Page 23 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Ren

I cry in the shower.

Sobs that are hotter than the boiling water running over my body. I hold myself but it’s useless.

I’d been fine this morning. By the afternoon, I found myself off-kilter. Now, I’m completely on the floor, sprawled out and reeling.

It’s been one week since I let Roma back into my life and already I’ve crashed and burned.

My stomach clenches as I think about our bodies moving together. About how he pounded into me relentlessly. Everything I goaded him with the past few days, he gave it right back.

And I took it.

Steam fogs up the bathroom, I stand under the burning water for so long. My skin is red. All the anger is burning me from the inside out.

My face is puffy and I can only manage to pull on a fluffy robe. I slap some moisturizer on in an attempt to pull myself together.

Roma is changing the sheets when I exit the bathroom .

I pull my arms around myself, pulling the robe tight. “I said get out.”

He’s pulled his briefs back on and the sheet floats in the air as he shakes it out. His long arms spread the material flat.

I’m sniffling as I tell him, “Get out.”

He tucks the flat sheet into the corners, pulling them tight. He grabs the duvet next, pulling it over the cotton sheets.

“Would you leave my bed alone.”

He walks to the kitchen and I hear my fridge open. “You need to drink some water.”

I don’t bother to take the glass when he tries to hand it to me. “You’re not staying the night.”

His chest lifts slightly like he’s holding back a sigh.

“You need to leave.” My throat aches. My eyes still burn from the hot steam and tears that have decided they’re not done.

Roma places the water on a coaster on my nightstand. It’s clean for once, the weeks’ worth of empty soda cans thrown away. And all my clothes have been tossed into the laundry basket. The washer whirls in the background and I’m guessing he already threw in the old sheets.

“Get out,” I say again, tired of repeating the same damn phrase.

He throws pillows onto the bed, rearranging them. I can’t remember the last time I’d made my bed and it pisses me off how the décor comes naturally to him. Somebody’s watched a little too much HGTV.

“Do you want to talk about what’s upsetting you or do you want me to order you some food?” he asks, smoothing a hand over the duvet to get all the wrinkles out.

He’s dreaming if he thinks either of those things are happening. And I do not appreciate this little let me get you food and water aftercare.

He fucking tore into me when he knows I’m the one who’s supposed to call the shots. That’s how this arrangement works.

“You have ten seconds before I call Trevino.” I walk past him to find my phone.

I hear his scoff but there’s not as much satisfaction. I’m too raw to feel anything.

There’s a pressing need to curl up in bed but he follows me out of the room.

It irritates me enough to snap at him. “How could you do that?”

He’s pulled on his jeans. “Do what?”

“You know what you fucking did.” I hug myself tighter.

Shrugging his T-shirt on, he sighs. “We were going to have to find some sort of balance at some point, hellcat.”

“Don’t fucking call me tha?—”

“Yeah, I know. No baby names right? Unless you want to call me good boy?”

My cheeks warm at his use of the endearment. His hair sticks up funny and there are bruises under his eyes. If we were meant to be lovey-dovey we’d be cuddling in bed, exhausted after a long day and a hard fuck.

But I refuse to yield. To find myself in that familiar territory again.

“This is never happening again,” I say.

“Right.” He dismisses it immediately, patting his pockets and pulling out his phone. He checks the time and slips it back where it was. “At some point you’re going to have to admit you’re still in love with me.”

My breath is torn away from me.

He announces it casually, his hands in his back pockets. Warm soft brown eyes never leave mine.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“No, hellcat, I’m not.” He shrugs. “I love you and you love me. It’s been that way since I met you that first night at Fujimori’s.”

Tears collect in the corner of my eyes. “That night was a lie.”

His shoulders tense and he nods slightly.

“That’s not much of an apology,” I say.

Chewing the inside of his lip, he thinks. “I fucked up, Ren. I did a shitty thing because I thought it’d help my family. And for five fucking years, I’ve sat around hating myself because in the end, all it showed me was how shitty my family was while losing you.”

“Your family is shitty, but you still work for them.”

“Yeah, I know,” he bites out, not meeting my eye. “Is that what I need to do to prove to you how much I love you? Quit the family business.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Five years have gone by.

But Roma shakes his head. “I would’ve thought so but then that cab ride, Ren.”

I could kick myself. “It was stupid, mindless sex, Roma.”

“There’s never been such a thing between us,” he quietly replies.

I swallow a lump in my throat. “I can’t do this right now. This has been a shit enough day already. Just go away, Roma.”

“Did my family do something today? My dad? You left the party.”

I shake my head. For once it wasn’t Lev who upset me.

He reaches out a hand to touch me. I step back and the limb falls uselessly to his side. “Whether you like it or not, hellcat, I’m your person.”

My head hurts from frowning so hard. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He acts like it’s so easy. Like we can pick up right where we left off.

But I’m the one who ended up shattered. I picked up the pieces of my glass heart. And when I couldn’t repair it, I just moved on without it.

Heartless Ren, right? The girl who only cares about making money and doesn’t care about taking care of herself. Abe said I hadn’t lived since Cliff died.

It hits me then. How fucked up my life became because of Roma Zimin.

“I killed my cousin because of you.”

Roma jerks back. The words shoot through his quiet confidence. His eyes widen and he staggers. “I. . .”

“This isn’t a fairy tale,” I tell him, my arms still crossed. “It’s a fucked up, messy hook up and it ends now. I had my fun. You had your. . . whatever the fuck that was tonight.”

His jaw tenses, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “You gonna pretend like you didn’t like that?”

