“No,” she shook her head. “When was your last relationship?”
“Relationship?” he repeated with a dry laugh. “Years ago. Fucking, on the other hand, the week before I helped you crawl out from your father’s desk and out the window.”
“Oh,” she thought about his words for a moment. The idea of him casually having meaningless sex bothered her. “Well, I want to be clear about something. I don’t want to just fuck, Roman,” she threw his own term back at him feeling a tiny sense of satisfaction at the trace of surprise in his eyes. She rarely used the word, and it felt foreign and awkward coming from her lips. But she wanted to make sure he understood she was serious. “This will be a real relationship or nothing.”
Leaning back in his chair, he tilted them both back towards the large window behind him, spreading his arms out to either side. “I’m right here, gorgeous,” He grinned. Grabbing her hand, he laced his fingers on top of hers and placed them on top of the heated bulge of his pants that sat between them, smiling wider at her shocked inhalation. “And my dick can certainly attest to that fact that we are not currently just fucking.”
“I’m sorry,” letting out a sigh, Rahina buried her face in his neck and breathed in the clean smell of him. “I’m beginning to realize I’m a little insecure around you,” she admitted, toying with the material of his white button-down shirt. “I guess it's going to take me a while to get used to the idea that we’re together now. I kind of expected that I would have to tell you to get rid of a few girls you had in the wings,” she laughed bitterly.
“Now you are just stroking my ego,” and though his accented words were taunting the feel of his hand stroking her back in comfort made her heart swell like a lovesick teenager.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she feigned contriteness, mentally shaking off the moody insecurity that snuck up on her. Leaning back, she gave him a serious nod as one hand snuck back between them and stroked the hardening bulge between them. “No stroking, understood. I will make sure never to stroke you or your ego.”
The playfulness vanished from his eyes, replaced by a predatory hunger. Pushing his hips further into her hand, he pulled at the loose crop-top she wore over her black leotard until some of the stitching popped in her ear. Revealing more of her skin on her neck, he leaned in and covered her thrashing pulse with his mouth, suckling it roughly. Her body tensed as she gave a small cry of shock, but his heavy arms only encircled her tighter, trapping her stroking hand between them forcing her to stay cupping the hardened bulge as he devoured the tender skin of her neck.
“I will strip you naked right now, Rahina, I swear I will,” he growled as he pulled away to inspect the bruise, he no doubt left on her neck. “It is only my decency, which I should warn you is thread-fucking-bare, which is holding me back.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have held back last night,” running her free hand through his short silky hair, she pushed herself higher on his lap, rubbing the thumb of her trapped hand in alternating friction against his erection. “and on my birthday no less.”
He groaned with regret at the memory, pushing his dick against her torturous hand. “I’m going to ruin you tomorrow night,” he rasped evilly. “For seventy-two hours I won’t let you put on clothes, walk, and maybe not even talk.” Tilting her chin up, he used his thumb to part her lips slightly. “I will keep every part of you filled with me,” he murmured meaningfully staring at her lips.
Swallowing nervously, she gripped his shoulders. “We’ll see,” she dared to taunt. “Ballerinas are said to be the ultimate athlete in terms of stamina.”
“Is this a challenge?” The absolute glee that widened his eyes should have told her to stop, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to tease him back, she wanted to push the limits with this man.
“I’m simply saying you should consider the fact that I may be the one to leave you in ruins by hour seventy-two,” she said boldly.
“My God,” he breathed, pulling her closer to him, he pressed her throbbing core brazenly against the hard-curving ridge of his erection, forcing her to feel the searing heat she caused. “I can barely contain my excitement. Consider the challenge accepted.”
Chapter 12
Across the room, the phone vibrated against the hardwood floor where she dropped it earlier. Laying a few feet from it was her gym bag, partially open and some of the contents scattered around it. Rahina didn’t care. The vibrating stopped as the call went unanswered. It would start again, she thought absently. For nearly an hour the phone had rung nonstop, only to be broken up by the occasional chime of an incoming text notification. She wouldn’t read them, and she would not answer. She wanted everything to just stop, to fade away and leave her alone.
Sitting on the floor in her room, she leaned against the side of her bed and stared out the window that faced her. Rain came down in hard sheets pelting at the glass and distorting the lights from the building across from her window. Focusing on a particular droplet of water, she watched numbly as it slowly inched its way down the glass picking up speed as it joined with other rivulets until it sunk all the way to the sill.
Sinking—that was what she felt like. Everything in her life felt as if it were sinking into a deep pit. Pulling up her knees, Rahina wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on top. Tears threatened with stinging warning in the back of her eyes as she closed them to the memories of earlier. The look of pure joy on Nadia’s face when Theodore announced the principal title, the curious glances people cast her way while they clapped and cheered for Nadia, and the crushed look Jason gave her as they both realized what just happened. Somehow, Rahina was able to walk out with her head held high despite the weightless feeling that spread from her chest to her limbs. It felt as if she wasn’t anchored down, even when she got in her car and drove back to her apartment, it felt as if her body would simply float away. But the shock of the news finally made its way past the buzzing static noise in her brain. The thought of her mother’s reaction to her failure brought Rahina’s thoughts crashing down back to reality. Now it felt as if she was just sinking.
