AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I should stay quiet, enjoy my brownie, and watch him make the fucking soup, but I find myself asking, “You own a nightclub, a casino, two hotels and you have nowhere to go in the evenings?”
He pauses, mid-stir. “I ruined the only social life I ever needed, and I’ll do anything to get it back.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I wash it down with a mouthful of tea. Roman doesn’t get to come here, looking so handsome and vulnerable and apologetic. This is just another of his ploys to bring me under his control.
He tips the canned beans and tomatoes into the soup, adds a few more ingredients, and stirs. My eyes narrow. Does he really mean to make me believe he’s spent the past six months with his housekeeper, learning how to cook?
He turns down the heat, leaving the soup to simmer. After wiping his hands, he walks to the other side of the living room and opens the box.
As he extracts the flat-packed pieces of wood, I sit up and frown. “The wood is unfinished.”
Roman’s eyes meet mine. “That way, you can paint it however you want. Do you remember all those mushrooms you found among the juniper trees?”
My eyes sting at the reminder of the joy I felt committing the plants and fungi around his estate to canvas. “What makes you think I can still paint?”
His face falls.
“I haven’t touched a brush since realizing my dream art career was built on deceit.”
“The sales were fake, but your talent is real.”
“There’s no need to keep up the pretense,” I say with a sigh. “I’m happy nurturing the next generation of artists.”
“Sorry isn’t enough.”
“What for?”
He bows his head. “I should have been building you up, but I was so blinded by revenge that I destroyed your confidence.”
“Are you just saying what I want to hear?” I ask, my voice thickening.
“No,” he rasps. “I knew I was digging a hole for myself with my lies, but being with you was so addictive I just couldn’t stop.”
I should stop speaking, look away, and wait for him to leave. As soon as he’s gone, I can pack up some essentials and disappear. It’s a sensible plan, yet I find myself saying, “Don’t forget you had to keep digging to keep me signing those contracts.”
Roman lays out the instructions, picks up two wooden pieces and clicks them into place. Silence stretches out, broken only by the bubbling of the minestrone soup. After completing the crib’s base, he raises his head to meet my gaze.
The agony etched into his eyes makes me flinch.
“I have never loved anyone the way I love you. Never wanted anything so desperately that I’d risk everything to get it. I want to make up for the pain I caused, but everything I say or do seems to make it worse.”
“You paid for the food boxes, didn’t you?”
Nodding, he picks up a wooden slat. “I had to make sure you were eating right.”
I run a hand through my curls. “How did you even know where to deliver it?”
Roman’s features tighten. He slips the slat into place, his eyes focused on the crib.
I wait for him to answer, but he picks up another slat.
“Did you arrange the apartment?” I ask.
He remains silent.
“What about the perfect job with free medical care?”
He slips the second slat into place and then a third.
