Page 77 of Painted Scars

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“I hear you got yourself shot,” I say, and I’m amazed how casual I manage to sound—not a tremor in my voice, but a hurricane rages inside.

Roman’s head snaps up, his gaze colliding with mine, and he stares me down with such force that if I didn’t have the door behind me, I would have stumbled backward. So much is going on in his eyes, different emotions flashing and being replaced with others so quickly, I can’t catch all of them. There is surprise, but it’s mixed with hurt and so much rage that I can’t help but flinch.

“And that concerns you how, Nina?” Quiet, angry words—each one piercing my already shredded heart. He hates me.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of him. “Why?”

Why? Such a simple question. And so many answers. Because I was afraid for him. Because I missed him and wanted to see him even if only for a minute. Because I love him. But instead of answering, I stand there and try to control my breathing because, suddenly, it feels like there is not enough air in the room.

Roman stands up, reaches for the cane leaning on the desk, and walks toward me. He is leaning on his cane quite heavily, but his steps are sure and rather quick. One tear escapes from the corner of my eye. He did it; I knew he would.

He comes to stand in front of me and raises his hand to place it on the door next to my head, caging me in. He lowers his head so that our faces are only inches apart.

“I asked you a question. I need an answer,malysh.”

The dam bursts upon me hearing his endearment, and the tears flow freely down my face. My lower lip starts quivering so I bite it and slowly raise my hands to his face. They are trembling. I hesitate for a second, then place my palms on his cheeks.

“You. Left. Me,” he whispers, and then bangs the door with his palm. “You fucking left me!”

“I know.”

Rage. So much rage in his eyes as he looks down at me, his jaw set in a hard line.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he whispers. “I wish I could turn back time and do things differently. I can’t, and that’s a fact. But I am not sorry for killing that bastard. That’s another fact for you. I’ll ask again. Why do you care if I was shot?”

I can’t make myself look away from his eyes. He’s not sorry for what he did. Can I live with that?

Roman clenches his jaw, reaches with his hand, and buries it in the hair at the back of my head. “Answer me, damn it.”

“Because I love you, Roman!” I press my palms onto his cheeks and shake his stubborn head. “I love you. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt. You will end this fucking war you have started, you hear me? I don’t care how you do it, but end it, or so help me God, I’m going to kill you myself.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, staring into my eyes with his fingers clutching the back of my head.

“Marry me,” he says, “and I’ll stop the war.”

Nina’s eyes go wide at my proposition. She’s probably wondering if I’m serious, and you bet I am. No matter the means, I’m getting her back.

“You are blackmailing me into marrying you. Again.”

It’s not a question, but I decide to clarify anyway. “Yes, I am.”

Her eyes stare into mine, and I watch them closely. They are red at the edges, and the tears are still flowing. I don’t think she even notices that she’s still crying, and I yearn to brush them away with my hand. This will be the last time she cries because of me, I vow it to myself.

I need her to say yes. There is no way I can go through one more night without my wildcat curled into my side. She took my black heart with her that day she left, and if she says no, she can keep it. I’m ruined for anyone else anyway.

“Jesus, Roman,” she sighs and presses the heels of her palms over her eyes.

I stare at her hands, which are smeared with black paint, and a tiny flame of hope rises in my chest. “You didn’t take off the rings.”

“I couldn’t.” She lowers her hands and sniffs.

Okay. We are getting somewhere. I reach for her hand and take off the rings from her finger. They come off too easily. She has lost weight. I’m going to strangle her.

“Give those back!” she yelps and grabs for my hand, but I move it behind my back.

“I will. Just give me a few seconds,” I say, and gripping the cane, slowly start lowering my left knee toward the floor.


Tags: Neva Altaj Romance