Chapter 9 #2
"Tomorrow. We can start with the alphabet. It’s Cyrillic.” He puts a finger to his chin. “It’ll take some time. You’ll have to relearn how to write since our letters don’t look like English."
“Oh. Is it hard?”
Roman let out a low laugh. “I don’t know, I learned that in first grade. If you’ve never seen it before, then it might be hard.”
“It’ll take a long time, then.”
“Maybe. I’m not a teacher. Look, we just have to figure out the best way to do it, if you actually want to learn it.”
"I do. Plus, I have lots of time.”
"Yeah. You do."
Our gazes lock. Warmth spreads through me again, my skin tingling, muscles tight and aching for something I don’t fully understand. I want to move closer, close enough to touch him. To… kiss him?
"Anything else you want?"
I bite my lip. There’s definitely something. Something I know I shouldn’t ask for but it’s killing me inside not having this.
"I'd like to go outside again." The words come out quiet, almost a whisper. I’m not sure he heard it until I see his features immediately close up and all I get is silence.
My stomach fills with dread. "I know I can't,” I rush out.
“I know it's not safe. I'm not asking you to let me do anything. I only meant, someday. In the future, if it’s okay.” I try to calm my breathing.
“I just thought it would be nice to see the stars or feel the sun, if there’s ever any sunshine here. "
"There’s sunshine here,” he says, breaking the silence. “The summers can get warm."
"I wouldn't know."
He's quiet, looking at me with his jaw tight as if he’s trying to make up his mind or figure out what to do with me.
"Roman, forget what I said, okay?” I tell him, half pleading, wishing I’d never opened my mouth. “It was stupid. I shouldn't have asked."
"Summer won’t be here for a long time,” he continues, no trace of anger in his voice. “Sunshine’s out of it, but I’ll see what I can do about those stars.”
I gape at him. “You mean that?”
“Yeah. I mean it. I have to figure it out first, find a way to make it safe where no one will see you.”
I search his face, still in disbelief. "Why did you agree? Earlier you seemed mad at me.”
"I’m not angry. I’m agreeing to this because I’m trying not to treat you the way my father did.”
My stomach flutters again. “Does that mean you won’t ever hit me if I don’t see the right things in my readings?”
“It wouldn't make sense for me to hit you.”
“You won’t?”
“I won’t. Ever.”
The certainty in his voice makes my throat feel tight, like it’s hard to breathe. I nod, not trusting myself to talk. My fingers dig into the mattress, steadying myself, keeping me from getting up and going to him.
I wonder if he feels it too, this pull, the need to close the space between us, be as close as possible. It’s hard to tell with Roman. He’s too good at hiding his emotions.
“I have to leave,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few hours before the meeting.”
"Okay."
He leaves the room without looking back. I’m alone again, sitting on the bed, my heart racing. I reach for the section of hair I still need to braid, but my hand slips, my entire body feels jittery. I draw in a deep breath, starting over twice before I get it right.
Afterward, I slip on a bra, put the hoodie back on and go into the living room to read for a while.
I can’t concentrate so I set the book aside, pulling my knees to my chest. Thoughts that I try so hard to keep at bay, run unfiltered through my mind.
Reading is a distraction, but it only reminds me of the world that keeps moving each and every day without me.
The fact that I don’t fully exist in it.
I’m only eighteen yet it feels like my life is already over.
I’ll never know what it’s like to be a part of a family again.
I’ll always be locked away somewhere, waiting for Roman to come back.
I wish so badly I could hate him for making decisions about my life, allowing me to exist on his terms. What’s worse is, I’m just as bad as he is because I understand his logic.
I get why he’s keeping me for himself, Roman wouldn’t be who he is if he let me go. I accept that.
The sick truth is, if I could walk away right now, if the door was unlocked and I didn’t have to worry about Grigori finding me, I’d still want to see Roman again. I’d want to know he was okay. Hear the sound of his voice and be near him.
I press my face into my knees, eyes squeezed shut. Something has to be wrong with me.
It’s not normal to care about a man who does horrible things.
I don’t know everything Roman’s done, but I know his hands are as bloody as his father’s.
That it doesn’t bother me, tells me everything I need to know.
Somewhere along the line, something cracked inside of me.
Whether it was meant to happen or not, I don’t know.
Later that afternoon, Roman returns carrying two large shopping bags in each hand.
"I got the clothes you wanted.” He sets them on the floor.
“That’s a lot.”
“I had to guess your size.” He shrugs off his jacket, heading to his room. “Toss whatever doesn’t fit into an empty bag.”
“I’m going to try them on.”
I take the bags into the bedroom, dumping the first one on the bed.
Like the chocolate, Roman bought a bunch of different styles and different sizes of clothes, some I was even too afraid to ask for.
I step out of my sweatpants, trying on a mix of styles.
Thankfully, most of them fit. I fold everything neatly in the dresser, keeping on a pair of black leggings and a cream sweater.
Back in the living room, Roman is at the far end with his back facing me. His hair looks darker, damp and tousled, like he just showered. He’s wearing a black suit.
He turns at the sound of my footsteps, his gaze moves over me, taking in the new clothes.
“Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The briefest hint of a smile touches his lips before his features close up. I swallow hard, moving closer to him, stopping when I notice the gun under his jacket.
"Can you bring that in the meeting?” I point to his waist.
He lets out a soft laugh. “No. Not even my father is that stupid. All weapons get checked at the door.”
“That can’t be good.”
“No. It’s not.” He flicks his hand in the air.
“It’s protocol. The Pakhan is never alone without his guards nearby.
That’s what makes killing him difficult.
If I do it, I’m dead within seconds. If I somehow manage to kill him and survive—without punishment—it still doesn’t make a difference. Not unless the organization backs me.”
His gaze sharpens, a thin smile appears. “You’ve done that, Nala. You gave me my allies.”
“It won’t matter if you don’t come back.”
“I will.”
“I hope so.” My voice softens. “I need you to teach me all that stuff you said you would.”
He raises a brow. “You need me alive to teach you the alphabet?”
“Yes. You also have to take me outside like you promised.”
“I didn't promise.”
I lift a shoulder. "You said you would. It’s the same thing, kind of.”
He presses a finger to his lip, studying me for a few seconds. “Let’s say I have to break this promise. For whatever reason I can’t come back.”
“Don’t—”
He raises a finger, cutting me off. "Listen to me.” He waits until I’m looking at him. “You’ll go into my room. There’s a small table by the bed. You’re going to look inside the drawer. There’s a burner phone and a piece of paper with a number on it. You’ll call that number and ask for Lev.”
Nausea settles in the pit of my stomach.
“He doesn’t know about you,” Roman continues. “But you can trust him. This only works if you read the note in the drawer to him. Then, he’ll help you.”
I don’t want to have to call this Lev person or enter Roman’s room without him being there. All I want is to shake my head and pretend this isn’t real, that this can’t happen.
I nod anyway.
“Good.” He gives me one last look, turns and leaves.
The door shuts and I’m alone. Again. This time I don’t think about the world I don’t fully exist in. I think about the one I’ll have to live in, where there’s no Roman Ivanov walking through that door.