The phone buzzed again. Getting up slowly, she walked over to the upside-down phone and picked it up. There was no photo for his contact screen, just the large five black letters set against a blue screen—Roman. Pressing her lips together, she tried to stem the sudden wave of tears. She had been so cocky with him, telling him how good she was and making grand plans to celebrate after she got the position and now—she had nothing. The call was nearing its last ring, and she could see the icons at the top of the screen for the other numerous missed calls. She swiped to answer.
“He…” she began weakly, but his voice cut her off.
“Open the door,” he commanded evenly.
Jerking her head up, she stared down her small entrance hallway to the front door. Her heart tightened at the thought of him seeing her now. She already knew what she must look like. Puffy red eyes, disheveled hair, and the ever-present aura of failure.
“Roman I don’t think…”
Again, he cut her off, and though his words were demanding, there was a calmness to them she did not expect. “Rahina, walk over to the door and unlock it.”
She knew she didn’t have a choice; he was coming in regardless. Walking over to the door, she turned the deadbolt backward. The door opened at once, forcing her to step back as Roman pushed himself inside. Rahina nearly let out a groan at the sight of him, he was wearing dark jeans and a black shirt. It figured the first time she got to witness him in casual clothing her life was in utter ruins.
Turning away from him, she wiped at the tears in her eyes. “Roman, please, I just need to be alone right now.”
Shutting the door behind him, Roman continued to walk forward, forcing her to retreat back into her living room. His eyes were unreadable, and his smile was placid and small. Looking down pointedly at her phone still clutched against her stomach he reached out and plucked it quickly from her hands.
“What are you doin
g?” she watched his thumb swiped and tapped at her screen before efficiently flipping the phone back around towards her and handing it over.
“Besides from me, you have multiple unanswered messages from your sister, Mario, and your dance partner Jason. Message them and then pack a bag,” His tone brooked no room for argument.
Oxygen left her lungs in a deep exhale, leaving her feeling deflated. She was barely hanging on; she didn’t want him to see her like this. “I don’t want to go anywhere, Roman,” her throat felt tight with the urge to cry as she spoke. “I just want to sit here.”
Shaking his head, he walked past her and grabbed one of her wrists, forcing her to walk slowly behind him as he walked into her bedroom. “You are coming to my house.”
“Please, I just…”
He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. His determined expression shut her up immediately. “It isn’t a choice Rahina.”
Nodding silently, she reached for her gym bag on the floor and began packing.
“I didn’t know you could drive.” She expected to see Mosca when they exited the elevator to the front of her building. Instead, there was a large black extended cab truck parked at the curb.
Holding onto the steering wheel with one arm lazily draped over the top, Roman gave her a questioning sidelong look.
“I mean, you own a dealership full of fancy luxury sports cars. I just assumed you would drive one of those.” When she pictured Roman driving, she imagined him stepping out of a sleek midnight blue car with cool scissor doors that opened straight up from the car’s frame. Rahina never once imagined a large pick-up truck.
Roman gave a chuckle filled with self-mockery. “I used to, trust me. When I was younger and more reckless, I would race through town with million-dollar cars that held me only inches from the ground. But I soon grew tired of folding myself in a position where I could suck my own dick to get in and out of the goddamn car.”
A sudden surge of laughter hit her battered heavy heart with unexpected force, bringing tears to her eyes. “No,” she pleaded through her laughter, holding up one hand towards him. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much to smile and cry all in one night,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath.
“And you want to continue crying?”
“Yes,” she pouted, turning to stare out her window, knowing her words made no sense. She wasn’t ready to give up on her sadness just yet, everything she had worked for the past few years shattered today by a simple announcement. Eventually, in a small voice, she asked, “How did you find out?”
“It was not hard to figure out. From the moment you woke up and until you got to the tryout, you sent me twelve messages all detailing your excitement and nervousness. When I did not hear anything from you after the tryout, I began to suspect something went wrong.”
“I could have been out celebrating,” she said dryly, turning back to the window when she felt more tears threaten to fall.
“As I called you, I had Mosca pull up the Nadia girl’s social media page,” blessedly he didn’t finish his sentence. She didn’t want to know what Nadia posted in celebration to her new position at the company.
Leaning heavily back into her seat, Rahina stared directly ahead past the swaying windshield wipers wicking away the rain. Silence settled between them with only the sound of the rain and constant flick of the wipers. Streetlights reflected off the wet road as he turned the truck left at the green arrow while tail lights of other cars refracted through the rain-soaked glass. She wanted to talk and joke with him like normal, but no words came out of her mouth. All she could feel was numbing disappointment and shame for even letting Roman see her like this. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out.
Eventually, the truck slowed to a stop and Rahina looked around. Ahead of them she watched as one of four garage doors opened. It was so dark and rainy out she could hardly make out the rest of the house. Pulling onto the clean, shiny flooring, Roman parked the truck and clicked for the garage to close behind them.
“Wow,” she mouthed silently, following his lead and stepping down from the dripping wet truck.
