Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(19)
“You have a foot fetish, Roman?”
“No. But it looks like I’m developing one,” he says with his chin tucked and releases my leg.
“Right.”
He does the same with each pair, and by the time we’re done, I’m seriously turned on. I had no idea that my feet are an erogenous zone, or maybe it was the way he deliberately caressed the skin around my ankle every single time. I have a feeling that every part of my body would become an erogenous zone if Roman touched it. Of course, I’ll never allow it to come to that.
“We’re taking them all,” he says and motions for Dimitri who is standing by the entrance.
“Are you crazy?” I whisper, making sure Dimitri won’t overhear. “We’ll take only one pair.”
“No.”
“Roman!”
“All of them, Nina. Now, smile.”
“Thank you, honey, I love them!” I beam at him and lean to place a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Dimitri will take you to the art supply shop and then to the car. Wait for me there. I need to drop by another store, and I’ll be there shortly.”
“Oh, that would be perfect. I’m not good at orienting myself in unfamiliar spaces.”
“I know, love. Don’t worry, it happens to everyone.” He places a quick kiss on my lips and turns to leave the store, and I notice Dimitri watching him with confusion on his face.
“He is so sweet, isn’t he?” I smile at Dimitri who just blinks at me. I quickly turn and head out, so he won’t hear me snorting.
Chapter 7
When we return from our shopping tour, the marriage official is already waiting for us in the living room of Roman’s suite. The marriage license signing is highly anti-climactic. The guy says his thing, while Varya and Maxim act as our witnesses. A couple of yesses and four signatures later—Roman and I are husband and wife. I can’t believe I got married in a pair of jeans I’ve owned since my freshman year of high school. It was one of the most bizarre things I have ever experienced. The rings are a nice touch, though. I don’t know how Roman managed to find the wedding rings so fast. He probably went to a jewelry store while I was waiting with Vova and Dimitri in the car. I also got a second ring - a thick white gold band with a pale rock in the middle, which I suppose should pose as an engagement ring. It’s probably fake, because the real deal would cost a fortune. I like it anyway.
After they leave, Roman takes his laptop, says he has work to do, and locks himself into his room.
He doesn’t even come out to eat the lunch Varya brings.
I put my new clothes into the wardrobe, and finish one painting before my inspiration dries up.
Now, I’m getting royally bored. Maybe I should order some stuff and start redecorating the house as planned. Maybe some lamps. I sprawl onto the sofa and close my eyes.
“Lamps. I love lamps. The bigger the better. Gold, with big black lampshades. And tresses,” I mumble to myself. “They’ll bring in the sophisticated look, so I will put them everywhere. The staff is going to hate those things. They’re hell to dust and—”
“No lamps.” I hear Roman’s deep voice coming directly from above me, but I just smile and
continue, keeping my eyes closed.
“And my husband hates my lamps. But he knows he has zero interior design knowledge, and
because he’s so crazy about me, he decides to leave my lamps in peace. All fourteen of them.”
I open my eyes and find Roman bending over me, his eyes narrowed. He’s in his wheelchair again.
Strange. He usually uses crutches when he’s in his rooms.
“Decided to finally get out of your cave, I see.” I cock an eyebrow.
“You should get dressed. We’re going down for dinner in thirty minutes.”
“Slutty, serious, or something in the middle?”
“Middle will work.”
“Damn, I wish you picked slutty.”
My fucking knee has been acting up again. It happens every once in a while. I took some
painkillers this afternoon and spent the rest of the day working from my bed, hoping it would help. It did, but just barely. I hate this chair, but the thing that bothers me more than the chair itself is Nina seeing me in it. She’s nothing to me. We have a limited-time deal, and then she’ll be gone. Still, it bothers me.
The door to her room opens, and when Nina comes out, the room starts pulsating with energy.
She’s wearing tight black jeans and a yellow silky blouse, paired with heels in the same color. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail that falls down her back. Nina normally doesn’t wear makeup, and I like that. She doesn’t need any. But tonight, she must have decided that this is a special occasion, because her lips are deep red, and she did something with her eyes to look even more cat-like. Funny thing, I miss her nose ring.
“Ready?” I ask.
“As much as I’ll ever be. Lead the way, husband.”
*
When we enter the big dining room on the first floor, everybody is already seated and chatting. The moment they notice us, the chatter dies and they all stand up. The tension is so thick, you can cut through it with a knife, so I decide to get to the point right away.
“This is my wife, Nina Petrova,” I declare.