"No mustard, no dill on the meat, no ice in his water," Sorin says, ticking each one off with a tap of her spoon against the pot. These women know so much about him, it's like they're his sisters. I wonder if they can tell me why he's still single. I mean,the man treats his body like a temple and dresses impeccably. If I didn't know better, I'd think he wasn't into women or dating.
"What about women?" I ask, and Rebecca's eyebrows go up and Sorin turns from the stove with the spoon dripping onto the floor. The typical gossip about his good looks and charm has never brought up the conversation about why he isn't married. I'm curious.
"What about them?" Rebecca says, and there's a grin starting at the corners of her mouth.
"Does he bring anyone home?" I say nonchalantly, but I can already feel the sense of judgment creeping in. I'm not old enough to even think of dating a man Roman's age, let alone be seriously interested in a relationship. I know that. At least, in my logical mind, I know that.
But that hasn't stopped me from having sex with him twice now or sleeping in his bed, which I'm not sure was a good idea. I don't know what his house staff knows. Yegor walked me right to his bedroom door. Who knows if the man stood outside while I made enough noise to wake the neighborhood?
Rebecca and Sorin look at each other, and Rebecca shakes her head and turns back to her dough. "I've been in this house nine years and I can count on one hand the number of times a woman has stayed the night. He just doesn't date." There is a silence that passes between them for a few seconds, and I feel my composure cracking. My cheeks burn as I stack the final few layers of sandwich together and drop a pile of chips next to it.
"He's married to this house and those fights," Sorin says, turning back to her pot. "That's his whole life."
"He's a good-looking man, though," Rebecca says, and she points her rolling pin at me the way she did to Sorin earlier. "You can see that, can't you? Those eyes. And the arms on him when he comes out of that gym in the morning."
"I've noticed," I say, blushing more, and Rebecca laughs, but it feels good to smile in a kitchen with people who aren't trying to rank me or remind me where I stand. These women have made room for me at this counter, and I fit here, despite being much younger than both of them.
I arrange the tray with his coffee on the left side and the water glass on the right. Then I carry the tray down the hallway to his study and knock before I push the door open with my hip. Roman's at his desk with his phone pressed to his ear and his free hand relaxed on the surface. He doesn't look up when I come in, so I set the tray on the corner of the desk and step back and wait.
"I don't care what they told the police," he says into the phone. "I care that two of my fighters are sitting in a cell three weeks before a card and I'm down two bouts with no replacements." He listens, and the hand on the desk curls into a fist. "Get them a lawyer and get them out, and tell them if they get into another street fight, I'll put them in the ring myself and they won't enjoy it."
He ends the call and sets the phone down and sits back and scrubs both hands over his face, dragging them down slowly until his fingers catch on his jaw and drop to his lap.
"Two fighters arrested," he grumbles as his eyes close. I'm not sure what all of that means, but I can see from his reaction that he thinks it's not good. Something inside my chest deflates a little seeing him like that. I want to fix it, but I don't know thefirst thing about how he runs that side of things. I just track his schedule.
"Can you replace them?"
"Not on short notice. Not with anyone worth watching, anyway." He pulls the tray toward him and picks up the coffee and drinks from it with his eyes closed, and when he sets it down, he looks up at me. "Thank you for lunch… you can go now."
But I don't leave. I stand there waiting for him to take a bite and chew carefully. When Papa would feel stressed, I'd get him a glass of his favorite vodka and one of his Cohiba cigars and his cutter. But I don't know how to help Roman relax. I'm still learning his ways, like the fact that he doesn’t bring women home to this place.
"You spar every morning with your partner in the gym," I tell him as an idea gathers in the corner of my mind. "You could do the fighting yourself."
He swallows and looks up at me, and his sandwich hovers in the air ready to drip mayo on the plate beneath it. His eyes narrow, the cerulean gaze sparkling as he meets my eyes.
"You watch me spar?"
"I mean, no… but I hear you every morning." Now I feel foolish having this information. Yes, I've watched him walk out of his home gym to his bedroom, but no, I haven't actually watched him fight. For all I know, he could be a horrible fighter, though Rebecca and Sorin seem to think he used to fight for his father's club back in the day.
He holds my gaze for a few seconds and then looks back down at his tray and takes another bite before setting his sandwichdown. I stand there hovering over him feeling my cheeks still burning, but my eagerness to help him might've just gotten me another smack. I know how much he hates me eavesdropping and snooping.
"You know, that's not a terrible idea," he says, then reaches for his water to wash down his bite of food.
Pride swells in my chest for having alleviated even a smidgen of his stress, and I figure my work here is done. Besides, I have some cleaning to take care of in my own bedroom before Roman tasks me with some busy work, which he always does. I turn toward the door as he continues eating and decide that in this instance, my nosiness has helped.
"I'll come back for the tray," I say over my shoulder, then I breeze out the door into the hallway before he can call me back.
I'm smiling and halfway down the hall when the bell rings at the front of the house. My hunger to know what's going on in this house gets the better of me, and I stop near the staircase to listen as Yegor's footsteps cross the foyer and the front door opens.
"Yegor, you look wonderful as always." Sabine's voice is warm and bright and polished. Though she's younger than her sister, she's always acted more responsibly and more mature too. "Is Roman available? I was hoping to speak with him."
Yegor's response is too low to hear, but the door opens wider and Sabine's heels click across the foyer tiles. I press my back against the wall near the staircase and stay where I am knowing better than to get in the middle of that. But it instantly soils my good mood.
I didn't realize Sabine was going to show up. After nearly six weeks here, Vera is still trying to force her daughters downRoman's throat, and nothing I say or do can warn him off. I press my eyes closed and listen as Yegor leads her right to the study where he's eating his lunch, and I can't help myself. My feet start drifting in that direction. It's painful watching them parade around in front of him when I'm right here.
My feelings have gotten all jumbled up now. I am the one cleaning up after him, cooking his food, waiting on him hand and foot. And I'm the one who climbs into his bed to satisfy his sexual urges now, more than once. Why is he still even considering marrying them? It frustrates me, and the jealousy is too strong for me to push it away this time.
As soon as Yegor walks away from the door, I tiptoe up and press my ear to the wood to listen.
