Page 57 of Ruinous Need

“That’s nice,” she smiles weakly. Her eyes are closed and her hands curled against my bare chest. “You’re nice, Viktor. I know you don’t think so, but I disagree.”

Her words make me want to hold her tighter and never let go.

I doze off with Lisette asleep on top of me, using me like a human heat-pad. If I could sleep like this every night, I wouldn’t mind.

But I can barely cope when she cries out in pain or I have to watch her face scrunch up in agony. She’s trembling again. Her face is pale when she looks up at me.

I bring over the trash can just as she starts to retch. I can’t fathom how bad the pain must be that it’s making her puke. I stroke her back and try to calm her shaking.

“Sorry,” she says weakly. “It’s really gross, I know. The pain upsets my stomach.”

“Lisette. Don’t apologize. I think you need medicine.”

This needs to stop. Right now.

“At home, I have painkillers,” she says tentatively.

Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Lisette. This is the Bratva. We do organized crime. Whatever drug you need, I can get it.”

“I didn’t think that extended to medical drugs.” Her voice shakes at the end and she brings a hand to her stomach.

“Hospitals are a big client of ours. What do you need?”

She tells me the name of the painkiller, and asks for a heat pad too.

I press a kiss to her cheek and tuck her into bed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I might be useless in stopping her own body from hurting her, but the one thing I can do is provide Lisette with drugs and medical equipment.

On the way out, I radio Markov to open up one of the medical supply warehouses.

Daria watches me go.

“Go inside and help Lisette,” I tell her. “If she wants anything — water, tea, a bath, she’ll need help.”

CHAPTER 22

LISETTE

I’M NOW AT the stage of endo pain where the ache in my stomach is easing, but not enough that I can sleep easily.

I consider taking another painkiller but set the bottle down.

I don’t like the way they make me feel drowsy. The brain fog from endo is enough to deal with on its own, without feeling numb and glassy on top of it.

With my head foggy for the last few days, the situation with Viktor has become even more muddled.

When he touches me, it’s like he never wants to let me go. And he clearly feels strongly about me, or he wouldn’t be so angry whenever he believes my safety is at risk.

But every time I say something to him approaching affection, he clams up and walks away. His tenderness the other night was followed by standoffishness. He dropped the painkillers off, kissed my forehead, and then looked like he hated himself.

Then I woke up last night, and he was cradling me while I sobbed with pain. It helps, to have him there, and I want to believe it means he really does feel something.

The back and forth gives me whiplash.

“Viktor.” I drag him down to the couch to sit beside me. Evenwhile I’m in pain, I don’t like to stay in my room.

At least if I’m out here there’s a chance that I get to see him.