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I slam my fist down on the countertop, and snarl, “I don’t need your goddamn help.”
Then I storm out of the bathroom, out of her bedroom and into mine, where I slam the door closed. Bracing my back against the solid wood, I close my eyes.
How can she possibly see so easily into my soul?
CHAPTER19
Sophia
Icurse myself for always being so blunt with Roman. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Every time he’s around I speak my mind, as if I have no filter at all. I’ve never been this careless with my words before. He just makes me so angry.
Angry, confused, and passionate in my need to help him.
I’m determined to break through his barriers, and terrified of what I’ll find on the other side. He’s so closed off, sohurt, his emotions are like a festering wound. If he doesn’t ease the pressure, one day he’s going to explode and destroy his entire life. It’s going to kill him.
Who hurt him so badly? Since he refuses to speak of his wife, I assume it’s her. Though he could simply be mourning her loss. I don’t know because he won’t tell me anything.
It’s so frustrating.He’sfrustrating.
Even so, I realize that I shouldn’t push him to the edge every time. He’s allowed to keep his relationship with his late wife private. It’s none of my business. I’m simply concerned. I’ve poked around every inch of this giant house and there’s not a single trace of her. No photos, no mementos, nothing to clue me into her past existence at all.
It’s chilling.
I have no idea who she was. It’s like she never existed. Her memory has been wiped from every surface. Perhaps Roman loved her so much that he can’t bear to be reminded of her even in the smallest way.
My skin prickles with jealousy. I know Roman once had a heart, I saw that in those old photos of him in his childhood home. Maybe he gave it to her and that’s why there’s nothing left for me. It’s not that he doesn’t want to develop feelings for me, it’s that he can’t. He has nothing left to give.
I calm down in my room, feeling twice as guilty about riling up and driving Roman away when I spot the dinner plate piled high with a massive side of my favorite breadsticks. He brought me a peace offering and I ruined it with my big mouth.
Apparently too much honesty can backfire. Everything I told him is true, about my feelings of inadequacy and what I think of him. Was I too harsh? Did I overstep?
My intention is not to hurt him. Quite the opposite, I want to help him. But I don’t know how.
I mull that over.
The least I can do is apologize.
With my mind made up, I slip out of my room and across the hallway to his door, where I knock twice. No answer. He could be in his office downstairs, but before deciding to search for him, I knock again, and then try the handle. It turns easily in my hand and the door swings open to reveal a dark, quiet room.
Even so, I swear I can sense his presence within. It dominates the space, refusing to be ignored, and draws me in like a moth to a flame.
“Roman?” I whisper into the dark. “Are you awake?”
My question is met with silence. The darkness is so thick that I can barely make out the placement of the furniture. Though I’ve been in his room once before and generally remember his bed’s location.
“Roman?” A floorboard creaks beneath my footstep, and the brief rustle of bedsheets is the only warning I have before a hand clamps over my mouth and a gun barrel’s cold metal presses against my temple.
I hold my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. My heartbeat hammers against my ribcage, attempting to flee the scene. A chill races up and down my spine.
I wait, for what feels like an eternity, but in reality is no more than a handful of seconds, for Roman to either kill me or let me go. I know he’s made up his mind when his palm falls away from my face, the gun disappears, and the bedside lamp clicks on.
He spins me around to face him. “Fuck!What are you doing sneaking into my room in the middle of the night, principessa? I could have killed you.”
“I-I came to apologize,” I squeak.
Releasing me, he drags his hand over his short hair, steps away and sighs. Only then do I notice that he’s completely naked. Does he always sleep in the nude?
“You have nothing to apologize for, Sophia.” He seems more rattled than I am from having his gun pointed at my head. Stupidly, perhaps, I have this deeply rooted confidence that Roman will never hurt me—on purpose or by accident—especially now that the danger has passed.
