Page 6 of Heartfelt Pain (Ruling Love #3)

Roma

“ C are to explain the sad face, brother?” Elijah asks.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m moping on my brother’s couch. Is it a new low for me? Probably. But I can’t seem to fix my life.

I’ve gone to work. Tinkered around with my Barracuda down in the shop. I even called my mother back, though, the call only lasted a couple of minutes.

Uncle Dima’s words keep playing in my ear. His worry and concern bit into me. He probably thought he was being helpful, but it’s had the opposite effect. I’m even more morose than usual.

Something happens on the TV screen and the crowd at the hockey game goes wild. When I turn I find a pair of gray eyes on me.

“Do you think I’m sad?” I ask my brother.

“Pathetically,” he replies with little empathy.

Though, I know that’s a lie. Most believe my twin or I have more heart than Elijah. But Max is an empty cold vessel unless Russet or Sailor are around. And I’m well. . . me.

Elijah isn’t some tin man. He’s cold and calculating, but he’s got more heart than any of the Zimin brothers.

My earliest memories are in the form of Elijah helping Marnie, our chef, in the kitchen.

He demanded we tell him when other kids gave us trouble.

Not because he loved retribution like most think.

He’s always had a drive in him, this need to protect his younger brothers.

He smiles more now, thanks to Lennie. She officially moved in a couple of months back.

Elijah’s space is crowded with romance books and there’s a hot pink fluffy blanket on the back of the couch.

Albert, the Bernese mountain dog, isn’t watching hockey with us.

He’s in the bedroom, steadfast in his devotion to Lennie.

Elijah has a home. It hits me more and more each time I come over.

“What is it little brother?” Elijah asks.

I shake my head, planning on blowing him off.

But he presses. “I have ways of making you talk.”

“Lennie won’t like blood stains on the rug.”

“There’s an entire empty warehouse below.”

“What are you planning on doing with it?” I ask. He’s renovated the top floor. It’s a mixture of exposed brick, green potted plants, and some sort of sport constantly playing in the background.

“It doesn’t matter.” Elijah crosses a leg over his knee. He’s got on a pair of trousers and a button-down. “Much like your attempt of misdirection. Shall I call Maxim?”

“No.” I sink into the leather couch, ignoring my brother’s gaze. Two hockey players wail at each other.

I fucked Ren’s life up.

Those are the near-constant words berating me each and every day. But Uncle Dima’s visit has dislodged a truth.

The past five years have bled together and I’ve got nothing to show for it.

Ren on the other hand has a successful business. She has friends. I know she hangs out with Lennie and Russet at some book club they’ve created.

Every crumb I get, I hear about her hanging out with Ben and Abe. Jane Fujimori treats her like her own daughter.

Frizzy pricks of longing dance in my chest when I think about Ren. I don’t come into contact with her often. But I’ve seen her at Fujimori’s. She wears black pants that fit like a second skin against her tight ass. She stopped wearing sneakers at some point and now only wears stilettos.

At first, I took this as proof that I had ruined her somehow. That I forced the girl into painful heels.

Except the truth is I don’t dictate Ren’s shoes.

She’s moved on. Her suit might be her armor, but it worked. She has a thriving career, much to Dad’s chagrin. Friends. A life in the city.

And what the fuck do I have?

I’m hanging out with my brother on a Saturday night. I don’t have friends. I don’t like my job.

It’s not Ren’s life I fucked up all those years ago—it's mine.

Ren took those five years between now and when we first met and made something of herself.

I’ve done nothing. I’ve got nothing.

I am nothing.

No wonder Uncle Dima offered to take me to see a therapist.

“Do you remember my old mortal enemy?” Elijah asks.

I pick my head off the couch. “The one that just came back from Oxf?—”

“No, not that piece of shit,” Elijah snaps. My shoulders sag back into the couch cushions. “Leopold Stuart.”

“Oh, that one,” I mutter. In all fairness, my older brother picks up mortal enemies like they’re collectibles. “The one Adeline killed just six months ago. ”

I smirk at Elijah’s reaction. Noise catches in the back of his throat, his steely gray eyes narrowing. He wanted the shot, but Adeline took it from him.