I clutch at my robe. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not one to be bossed around anymore.”

His chest wracks with laughter and he runs a hand through his dark locks. “I don’t mind you being bossy, hellcat. I’m man enough to admit it’s a turn on. But there’s going to be more give and take in the future.”

I wrinkle my nose. “There is no future.”

“Things got real fucked up with us last time. But there’s no one else, hellcat. And deep down you know it too.”

“Nice try with the gaslighting.” I point to the door. “Go.”

He grabs his jacket. “Make sure you drink the water.”

“Oh, fuck off.” I’m on his heels, ready to slam the door shut behind him.

But when he opens the door, Ben stands there, one arm raised, ready to knock.

Roma’s hand is still on the door handle. I don’t think Ben’s ever stood so close to him. He knows who Roma is of course, but he arrived in New York after everything had gone down .

The spot I’m standing in gives me the perfect vantage point for watching disbelief sweep over my cousin’s face. Then he steels himself up, the lawyer in him, snapping to attention. He meets my eye a second later.

I’m dressed in a robe. My ex-boyfriend is leaving my apartment. It’s not hard to put two and two together.

Roma nods and Ben takes one step back so he can pass by.

It’s unnervingly quiet in my apartment until Ben asks, “Can I come in?”

I nod, pulling at my robe and pretending like he doesn’t inspect my apartment as he closes the door.

“I thought you were joking about Trevino cleaning your dishes for you.” He clears his throat. I’ve seen mafia men look less tense than my cousin.

I stand there, wiping my eyes.

“Abe told me about what happened. I wanted to come check in on you.” He glances at the door, remembering who just left. “I’m not sure how worried I should be right now.”

The living room lights hurt my head.

“Ren. . .”

“It’s fine. I’m not?—”

“Messing around with Roman Zimin again?” His voice is low, but the words are hard. “What’s going on, Ren?”

I rub my left eye. “I. . .”

“Are you two sleeping together again?”

My eyes start pricking with tears again.

“And you wonder why we’re worried about you?” His words are so bitter they burn into me.

“I’m fine.”

“There’s a serial killer after you,”—Ben ticks off, using his fingers to count—“you take on ten plus meetings a day, you don’t drink enough water.”

“Why is everyone so fucking concerned about the water? ”

He holds another finger up. “And now you’re fucking the guy who broke your heart five years ago.”

There’s a poignant pause.

I rub my eye again, dragging my hand across my sensitive skin. The knots in my shoulders are killing me and my wet hair makes me shiver. “If it makes you feel any better I just threw him out.”

“Oh, okay.”

I hold my hands out wide, shrugging. “I don’t know what people want from me. I like working. It’s not that big of a deal. We hired Trevino. We’ve got everyone looking for the serial killer. I’m shit with men, fine, okay.”

The last two words puncture the air. I’m so frustrated and tired because while my love life could admittedly use some work, yesterday I didn’t realize all my friends thought my life sucked.

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, all right.” He turns toward the door. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Do you hate working with me?”

I can deal with Abe and Russ lecturing me, but if Ben thinks I’m dragging him down then there’s a real problem.

There’s a shake of his head. But he doesn’t quite meet my eye.

“I never tried to be your boss. You’re a lawyer, you’re a lot smarter than me.” I toy with a stray thread on my sleeve. I pull it tight around my finger. “I know I need your help a lot, but if you’re not happy, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can’t help you,” he says with the voice of a big brother, “if you can’t help yourself.”

My chest cracks, a burning sensation fizzling through it. “What does that mean?”

“It’s means I think you’re the strongest person in the entire world but sometimes you do the stupidest things. ”

I bite down on the inside of my mouth, knowing my face is crumbling.

“You trust no one in the business,” Ben says. “You don’t even trust me to take on the occasional meeting for you.”

“That’s not?—”

“But you trust Roman Zimin with your heart.”

It’s a low blow.

“The last time the business had growing pains, he was part of the problem.”

“He’s not part of the problem.” Thank God, Abe and Russet’s intervention didn’t include a conversation regarding my love life.

“I find you crying in your living room as he’s leaving. I’m thinking he’s a part of the problem.”

“Is there anything I’m doing right lately?” I ask.

“This is not about knocking you down.” He takes a step but hesitates. “When’s the last time we had a conversation that didn’t regard the Russians or the Italians or the Irish?”

“We’ve got book club,” I say weakly.

He shoots me a pitying look. “You fell asleep at the last meeting.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You were so tired you almost face planted in the bowl of ramen Abe brought out to you.”

“I woke up like ten minutes later!” They promised me I hadn’t been out that long.

“It was an hour,” Ben says. “We sat around in silence for an hour because we all knew you needed the sleep and didn’t want to disturb you.”

The world tilts, my head swimming. My memory of the event is a lie. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Why didn’t they drop a hint instead of cornering me in a bathroom at the Zimins ?

Irritation flares over Ben’s features. “I don’t know. I guess we all thought the serial killer was the most pressing concern.”

“If I slow down work then the serial killer will think he’s getting to me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben cries out, arms flailing around. “Fuck what the serial killer thinks. For fuck’s sakes, we should probably stop taking clients so that we could spend some actual time figuring out who the fucking serial killer is!”

He runs a hand through his hair, stopping himself. “I’m not yelling about this anymore. . . I need to go.”

The last time I fought with Ben, we were sixteen and I hated his boyfriend. It’s a reversal of fortunes and the stakes are so much higher now.

He shuts the door behind him. There’s only the sound of a light buzzing in the kitchen and my own horrific sobs as I rush to my room and fall into the perfectly made-up bed.