Page 29 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Ren

R oma comes over again. I’m waking up from another nap when he asks what I need.

“I want to take a shower.” It’s been over a day and my skin is sweat-soaked and my hair matted. Without a word, he turns on the shower.

I’d like to say the effort is because I’m hurt and whatever weird relationship we’re in is new. But this is Roma.

If he spots something in the store he thinks you’ll like, he’ll buy it for you. If you gain a new hobby, he gains a new hobby. If you look tired while running errands he’ll make a pit stop and get coffee.

It’s why I struggled all those years ago when nice guy Roma turned out to only be interested in me because his dad ordered him to date me.

I tilt my head up to the showerhead. The tears I shed are different this time.

Sunday night’s sobs wrecked me.

When I hurt my wrist, the tears snapped from the physical pain .

Right now, the hot tears have a cleansing quality I can’t understand.

I’m on my ass. My friends love me but they can’t stand me right now. I’ve got a growing business that I can’t decide if it’s time to scale up. And Roma is currently on my couch.

I find him reading a romance book, the novels now stacked neatly by the couch instead of all over the floor.

“This is fucking filthy,” he says under his breath. “Are you ready for dinner?”

My face is hot and blotchy from the shower, but I nod. He makes me a grilled cheese sandwich and I eat ice cream for dessert.

It’s not even a question again about whether or not he’s staying over. He rinses off in the shower, getting rid of the city’s grime before his body slides under the sheets. My back is to him as I try to sleep on the side I prefer.

I pull the sheets close, cocooned comfortably. Roma’s hand softly strokes my back. A caress that doesn’t demand anything further.

It occurs to me that in the past two days, we’ve been more domestic than we ever were. We’re not young kids fresh out of college. We’re old homebodies who prefer comfort to the chaos of the world.

“What is it?” I ask a little while later. I turn my head slightly, not wanting to move my arm.

There’s a crack of space between us like he’s afraid my limb will fall off if he gets too close.

Yesterday, he watched me cry when I struggled with the lid belonging to the pill bottle. I sniffled and stood there when he finally took it from my hands and opened it in two seconds flat. Then I gobbled the pill up and realized just how easy it is to become an addict.

“I can feel you thinking,” I tell him in the dark. He’s on his back and the sheets move as he stretches out. “What is it? ”

He rolls over so he’s facing me, though the sliver of space remains. Lightly, his hand runs down my spine again. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. The bed is going to break with the weight of whatever you’re worrying about over there.”

“We can talk about it later.”

“We cannot.”

I’ve spent the last five years directly telling mafia men to piss off if they annoy me. If something is bothering him, we’re having it out right here, right now.

“My mom talked to you about the car shop?”

He hasn’t brought up my lunch with his mother. I’m guessing when he saw me crying over the pain pills he came to the conclusion the time wasn’t right.

But the conversation with Yelena replayed in my mind over and over again until my sprained wrist took over my life.

“Are you going to do it?” I ask.

The sheets rustle. “I want to yeah.”

“Owning a business is hard.”

“Yeah.”

Something in his voice makes me ask, “What’s wrong.”

“My dad thinks it’s a stupid idea.”

Your dad’s stupid, I think to myself.

“But I want to do it,” he says and I hear the determination.

“It’ll be hard,” I tell him frankly. “But it’s so worth it, having something of your own. Write out a business plan and set goals. It’s better to fail at trying than not fail at all.”

“You really think. . .”

“Yes, Roma.” I roll my eyes, though, I’m still turned away on my side. “Zimin’s have an annoying habit of being successful at everything they do anyway. Open your own car shop. You can do it.”

His hand glides along my spine .

I pull the duvet closer to my face, my cheek sinking into the pillow. “But I can’t have anything to do with it.”

The back of his knuckles stop their caress.

“I mean—”my hand tangles with the sheet—“if you do this, it’s got to be for yourself. Not because you think it’s the only way.”

“The only way?”

The dark grows taut between us.

“I love my job. I know I’m having issues right now but?—”

“Issues—” he tries to ask.

I never told him everything and now’s not the time.

“But I love my work. Obviously if we’re together there might be some. . .”

“I just told you I’m stepping back from the family business,” he says.