“Yes, that one.” Elijah’s tone is more clipped now. “I quite liked you then you know.”

My forehead wrinkles. “You liked. . . wait, what?”

Elijah sighs like he can’t believe I’m not keeping up. “You joked around with blood splattered all over your face. I found it glorious.”

I wanted to get tested in case any of said blood gave me a disease.

“That’s what you found glorious?” I ask.

Elijah shook with rage. I’d been with him when he found out Lennie got kidnapped. When he found out Ivan had been shot and killed.

I have no qualms about violence, but I often go out of my way to avoid it. However, that might have more to do with the fact that I try my best to avoid anything my father wants done. If Elijah, Dima, and Max want to do everything Dad bids them to then that’s on them.

“Let yourself be.”

I blink, realizing its Elijah speaking and not the television.

“You can’t change the past, Roman,” Elijah says. His serious face is illuminated by blues and greens thanks to the TV. “But you can stop letting it hold you back.”

Something like a snort comes out of me. “Leave it to you to become a life coach.”

“My advice has always been gold, little brother.”

Hardly, but I let him think it.

“Is there more on your mind?” Elijah asks.

I’m saved from having to answer when Lennie walks in. Albert pitter-patters over, bumping my hand with his head in demand for pets. Who am I to deny him ?

My hands stroke over his fur as I carefully study Lennie. “You look. . .”

“Do you like it?” Lennie twirls around.

Lennie’s wearing a skintight black dress. It’s strapless and cups her chest. She’s got her hair up, her smile bright.

I cast an eye at Elijah. Two seconds ago he was a supportive, caring older brother. Right now, he might lean back in his seat, appearing unbothered, but I doubt it.

“What’s got you so dressed up?” I ask, casting another careful glance at Elijah.

He smiles and grabs Lennie’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. It’s one of the many signs of affection between them now.

“It’s girl’s night,” Lennie declares. She wobbles on a pair of high heels but stays standing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lennie wearing anything other than a pair of sneakers.

“Wow.” It’s the only thing I can think to say. She’s wearing a thousand-dollar dress, so the term ‘girl’s night’ seems a little underwhelming. “Well, have fun.”

Her smile brightens her whole face again. I don’t know if it’s because of the dress or because of her new home, but her self-assurance is clear as day.

I know she’s seeing a therapist. Maybe I should ask her for a recommendation.

Lennie leans down as best she can, pressing a kiss to the top of Elijah’s head. I didn’t think Elijah would ever be one for tiny kisses, but I swear the bastard leans into it.

“Bye, I’ll be back later,” she calls over her shoulder.

I remain glued to my spot on the couch as I watch Elijah. He didn’t even get up. His eyes don’t follow his girlfriend as she sways down the front hallway, turning on a light so she can see. There’s the sound of her messing with her purse and keys.

I do everything to blend into my surroundings. Elijah doesn’t share his toys. The fact that he remains calm as Lennie heads out the door in that dress. . . I’m a little concerned.

Sports analysis fills the room. There’s a tiny smile on Elijah’s lips as he looks over, grabbing his phone. “You were saying, brother.”

My sad situation doesn’t need any more commentary. Plus, I’m slightly weirded out by whatever the hell is going on.

Albert’s head turns toward the front hallway like he’s debating if he should go stand guard. There’s the sound of the lock turning, but then there’s a slight scuffle.

“You used to have a sense of humor,” Elijah tells me. He props his head up with his hand, his knees swaying side to side. He messes idly with his phone in his hand. “I thought you told some lovely jokes that day with Leopold.”

It’s unnerving how he keeps saying that asshole’s name.

I think out of courtesy Uncle Dima and Dad called the Stuarts and offered them his body.

Otherwise, we’d have gotten rid of the remains in a way that would never lead back to us.

As it was, the Stuarts quietly took back Leopold’s body, more than happy to let the matter remain at rest.

Lennie’s heels echo. There’s a disgruntled noise and it sounds like she’s struggling with the door.

