Page 36 of Unstable

He was such a jerk.

She glared at him. “Believe it or not, most people actually like me.”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one,” he snapped. “Your personality is as fake as those tits.”

Cold washed over her, and she could practically feel the blood drain from her face. He may as well have reached out and slapped her. Of all the things he could’ve said to her, that was the worst. She directed her gaze over his shoulder as silence fell like a lead curtain around them. Tears burned the back of her throat, and she bit her tongue to keep them from rising higher and spilling from her eyes.

She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, using the bite of physical pain to distract herself from his hurtful words. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing his words had impacted her, that they’d cut deeper than a knife.

Swallowing down the emotion that had risen in her throat, she fell back a step, then turned to leave. She almost hoped that Roman would stop her, but he didn’t. All the fight left her as her heart cracked wide open.

In the span of only a few seconds, Roman had solidified exactly where they stood. He didn’t care about her at all. Though she had continued to hope that maybe he was just holding back, she knew in that moment she was wrong. It hurt more than she wanted to admit, and she was furious with herself for allowing a man to dictate her happiness and self-worth.

Bypassing the bathroom completely, she headed straight for the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. As soon as the darkness enveloped her, the tears came, falling hard and fast. She fought to control her breathing as her lungs heaved and her chest constricted.

This whole thing had been a huge mistake. She had no idea how they were going to keep this farce going when he obviously hated her so much. She climbed into bed and hugged her pillow close, pouring every ounce of despair into the cotton fabric.

The remaining slivers of her heart shattered with each sob that racked her body. He made her feel horrible, insignificant. Worst of all, he’d just validated every negative thought she’d ever had about herself. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she really was as awful as he said she was.

Roman was about as brutally honest as a person could get, and if nothing else, she could always count on him to speak the truth… And the truth hurt.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Roman felt a sick sense of dread curdle in his gut as he watched her stiffen and turn slowly toward the bedroom. He dropped his feet to the floor, ready to stand and stop her—beg her forgiveness. The second he leaned forward, though, he caught himself.

He couldn’t go after her—not like this. He felt awful for hurting her feelings, but what was he going to do? The reminder of every word he’d said tasted like acid on his tongue, and he longed to pull her to him, tell her he hadn’t meant any of it.

He wanted to… but he couldn’t.

Aside from that, a huge part of him was still pissed at himself for what had happened back home. Her words hit him hard because he blamed himself for not noticing someone had tampered with her brake lines. It was no consolation that they couldn’t pin down an exact time, but he hadn’t forgiven himself, and apparently, neither had she. If it was… she was right. She deserved someone better.

For the past few days, ever since that morning out on the patio, he’d done his best to ignore her. He’d pushed her away, unable to stand being in her company for more than a few minutes—and not because he disliked her. Each time she was near, he felt the overwhelming urge to pull her close and lose himself in a kiss that he knew would change his life irrevocably forever.

He’d shot down every opportunity to leave the house, telling her that they needed to keep her out of the public’s eye. But that was only half of the story. The truth was, he was terrified. Going out, even for a walk on the beach, would force him to interact with her, and if they ran into someone who was interested in talking, they’d have to act like they were married.

The last thing he wanted was a replay of the scene in the airport when she’d slipped her hand into his. Her skin had been so soft, so perfect, he couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of her felt. It called to mind the night in the shower when she’d been pressed against him from chest to thighs, and he nearly broke into a sweat at the thought.

He craved her like he’d never wanted anything else in his life. Though she’d thrown herself at him that night, she’d been drunk—possibly drugged—and out of her mind. He refused to make a fool of himself by laying a move on her and being turned down. It wasn’t the possibility of rejection that stopped him, but everything else. Her safety, as well as his job, was at stake here, and he couldn’t risk it.

He sank back against the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d made a huge mess of things, and he had no idea how to fix it. Maybe things were beyond repair.

Guilt pressed in on him, rendering him motionless. He didn’t know how long he sat there staring blindly at the TV before he finally turned it off and stood. He had to at least apologize.

He did a quick once-over of the small bungalow, then used the bathroom and headed to bed. The room was completely dark when he entered, though that was no surprise. She probably needed the privacy of the dark after everything that had happened. What he’d said was horrible and completely uncalled for, that was a given.

But he couldn’t figure out her reaction. The Irina he’d come to know over the past couple of weeks had a backbone of steel, a sharp retort at the ready. But not today. Instead of fighting back like normal, she’d turned and fled. That alone told him how badly he’d hurt her, and the knowledge made him feel sick to his stomach.

He couldn’t shake off the way she’d looked at him the moment those words left his throat. Her eyes were like an open book—he’d read everything in the blue depths from “you’re an idiot” to “you’re right, but I don’t want to admit it.”

This time, though, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. They’d been completely devoid of emotion as if he’d reached into her chest and ripped out her heart. He literally watched the walls go back up over her expressive eyes, the vibrant sparkle leaching away as she shut down and pushed him away.

What made everything worse, though, was the amount of trust she’d placed in him. She was so certain that he would protect her, keep her safe, and the thought was both bolstering and daunting. It was hard to fathom having that kind of faith in someone.

Silently, he closed the door behind him, then crept toward the bed. Not wanting to scare her, he dropped to one knee next to the mattress. A silvery shaft of moonlight spilled through the sliding doors and over the bed, illuminating her pretty face. What he saw there made his heart clench. A trail of dried tears was visible over the curve of her cheek, and he hated himself for putting them there.

He stretched one hand toward her then halted, frozen in midair. Helplessly, he let it drop to his side. He’d done this to her. God, he was such a jerk. Heaving a sigh, he pushed to his feet. Making his way to the foot of the bed, he collapsed onto the pile of blankets and lay back, staring at the ceiling.