“Exactly. But it’s got to be for you. Not because you’re dropping everything for a girl.”

“You’re not just a girl.”

“I’m swooning.” I don’t think he appreciates the sarcasm. “I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life all up in the air. If you want to open a garage, it’s got to be for you. Not because you’re proving a point to me.”

Silence buzzes around us.

Isolde told me I’d have to let go of the past. My entire line of work is a scarier version of forgive but don’t forget. You always remember the mob bosses that screw you over. Yet, I somehow ended up in bed with Roma again.

The bed shifts and I close my eyes knowing before he even says the words.

“Can I tell you my side of things,” he whispers. “And not because I’m offering you excuses or anything. There aren’t words for how fucking deeply ashamed I am of what happened. But can I at least tell you my side of things?”

“What happened?” I try to keep the sarcasm out of the words but fail. Bitterness is a well-trained habit. But I regret it as soon as they come out. “Sorry. I. . . okay.”

Roma toys with the ends of my hair.

“I’d just graduated with my business degree.

It’s a fairly standard major in our line of work.

Elijah was still over in Oxford and Max of course graduated top of his class and he went straight to work.

He’s a complete stoic asshole but color me fucking surprised when it turns out everyone for the most part liked him.

He’s that good at his job and always fair to the people around him because there is no favoritism when you play by the rules. ”

I don’t know if the Zimins have ever played by the rules. But I understand his point. Max does things by the book.

“Aunt Macy’s death surprised everyone. I’m not sure why because she’d been on death’s doorstep the past fifteen years. But I remember the ripple when the news came through. Everyone assumed Cliff would keep at it and I don’t think people had much of an issue.”

That part is a lie but I keep my mouth shut. Lev obviously always liked Cliff. But it turned out my cousin didn’t have as many allies in the city as he thought he did.

“Then we heard about you. The long lost niece who showed up from the Midwest.” He plays with a strand of my hair. “Dad can find opportunities in almost everything. Dima thought he was stupid.”

My fingers dig into the thick duvet. I shouldn’t take it as a compliment—I don’t. But it’s nice knowing at least one brother had some sense.

“Dad said you didn’t know anything about this world.

You’d either get yourself killed or the Feds would show up at some point.

He’d wanted to know more about Aunt Macy’s operation for a while.

And keeping an eye on the triggerman throughout the city can be convenient.

Plus, who wouldn’t want to control contracts between the different syndicates. ”

The gentle strokes through my hair feel good but I can’t relax.

“When Dad brought the idea up, I agreed easily. I wanted to impress him. I’m not like Elijah and Max with their cold calculating skills. I’m the son who went through a poetry phase. But quoting Romeo and Juliet wasn’t exactly winning me any awards.”

I listen to his breath, as he gently brushes my hair.

“Not to sound like a fucking sap but I sat down at the table that first time I ever met you and fell straight off a cliff.”

My knees curl closer to my chest.

“You goaded me into ordering a meal because you thought Fujimori’s deserved the business.

The con was easy because I wanted to keep coming back.

I’d never found it so easy to talk to someone.

About everything and anything. But it wasn’t that burst of ‘I’ve just met you and need to tell you everything in my soul’.

I experienced a type of calm I’d never felt before.

I came to lunch one time in between your meetings.

You looked annoyed but then since I looked like a kicked puppy you let me sit down next to you in the booth.

You didn’t speak to me because you were writing in your planner.

Honestly, I think you were too busy and overwhelmed from the morning to spend time talking to me.

“So I sat there in silence, answering emails on my phone. At least for the first few minutes. It’s like what people tell you.

About wanting to just spend time with a person.

I could’ve sat there the rest of the day.

I’d have helped Abe bus tables and gotten you a refill so long as I could just be near you. ”

I remember being annoyed when he showed up, but it’d cooled quickly. I wanted to spend more time with him too.

“Then I saw your open planner and I peeked. It was exactly what Dad wanted out of this little charade. And I won’t lie, I didn’t necessarily feel horrible at first about what I was doing.

I’d like to say it’s because I was stupid.

I wanted my dad’s love and affection. Clearly I needed therapy ASAP. ”

Roma shifts on the bed, the blankets rustling.