28. Lavinia
TWENTY-EIGHT
LAVINIA
The woman standing in Roman’s kitchen appears to be in her sixties and she’s watching us with a mix of confusion and horror. Has she been in the apartment the whole time? See, this is why announcing myself is important.
“Roman, why aren’t you wearing any clothes ?” She sounds so scandalized it takes everything in me not to giggle.
Roman blushes, his head dipping down. He’s only wearing sweats.
“Kita! I just got out of the shower. This is Lavinia.” Putting a hand at my lower back, Roman ushers me forward. “Lavinia, this is my neighbor, Kita.”
This must be the neighbor teaching him Polish.
My fingers are freezing and I put the ice pack on the counter.
I smile at Kita because what else am I supposed to do with Roman’s neighbor who walks into his apartment without knocking?
I realize I’ve learned more about Roman by coming here than by anything he’s told me.
“Hi, I’m Lavinia, obviously.” I give her an awkward wave and she continues to watch me suspiciously. She has short, dark hair that has gray in it now, and lively brown eyes that appear to reflect a life lived to the fullest.
“You’re the girl Roman married,” Kita accuses. She’s about half my size.
“Yep, that’s me.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.
Kita crosses her arms and comes closer, looking me up and down. “What do you do?”
“I host a podcast with my best friend,” I reply. “I’m also a content creator.”
“Do you make any money from it or is it a hobby?”
“Kita, you don’t need to interrogate Lavinia,” Roman says. He shifts so he’s slightly in front of me, as if he’s defending me from this sweet old lady.
Salem brushes past our legs and Kita gets a big smile on her face, bending down to pick him up.
“Hello, my precious angel baby,” she coos, kissing his head. “I missed you so much.”
I’m so sorry , Roman mouths to me.
I shake my head because Kita’s interrogation doesn’t bother me. If anything, I like that Roman has someone who’s as protective over him as my family is over me. Which makes me wonder, do his parents know about me?
“I came to get my baking dish,” Kita says, looking between Roman and me.
“Sure, let me get it.” He opens a kitchen cabinet and grabs the dish. Salem jumps down from Kita’s arms and Kita takes the dish from Roman.
“I will…see you later.” Again, Kita looks at me meaningfully. “Kiss my babies for me.”
Roman walks her to the door and I hear them whisper back and forth before the door closes. The lock turns and Roman is back in the kitchen. I’m leaning a hip against the counter, my arms crossed as I try to contain my smile.
“She hates me.”
Roman gives me a confused look. “You’re happy she hates you?”
“In this context, yes. Kita doesn’t like me because she’s protective of you.”
Roman chuckles lightly, shaking his head. “No, she’s protective of the cats and they live with me. She sees them as her children.
I know I’m right, even if he doesn’t want to believe me. Kita’s not here interrogating me because she’s worried I’m going to hurt the cats. I want Roman to believe that, and I want him to believe that he’s worth worrying about. I’m going to argue with him, but something he said stops me.
“Cats, plural?” I ask. Because one is surprising enough. Somehow this man has more than one cat and a nosy neighbor? Who is he?
I get my answer when a machine whirs and deposits cat food into three little bowls.
I look at the food dispenser and almost as if they poofed into existence, two more cats join Salem for dinner.
One of them pushes its face into the other’s dinner and Roman crouches down, lifting the cat and turning it back to its food.
“This is your food. Don’t steal your sister’s.”
The cat yowls and kicks back at Roman. “Excuse me, young lady. What kind of language is that? I’ve raised you better than this.”
I’m melting. I’m actually turning into a pile of goo, and my soul is leaving my body. How is it possible that the man everyone calls The Brutalizer is actually so adorable? If everyone knows this side of him, he wouldn’t need me to help bridge the gap between him and the team.
Roman straightens after making sure each cat is eating from their own bowl and turns to face me. I don’t think I’m hiding my feelings as well as I think I am because he jerks back a little. “What’s that look on your face?”
“This is the greatest day of my life.”
“You do remember winning Olympic medals, don’t you?”
“That’s completely different, and those were also great days. I can have more than one greatest day, Roman.”
“That is literally not how that works. By its very meaning, the word surpasses all other great days in your life,” Roman argues. He moves closer and picks up the ice pack, putting it back in the freezer and then wiping the condensation off the counter.
