Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(37)

“I like her Roman! She’s feisty, this one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Tanush.” Nina beams and I shake my head.

“This is my wife, Nina,” I announce and send her an irritated stare. “And she definitely knows how to make an entrance.”

“Thanks, honey.” She brushes her hand over mine and turns to Tanush. “About that casino, how do you make sure people don’t cheat? Do you have cameras that watch the tables or . . .?”

Tanush listens to Nina chattering and answers her questions. She’s intentionally asking ridiculous things that make everyone snicker from time to time, keeping the atmosphere light. When she questions if the casino’s air vents are covered by cameras, everyone looks at her and bursts out laughing as she



explains that casino robbers always get in through the vents in the movies.

She’s in her element, playing her part of a naive and slightly slow-witted wife perfectly, but I can see the bags under her eyes, which she tried to cover with makeup. It’s clearly time to announce the end of this idiotic dinner and send Albanians home.




When the door to Roman’s suite closes behind me, I exhale slowly and finally let my shoulders slump. I feel like shit.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Roman says through his teeth, and wheels toward me until I’m standing between his legs.

“What exactly?”

“Where do I fucking start?” he barks, his nostrils flaring. “You coming to a bloody dinner with a fever. Or putting yourself in harm’s way. We were this close to full-blown bloodshed down there, and you walked right in the middle of it!”

“I’m sorry for distressing you.”

Roman grinds his teeth. He’s really mad.

“And you wore that dress.” He leans forward and grabs me around the waist. “You’re wearing that dress only for me from now on. Is that clear?”

I try my best to hide my grin. And fail.

“Alright, caveman.” I put my hands around his neck and place a kiss on his mouth. “You are sweet, you know?”

“I’m not sweet, Nina. I’m fucking furious.”

“Still . . .” I place a kiss on his brow, then another one on his hard jaw. “You are hot when you’re mad.”

“Are you trying to manipulate me?”

“Yes.” Another kiss, this time on the other side of his jaw. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” He cups my face in his palms and slams his mouth to mine. “Get into the bed. Your

temperature is up again, I’ll bring Tylenol.”




He is unbearable.

It’s been three days since the dinner with the Albanians and Roman is still treating me like I should be bedridden. I found his mother hen act kind of cute the first day, even though my fever broke and I was back to normal. Now I just want to strangle him.

“I am not spending another day watching Netflix, and you are not working from the living room again.” I poke a finger into his chest. “You will take your laptop and go downstairs to your office, and you’ll do it now. I mean it Roman.”

“The moment I’m out of the door, you are going to be up and working.”

“I need to finish four more pieces in four days. Of course, I will be working. You made me spend three days on a sofa.”

“You had a fever.”

“Three days ago!” I throw my arms in the air and stare daggers at him. “I am fine. Please, just go downstairs and let me work.”

“Okay. But I will be checking up on you. If I catch you missing lunch again—”

“Thank you, Jesus.”

He is following me with his eyes as I march to my work space and start prepping up my paints on the table next to the easel. I will have to buy more black paint, I am down to my last tube, since I used most of my stash on the big guy. A few more tubes of red wouldn’t hurt either. I just dipped my brush in the paint when I feel Roman’s lips land on the sensitive spot at the nape of my neck.

“You forgot something,” he whispers and buries his face in my hair.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“A kiss.”

I drop the brush and slowly turn to find him looming over me. I don’t flinch, and there is no feeling of panic. Having him this close, towering over me, stopped triggering me a while ago. I can’t even pinpoint the exact moment when it happened.

“You are so demanding.” I cup his face in my hands and bring his lips to mine.

“I know.” He kisses me again. “Eat your lunch. Call me if you need anything.”

When Roman leaves, I immerse myself in work, stopping only for bathroom breaks. By lunch, I

have another piece done. Brando is getting restless; he’s been running around for at least an hour before finally curling up in his dog bed. Maybe we could go for a walk and try our luck with getting into Leonid’s room again. The last few times I tried, there was always someone around.

In my room, I take the small red ball and the black device from the nightstand, and whistle. Brando jumps up in his dog bed, and as soon as he sees the ball, he starts running around my legs. Placing the listening device in the back pocket of my jeans, I leave Roman’s suite with Brando on my heels, and head into the west wing.