On either side of them sat two shining black vehicles. One, his custom SUV she rode in when she tagged along to pick him up from the airport, and the other was a large polished black Maybach sedan.
“If your goal was to take my mind off my tragic day by reminding me how poor I am, well then I must inform you it's only slightly working,” she grumbled looking tiredly from the sleek cars to Roman.
“Do not worry, there is more. In my second attempt, I am going to introduce you to my dogs, and we will both see if they attempt to attack you or not.”
“Sounds…exciting?” her voice went up at the end with uncertainty as she followed him to the side door.
Stepping into a small hallway, there was another door directly ahead of them and what looked to be a staircase at the end of the hallway. Roman laid his hand on the doorknob and waited. Behind the door, they could both hear paws clicking against the floor and excited panting breaths. Opening the door, two gray shapes moved with blurring speed towards them.
“Sidet!” Roman’s abrupt baritone command stilled the dogs immediately forcing them to sit attentively in front of him.
“I kind of want you to speak in Russian all the time,” she admitted with a wry tired smile, just a spark of her normal mood flaring up before withering away again.
Catching his amused smile at her admission, she let him pull her gently in front of him to face the two massive pit bulls. Shiny gray coats and large sweet eyes stared at her with eager contained curiosity.
“That one,” he reached around her and pointed to the one on the left with the white paws and white markings around the face. “is Genghis. And the other,” he pointed to the other one on the right that was pure slate gray. “Is Hannibal.”
“They’re beautiful,” she wanted to ask if they bite, but she knew a man like Roman didn’t have two big beautiful cuddly lap-dogs as pit-bulls.
Patiently the dogs continued to stare at her and back up to Roman as they waited for his next command. Reaching around her, Rahina had to suppress the urge to shudder as she felt his warmth hug her as he guided one of her hands out towards the dogs. Tentatively the dogs looked to Roman and then back to her before leaning towards her hand with sniffing exploration. Rahina smiled as Hannibal gave her fingers and Roman’s a welcoming lick. Roman murmured something deep in Russian near her ear, and both dogs relaxed from their positions and began enthusiastically licking and nudging her in pure want for play and affection.
“Oh, you’re just two sweet babies,” she cooed at them, scratching each one behind their ears.
“God,” he groaned, grabbing her bag off her shoulder and carrying it down the hallway with him. “You are one of those?”
“One of what?” she followed, both dogs trailing alongside her as she walked.
He shook his head, giving her a mock-disgusted smile before flipping on a light switch. “The voice.”
“Oh, you mean the baby voice!” she laughed. “Are you telling me you don’t baby talk your dogs?”
“Hell, no.”
“You’re a monster.”
“I tried to warn you,” he flashed her a grin of white teeth. Setting her bag on a nearby barstool, he gestured towards the expanse of the room. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Stopping at the edge of the hallway, Rahina took in her surroundings. To her right was a large open kitchen, lined from one end to the other with matte black cabinets that spanned to the ceiling. The white marble veined countertops were free from any of the normal items one would see in a kitchen giving it a cold but professional feel. Over the gigantic kitchen island was the living room. The fifteen-foot windows covered the far wall and wrapping around to cover the distance of another wall took her breath away. Broken up only by a strip of narrow wall that ended in a stately marble fireplace, the surrounding windows overlooked from what she could tell through the rain pelted g
lass a large pool glowing blue from its recessed lights in the backyard.
“My god,” she whispered in obvious awe as she stepped forward to catch a glimpse of the upstairs balcony above the quiet kitchen and living area. She could only assume they lead to the bedrooms. “A life of crime really does pay well. I am starting to think my family may be doing it wrong.”
“They are,” Roman assured her without a shred of remorse. Opening the enormous restaurant grade, double-door refrigerator, he stood looking at the contents with his back to her. “Chicken or fish?”
Pulling herself onto the black cushioned stool, she leaned forward onto the cold marble counter with both elbows. “Are you going to cook? For me?” she asked, watching the pronounced muscles in his back tighten and flex as he grabbed supplies out of the fridge. “I feel so honored.”
“You should,” he replied dryly, setting various items on the counter they shared. “I cook for no one but myself.” Holding up two packages, he gave her an expectant waiting look. “Decide.”
Pointing to the chicken, he nodded and put the fish back in the fridge. She watched as he lined up all of his ingredients.
“Thank you,” her voice barely rose over the sound of the rushing water.
Transferring the chicken to the cutting board, his gray eyes looked up and met hers for one intense moment that made her whole body stiffen. The brief look of silent understanding acknowledgment affected her more than she could have ever anticipated. Turning away from him, she forced herself to stare out the window as tears watered her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, she was supposed to be here celebrating and smiling in this man’s arms not crying at his kitchen counter. Wiping his washed hands on a towel, Roman tapped a few commands in his phone. Soft notes of music began to drift throughout the grand open room as he tossed his phone back across the counter and silently went to back to work. The calm quiet that existed around them gradually began to seep into her tense muscles, and she relaxed into the high-back of the cushioned stool. She found herself staring at the shifting muscles in his wide tattooed forearms as he worked.
His Smile: A Mafia Romance Page 12
