicine.
Fine. Let him have this. He'd already made so much effort. In this condition, I couldn't bear to refuse him again.
The door suddenly swung open.
Nick walked in first, Harper behind him. Harper caught sight of our flustered state and let out a sharp whistle.
"Whoa. Hospital gown roleplay. You two sure know how to pick your moments."
Heat flooded my face. I quickly moved away from Roman's bed, scooting to the side. Roman's expression didn't change, though his pale face showed the slightest narrowing of eyes as he glanced toward Harper.
Nick cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. First time I'd seen Nick wear that expression. This stone-cold enforcer actually had red-tipped ears.
He pulled out a deep blue velvet box from behind his back.
"This is the first time in eight years I've violated your rules. But I think you two need this now."
With that, Nick stepped back, pulling Harper—who still looked like she wanted to say something—out of the room with him. He closed the door behind them.
The mood from moments ago shattered completely. Only the smell of disinfectant and the steady beeping of the heart monitor remained. I sat in the chair beside the bed, one fist's width away from Roman, neither of us knowing who should speak first.
My gaze had nowhere to land. Finally it settled on that deep blue velvet box on the bedside table.
I reached out, picked up the box, turned it over in my hands, and held it out to Roman.
"What is this?"
Roman took the box, steadying it with trembling fingertips—trembling from blood loss. He placed it on his chest, then turned his head to look at me.
"I was planning to find some fancy setting. At least wine and candlelight. Get down on one knee."
A bitter smile tugged at his mouth.
"But in my current state, if I get down on one knee, I probably won't get back up."
My heartbeat suddenly accelerated.
Roman opened the lid. Inside was an exquisite ring. A white gold band set with a modest diamond—no complicated patterns, no flashy design.
Very much his aesthetic.
"I should give Nick a raise," Roman said softly.
"This setting's pretty bare-bones. I've got tubes sticking out of me. Probably not the proposal you imagined."
Roman's eyes lifted to meet mine.
"But I don't want to wait anymore. Marry me, Leah. Let me spend the rest of my time learning to be the man you deserve."
I looked at that ring. Looked at his pale face. Looked at that almost pleading tenderness in his eyes.
He'd just come off the operating table, just been dragged back from death's door. The stitches in his abdomen were probably still seeping blood. And here he was, pulling out a ring and asking me to marry him.
How terrified was this man that I'd run away?
I reached out and took the ring from the velvet box.
"You know what, Roman Volkov?"
My voice shook, but I couldn't stop the corners of my mouth from lifting.
"Your proposal is as much of a mess as you are. No wine, no candlelight. I'm covered in your blood. This place reeks of disinfectant. It's not romantic at all."
I slipped the ring onto my finger. Perfect fit. I didn't know when he'd measured it. Probably through those damn surveillance methods again. But right now, I had no interest in pursuing that.
"But yes."
I leaned down and kissed his cracked lips.
Roman's fingers threaded through my disheveled hair, stopping at the back of my head, using what little strength he had to press me closer.
Nothing could be more romantic than this, I thought.