“Why are we talking about Leopold?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet in case it upsets Lennie.

Elijah doesn’t seem concerned. “Because you’re a bloodthirsty monster, Roma. Deep down you know it. You let yourself play that day. That’s a good tip for you. Let yourself play more.”

A frustrated sigh rips from Lennie. The door heaves and something clicks. A dull thud bangs like she might have kicked at it.

“Stop messing with the fucking door, Elijah!”

She stomps back into the room. There’s no longer a festive glow. Her hands are balled up into fists and a strand of dark hair has fallen from her bun.

“What love?” Elijah looks over in abject surprise.

She’s not fooled. “I will not be kept locked in a cage by a fucking caveman. Open, the fucking door, Elijah.”

He frowns. “Is it not working? Just turn the lock.”

Lennie straightens, furious eyes burning brighter. “You’re messing with the locks every time I try to open them.”

Elijah looks up from his phone, the picture of innocence.

Yeah, I knew there’d be no way in hell, he’d let Lennie leave the house wearing a dress like that.

I pick myself off the couch. “I don’t want anything to do with whatever type of foreplay this is.”

I go to grab my coat and leave.

Lennie rolls her eyes. “I told you it was girl’s night.”

“You said as much,” Elijah replies.

“You knew I was going out,” she argues, crossing her arms.

“What happened to good old fashioned slumber parties,” Elijah asks.

“We’re not twelve,” Lennie snipes back. “We’re going for a drink.”

“Where?” Elijah asks.

Lennie’s cheeks glow, a pink flush breaking out.

“Don’t be shy, love,” Elijah says and I take it as another sign to get the hell out of there.

“Elijah!” Lennie says his name in a hushed tone. Her eyes flash to me. But she doesn’t say it in an ‘I’m embarrassed to be flirting in front of your brother’ type of tone.

My steps falter as I make eye contact with Lennie. We get on most of the time.

Lennie straightens at the eye contact. “It’s just drinks,” she says again, this time to me.

I shrug, but I know I’m frowning. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Len. I’ve never asked you to hide your friendship with Ren.”

Her brow knits together. It’s one of many concerned stares I’ve received lately.

“Have a good night,” I tell her, turning back to the door.

Elijah clears his throat. It must be my imagination but I swear I hear a tiny thump, like Lennie’s just punched my brother in the shoulder.

I turn back.

Elijah rubs a finger over his lower lip, barely concealing his shit-eating smirk. “Don’t you wish to know where the drinks are happening at?”

Lennie’s chest lifts and falls, her brow still wrinkled.

“Where?” I ask her.

“Hartright’s,” she replies in a small voice.

I chew the inside of my lip. “You really thought Elijah would be okay with you heading off to a sex club?”

She’s fucking dreaming. This time when I turn back toward the door, I don’t let myself stop.

Rain lingers in the air, making this insufferable city more muggy than it needs to be as I walk outside.

Ren is planning on going to a sex club tonight. Hartright. Russet told me about it. It’s a high-class place where fantasies come true.

The girls have been there before. Lennie went out with them one night. I didn’t know they were making a habit of it, though.

My fists clench as I jam them into my pockets.

You either have to get over it or get her back.

That’s what Uncle Dima said. I didn’t take him seriously. I still don’t take it seriously.

But as I walk down the street, away from Elijah’s happy home, I’m confronted with options.

I can go back to my empty apartment over my garage and try to get over it. Get over whatever this nasty, gnawing beast in my chest is.

Or I can get her back.

I already know deep down in my soul, she’ll never let me take her heart again. Simply, because she no longer has one since I shattered it to bits five years ago.

The statement isn’t said out of overconfidence. If my chest is hollow then I know hers is too.

I assumed our affair was over. I’ve waited all these years for the lingering wound to scab over into a scar.

Dima’s voice urges me on. Get her back.

Except the twisted soul in me changes the words until they feel right. Until they feel better.

Take her. Take Ren Callahan and make her mine. Something softer whispers back to the needy, vengeful beast inside me. She already is.