“Clearly, you’re applying too much logic here.
Greatest days are not based on the literal meaning of the event or word.
They’re based on feelings and emotions. Winning an Olympic gold medal after working my ass off?
The greatest day of my life, for sure. Finding out my temporary husband is a secret, soft good boy? Also, the greatest day of my life.”
Roman stops and turns to look at me, his eyes sharp. “That’s false propaganda! No one is going to believe you.”
I can barely contain my smile. “Maybe.” Turning, I walk towards the other end of the island, where the chairs are, and then double back. “Then again, maybe my reputation as a person who’s always nice and kind will make people believe me.”
Roman’s also circling the island, following me.
There’s a predatory gleam in his eyes as he chases me.
Shivers run down my spine as I continue to walk backwards, away from him.
There’s a part of me that thinks giving into Roman will be a mistake.
That there might come a day when I’ll slip and fall, and he won’t be there to catch me because he never signed up for it.
The other part of me wants to say, “fuck it”, and jump. Because who cares if Roman isin’t there to catch me. I’m a big girl. I can enjoy the fall and land on my own two feet.
“You would use your powers for evil?” Roman asks.
My laugh sounds like a cackle. “What good is power if you only use it for good? Besides, being good all the time is boring and I’m trying not to be boring, remember?”
“Blossom, I had no idea you had it in you.”
He’s still chasing me, and I’m still walking backwards away from him.
Either I’m slowing down or he’s speeding up because the distance between us is getting shorter.
Roman’s an arm’s width away. My heart races as if I’ve been running miles when I’m not even exerting myself.
It’s the thrill of what’ll happen if he comes closer.
“Neither did I, actually. But then I imagined the looks on the boys faces when they find out how much of a good boy you are, and I can’t resist being bad.”
Roman reaches for me and I take two hurried steps back, out of his reach. “Oh, it’s not going to be that easy.”
I take another step back and stumble as my leg hits something soft. Roman’s there to steady me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. His body is hard against mine, and I expect it because as a former athlete myself, I know how hard he works on it.
Also, I’ve literally seen him half naked and I thank the universe for that glorious image because it’s burned permanently in my brain. Taking a breath, I try to get my bearings and I’m immediately surrounded by his scent. I’m convinced he smells better than any man ever has.
Those whiskey-colored eyes glimmer down at me as he smirks. Somehow, the bruise on the corner of his mouth makes him even more handsome, almost lethal. The kind of bad decision you make while drunk and can’t stop thinking about because it’s the most alive you’ve felt in years.
Oh, wait.
“You were saying something about this not being easy?”
“You cheated,” I exclaim. “It’s four against one.”
“Sabrina was probably bored,” Roman says. “Trust me, there’s no way she wanted to willingly help.”
“Salem and Sabrina. What’s the last one?”
His grin widens. “Buffy.”
I’m delighted. “I love it! Do you remember that one October we watched all of Buffy The Vampire Slayer? I had nightmares every night for a month and watched nothing but Christmas movies for two months after.”
I think we were eleven years old, and we used to huddle together in my parents' media room.
Drew was never interested in any kind of horror or paranormal shows, so he was either playing video games or practicing hockey.
It was me and Roman, surrounded by a pillow and blanket fort with a giant bowl of popcorn.
Roman’s smile slowly drops, and his eyes shift over my face, as if trying to memorize every feature. “I remember, Blossom.”
My heart rate escalates once again. Am I being delusional here or do I need to learn to trust my instincts? Which is a lot harder than it sounds when my instincts have literally led to me being dumped repeatedly.
Roman’s hand is inside my sweatshirt, his fingers skating over my waist. I twist away from him as goosebumps pebble my skin.
His fingers are gentle, almost like the wings of a butterfly.
His head is tilted towards me, and I realize that he’s waiting for permission.
I want to kiss him more than I want my next breath.
A loud banging on the door has us both turning our heads towards the entrance and Roman pulls me closer. “It’s an axe murderer.”
“An axe murderer wouldn’t knock,” I say.
“No one knocks on my door.”
“What about Kita?”
“I never lock the door if I’m home. She comes and goes as she pleases.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug.
My jaw drops open. “And you think an axe murderer will knock ?”
Roman looks down at me, his brows drawn down into a v. “Wait, how did you get up here? Front desk is supposed to call if I have visitors.”