Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(56)

“You think he killed her, too?”

“Probably. When Roman grew up, I started working as a housekeeper and tried my best to keep

myself as far away as possible from the pakhan. I handled the staff and didn’t have any reason to cross Lev’s path. Until he called for me one day. When I came into the library, he grabbed me around my neck and slammed me into the wall, choking me. He was mad because the maid didn’t change the sheets that morning as he requested. When Roman came in, I was half passed out already. Roman killed him, and if he didn’t, Lev would have choked me to death.”

I look up at Varya, who is looking pointedly at the hand I raised at some point and unconsciously placed on my neck.

“We all have some kind of trigger, child. Roman saw that man as a threat to you, and he neutralized it. I’m not saying he did the right thing. I’m just trying to make you understand. He knows now that what he did hurt you, and believe me when I say he’d never do anything intentionally that may inflict you any kind of pain. He’s madly in love with you, and I think when you left, it broke something in him. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. I think he’s doing all those reckless things on purpose.

He . . . he got shot last month.”

“What?” I whisper, and the tears I have been keeping at bay so far burst out.

“In his upper arm. He was lucky—it just went through, nothing serious. This time. Please, at least talk to him. He’s going to get himself killed, Nina. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Oh, I’ll talk to him.” I stand up from the table and hurry to grab my jacket and wallet, brushing my tears away with the sleeve of my shirt along the way. “I’ll call us a taxi.”

“Vova can take us. I think it’s his shift,” Varya says casually.

“He’s somewhere in the neighborhood?”

“You could say that. He’s across the street.”

I raise my head to look at her, then go to the window and look outside. Like she said, there is a nondescript car sitting there. “He put a tail on me?”

“He put a security detail on you. They have been there for months.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

When we exit the building, I march right across the street toward the car and knock on the window.

Vova’s head snaps up, and he stares at me with wide eyes and quickly lowers the window.

“Nina Petrova?”

I grind my teeth but don’t correct him, only motion with my head to Varya who is approaching.

“We need a ride.”

“Of course.” He unlocks the door, and we get in the back. “Where do you need to go?”

“I’m paying Pakhan a visit,” I say and lean back into the seat.



*

It takes us close to an hour to reach the house. The moment the car stops in the driveway, I get out and rush up the stone steps toward the main door. The security guy, who is standing guard, looks at me with surprise, then nods and opens the door for me.

“Where is he, Kolya?”

“I believe Pakhan is in his office,” he says.

I rush across the hall and turn left toward the west wing corridor leading to Roman’s office. The closer I get to his door, the more my bravado leaks out of me. By the time I reach the door, I’m a bundle of nerves and anxiety. I’m going to see him again after all this time, and I am both excited and scared. I want to go inside, but at the same time, I want to turn around and bolt. No going back now— it’s too late.

Placing my hand on the handle, I take a deep breath, school my features into an expressionless mask, and enter without knocking.

Roman is sitting behind his desk, looking between papers in his hands and the laptop screen. I let the door behind me close, lean my back onto it, and watch him for a few seconds. God, I’ve missed him so much that just looking at him hurts.

“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.