Page 69 of The Marriage

Quieter, he added, “And the world was the one that did this to you, Karine, so fuck them, anyway. I don’t care about anybody but you. It’s me and you first, babe, from here on out.”

He kissed away the tears that spilled to her cheeks, whipping away what wetness remained with his thumbs right after. Giving him a rueful smile, she latched onto his thumb and sucked the taste of her tears away.

God, he loved this woman.

“You should go,” she whispered, her fingertips tapping the underside of his jaw. “Give my love to Claire. And if you find Masha, tell her ... tell her I am okay. I’ll be back soon, but right now, I’m okay. Give her at least the benefit of the doubt, Roman.”

He stared hard at her, not wanting to make that promise.

“Please?” she asked.

“Karine—”

“Please.”

“Depends on what happens. That’s the best I can promise.”

“Fair enough. I love you, Roman.”

He didn’t want to leave her, as he kept picturing waking up the next morning without Karine in his bed. Here, in this sterile, lonely bedroom, she would wake up doing the same for him. From his pocket, he pulled out his wedding ring which he hadn’t started wearing in public yet.

Karine’s eyes brightened when he slipped it on with a smile.

“I’m done looking because I’ve already found everything,” he said. “Everyone should know.”

*

Nobody seemed happy when Roman arrived back in New York. Not that he expected them to be considering he’d done exactly what he was told not to.

His father demanded his presence the second Demyan knew Roman’s feet were on home soil, and he drove over there to find Marky already waiting on the steps of the house.

He offered Roman a smoke first thing.

“We need to talk,” Roman said to his friend, refusing a smoke he badly needed.

“Yeah, I know.”

He grabbed him by his arm, yanking Marky towards himself. The two men stared hard at one another before Roman said, “Listen, I know I’m a fuck up and an asshole sometimes, but I appreciate—”

Marky nodded once, shrugging Roman’s hand off his arm before he could even finish. “All’s good, man. A sorry suffices sometimes, shit. That’s all.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

That seemed to be good enough for his friend, and after another quiet pause, Roman walked into the house alone.

Bulls milled about the grand staircase and outside his father’s office where he found Demyan waiting for him. Two of the men slipped in, one was his father’s spy who moved to the corner of Demyan’s desk to look through a file he passed over to the man.

It was his father’s disappointed eye turning on him that made Roman tense a bit on the spot. Standing just beyond the doorway, he noticed that with his mother absent from the room, the cigars filled the ashtrays and smoke still clung to the air.

“Do you have any idea where this woman could have gone to?” Demyan asked.

Roman bristled—he never did well with that tone his father liked to use. He’d been trying to get past the constant need to snap back at every comment Demyan made, but habits were hard to break. “Don’t you think I would have dragged her ass back here already if I knew where she went?”

“Thin ice here, son, you’re skating on it. Don’t get smart with me, huh? How do you propose we find her? She was part of your package of responsibilities, so to spe—”

“Fuck off, don’t call Karine that.”

“Roman!”