Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(43)

“Well, what an unexpected development. I’m so glad to see you back on your feet, Roman.

Literally.”

“Is that so, Uncle?” A corner of Roman’s mouth curls up. His posture is relaxed, but I don’t miss the way he’s gripping his crutches. Despite how much his leg is hurting, he’s doing a great job at pretending.

“Roman, I’m tired. Can we go up, please?” I say, then turn to Leonid and smile sweetly. “I need to do my evening face routine before bed, and it takes at least an hour.”

Leonid gives me a condescending look, then turns and marches inside the house. We follow him at a much slower pace.

As soon as the suite door closes behind us, I turn to Roman and point toward his bedroom.

“Bed. Now, Roman.”

He doesn’t argue with me, which is evidence enough that he’s in a significant pain.

I take off my heels, and rush into the kitchen to grab his painkillers and a glass of water and take them to Roman’s bedroom. He approaches the bed and then sits down with a stifled groan. In a painfully slow-motion, he raises his right leg onto the bed and reaches for the medicine bottle in my hand. After swallowing two pills, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Let me,” I say and take over.

He watches me in silence, then shrugs the shirt off and lies down on the bed. When I start

unbuckling his belt, his hand covers mine and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, malysh. Not tonight.”

“Jesus, I’m not intending to have sex. I just need to see your leg.”

“Just leave it. It’ll pass.”

I ignore him and continue removing his pants. Even with me trying my best to be gentle, he hisses in pain a few times. When I finally manage to get a look at his knee, I take a sharp breath. His knee is swollen to double its normal size.

“Shit, Roman.”

I grab a pillow and carefully put it under his leg, trying my best to move it as little as possible.

With that done, I take off the fancy dress, put on one of Roman’s T-shirts, and climb onto the bed to lay next to him. Covering us both with a blanket, I snuggle into Roman’s side and put my hand on his bare chest.

“Nina, I need to ask you something.”

The way he says it, in a strange, somehow detached tone, makes me look up and find him staring at the ceiling, his face set in hard lines.

“Okay,” I say.

“If it ends up that the crutches are the best I can do, will you leave?”

I open my mouth to say how idiotic that question is, but he puts his hand over my lips, silencing me. He’s still not looking at me.

“I need you to think about this before you answer. Think long and hard about what that means. I will never be able to run, no matter how much progress I make. Stairs will always be a problem for me. You might be ok with it for now, but you are young. You will meet other men who are not . . .

damaged. Men who don’t have limitations. So, if I end up stuck with crutches for the rest of my life, and if that’s not something you can accept in the long run, I’ll understand. I swear, I’ll understand and there won’t be any hard feelings on my side. But if that’s the case, I need to know that now. We can keep going until it works for us, and when it doesn’t anymore . . . well, we can each go our separate ways. But I need to know. And I need you to be sure, Nina.”

Roman’s hand leaves my mouth. I try to get over the fact that he may find me so shallow, but then I look at it from his point of view, how I would feel if our roles were reversed, and I understand.

“Did you ever feel that I have a problem with that, Roman? So far, I mean.”

“No. But you are an extremely talented actress, malysh. And from this point forward, I don’t want that other woman, the one you created for the purpose of our agreement. No more acting, no more pretense.”

“Fair deal. Okay then.” I take a breath. “I would love to see you run or take stairs two at a time.

The cane is okay, I guess, and I will be really happy if you come that far.”

I know each word that comes out of my mouth hurts him, because I feel him becoming so still it’s frightening. God, I hate saying all this, but we need the issue resolved once and for all.

“If I could choose, what I would love the most would be for you to go back to where you were before that bomb.”

He’s still looking straight up until that last sentence, but he closes his eyes after hearing that.

“But that’s never going to happen, Roman. I know this is hard for you, and it tears me up inside. I would love to see you without the crutches, but only because I know that’s what would make you happy. That is the only reason. I love you, and I want you happy. I want that for you, so, so much.” I take his face in my hands and make him look at me. “As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter. With or without crutches, I love you the same, baby. Even if you have to go back to using the wheelchair. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck, Roman. The only thing I want, is you. Can I have you, please?”

“You already have me, malysh.” He kisses the top of my head.

There is only silence after that. He isn’t convinced. I want to cry so damn much, but I somehow manage to keep myself together.

“Tell me, Roman, wouldn’t you love for us to be able to have sex in the normal way? Because I would. I would love nothing more than to have you above me, to feel your body pressing mine, pulling my hands above my head. Well, that’s not in the cards for me, for the foreseeable future at least. Maybe forever. Is that a problem? Will you get bored with my issues, decide to swap me with a less faulty version at some point? A woman who won’t involuntarily flinch when you approach her from behind unannounced? Or someone who won’t have a panic attack when you forget, and grab her wrist instead of her forearm?