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I flash him a smug smile. “I guess we’re in the same boat now, aren’t we? Your dad died before he could tell you that you were enough. Now you’ll always wonder what he actually thought of you. Just like me.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to take them back. He was attacking a wound of mine that’s been there for several years. I just attacked his fresh one. His dad died four days ago.
Yeah, I’m definitely going to hell.
Roman, however, doesn’t look crushed by my words. A normal person would have been heartbroken. But his eyes gleam.
“See, this is why I like you, Elena. You don’t hold back any punches. You’re vicious. A lot like your brother, actually. You murder people with words from that pretty mouth of yours, and he literally murders.”
My mouth opens slightly in surprise. I’m not sure what to say to that.
“You don’t like me,” I state. The words come out slowly.
He shrugs. “Like, hate, it’s all the same. Some days, I can’t stand the sight of you. And other days, you’re what I crave the most.”
I’m sorry, what? Did he just say he craves me?
I have no idea where those words are coming from. But I think I’ve had enough. I get to my feet, ready to run, to escape from whatever the hell this is.
“Wait,” Roman says. Very slowly, I lift my eyes to his. “Don’t go.”
Another statement that makes no fucking sense.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you’re making me feel something. I can’t feel anything right now, lupacchiotta.”
I study him, taking note of the look in his eyes, the circles beneath them. I let out a soft sigh.
“I think you need to go to sleep,” I finally say.
“Trust me, I won’t be able to fall asleep.”
“Sure you will. All you have to do is lie down on your bed and close your eyes. Even someone like you is capable of basic human action.”
I move forward, placing my hand on his arm to pull him up. His skin is a burning furnace. But I don’t pull away, despite the electricity pulsing beneath my skin at the contact. “Come on, Roman. Just go to bed, you’ve drunk enough. I guarantee the bar will still be here when you wake up.”
He doesn’t budge. His expression is thoughtful.
“You know you’re shit at comforting people.”
“Yeah, thanks, duly noted,” I reply with an eye roll.
He finally gets to his feet. I lead him out of the bar room, toward his bedroom. I’ve never been inside of it before. I’ve always been scared lightning would strike me as soon as I crossed the threshold. But I take a step inside today. Roman’s a little unsteady on his feet. My arm is still around his as I lead him toward his bed.
I take in his room, from the dark red and gold of the bed and walls to the wooden floors, large windows, and dark curtains. There’s a flat-screen on the wall and a bookcase filled with books at a side of the room. I know it’s not just for decoration. Roman’s favorite, hobby apart from recreational murder, is reading.
Very slowly, I lower him on to his bed. I know he’s not drunk; I’ve seen the man guzzle down an entire bottle of whiskey without any effect. He only had a few glasses tonight. But he seems exhausted.
Once I have him settled on the bed, his arm goes over his face, shielding his eyes. I stare at him for a second. He’s still in his funeral outfit.
“Roman,” I say quietly. “You need to take off the suit.”
His lips curl into a smirk. “If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”
“Of course you’d say that. Don’t worry, sweetie, I have no interest in seeing you naked,” I say with a smile.
“Really?” he drawls.
