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"He's really taken to you," I remark, a touch of wonder in my voice. Ilya doesn’t warm up so quickly to just anyone.
Roman shrugs modestly, the hint of a smile on his face. "Maybe it's because of my family. I come from a big one. Always been around kids."
My interest is piqued. "Oh?"
He leans against the doorway, arms folded. "Three older brothers, and one younger half-brother. And with brothers come sisters-in-law and their children. It’s a full house during holidays."
I chuckle softly. "Sounds chaotic. But also warm."
"It is," Roman replies, a nostalgic glint in his eye. "I’m quite popular with my nieces and nephews."
"I can see why," I comment. The ambiance shifts subtly, growing a tad more intimate as we venture into personal territory.
"What about you?" Roman asks, gently probing. "You mentioned an older brother?"
I hesitate before speaking. "Yes, an older brother. We aren’t as close as we used to be, but family is family."
Roman nods understandingly. There’s a lull, a beat of silence, before he speaks again. "And Ilya's father? Is he around?"
The question feels like a punch in the gut. I feel my face grow cold, my jaw set rigid. I briefly close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "No, he isn’t." My voice is barely above a whisper.
I feel Roman's gaze on me, full of questions he’s not asking. My defensive walls are up, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t try to scale them.
"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to—"
"It’s okay," I interrupt, putting on a brave face. "Life throws curve balls. You learn to handle them."
We stand in the doorway in silence, the weight of the unspoken words pressing down on both of us. The atmosphere is thick with an odd blend of understanding and curiosity.
"Thank you for today, Roman," I begin, trying to change the subject. "For the ice cream, for Ilya, for everything."
He gives a small smile, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. We lock eyes, and in that moment, amid the uncertainty and the past shadows, there’s a promise of something more, something undefined but undeniably present.
The space between us feels charged, every inch thrumming with a palpable tension. His dark eyes are fixated on mine, a depth in them I hadn’t seen before. His chest heaves slightly, and I feel the warmth radiating from him.
We stand inches apart, feeling the undeniable magnetism, pulling, urging, demanding. And then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he takes a half step into my apartment, bridging the gap.
His lips find mine, and everything around us fades into obscurity. The kiss is raw, full of unbridled passion. There’s an urgency in the way he grips my waist, pulling me closer. It’s as if we’re trying to consume each other, desperate to quench a thirst we didn’t even know existed.
My fingers tangle in his hair, pressing him deeper into the kiss. Every nerve ending is on fire, every sense heightened. The sensation is intoxicating, the need overwhelming.
We break apart for a brief second, gasping for breath, before crashing into each other again. The world, with all its complications, fades to a distant hum. All that matters is the feel of his lips on mine, the heat of his body pressed against me.
And then, the shrill ring of my phone slices through the air, jarring us back to reality. With great reluctance, I pull back, my heart pounding, eyes wide. Roman mirrors my expression, a mixture of surprise and desire.
I reach for the phone on the table and see my brother’s name flash on the screen. Taking a deep breath, I answer, trying to mask the shakiness in my voice.
"Valentina?" My brother's voice is filled with concern.
"Yes, I’m here. What is it?"
There’s a pause. “Are you in the middle of something?” Vladimir asks.
I glance at Roman.Why yes, I most certainly am.“Just putting Ilya down. Let me call you back in a few minutes.”
Another pause. “Fine. But don’t keep me waiting too long. And tell the little man his uncle says hello.” Something in his tone suggests he doesn’t quite believe me. Or, perhaps, I’m just being paranoid.
“I will. Talk soon.”
