“That’s not enough.” My stomach churns as my tongue rolls around each syllable. Roman Riviera was my everything once, and I never thought I’d want more. “And if you were really working on it, you wouldn’t entertain the idea of going after Vargas.”
“The fucker—”
I cut him off. “Unlock the door, Roman. This conversation is over.”
“We aren’t done.” His piercing stare heats the side of my face.
“It’s over.” I don’t deserve his kindness, and I don’t deserve this torment. I try the lock myself, and it opens. “Do whatever you want; I won’t try to stop you. Just remember that I gave you an out, and you chose not to take it.”
Chapter 30
ROMAN
It’s silent.
I focus on the sound of her breathing to remind myself she’s alive and here—safe is another question entirely. It doesn’t matter what I say or how many times I say it, she doesn’t respond.
The only form of communication I’ve gotten from her is a scathing glare that could end a nuclear war when I slipped into the bathroom with her. But I barely noticed it. Or the wound on my arm that’s bleeding through the bandage. She can look at me however she wants because all I see is the patchwork of blue and red coloring her cheek. A chill strips another layer of warmth from me every time I see it.
I’m not letting her out of my sight for a second. From this day on, there will never be a moment where we aren’t breathing the same air. I’ll never make that type of fuck up again.
I’m tempted to step into the shower, carry Bella to the car and get as far away from Chicago as we can get. But first, we are in a silent agreement that she needs to wash that fucker’s scent off her.
Just thinking about that asshole’s face makes my blood boil.
Vargas.
I can’t believe I was so stupid. The warning signs were right there, and I ignored them. I can’t for the life of me think of excuses for why I did. I’ll never forgive myself because Bella has paid the price for it.
Vargas needs to be taken out, but I won’t do it at the expense of losing her.
The shower tap turns off, and the curtain opens, showing off her naked body, dripping in water and steam. She doesn’t acknowledge me when she steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body.
“Bella,” I say, standing from the seat.
She passes me without a second glance.
Fuck.
“Please, talk to me.”
She doesn’t, getting dressed in a new change of clothes as if she’s decided we’re leaving the city tonight.
I sigh at her back. “Damien will be here in ten minutes to drop off our IDs.”
Nothing. No response.
“Bella, I love you,” I whisper, reaching for her chin while holding a bag of ice. “Please, just look at me.”
Without turning, she elbows me in the jaw when I touch her. I let her hit me. I’d let her kick me and punch me all she likes. I deserve it for putting that bruise on her face. I don’t let her move far away from me. After several careful maneuvers on my part, and several hits on hers, I manage to get her on my lap until her wiggling stops.
She winces every time the bag of ice moves on her face, and I feel every flinch like her pain is my own. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her—making everything I’ve ever done wrong up to her.
My heart sinks below the earth when her stare grows blank, as if she found a spot within her consciousness to disappear into where I can’t follow her. I hold her tighter, both wanting her grounded back with me and wanting her safe, wherever her head is at.
I kiss her forehead and inhale her scent, rocking us slowly, which does nothing to make her relax. We stay like that until a knock on the door has Bella leaping to her feet and scurrying behind me. The guilt that hits me hurts like a motherfucking bitch.
A knock made her jump out of her skin. A single knock.
“It’s just Damien,” I assure Bella.
Her gaze bounces to mine, giving me a single, tense nod. I open the door and Damien holds out a brown paper package.
“It’s all there.” He nods behind me. “How is she?”
What the fuck do I say to that? It’s none of your business? She’d be alright if you actually watched her? She was scared of your knock because of how badly I fucked up?
“Fine,” I settle on.
“The rest of your cut is in there.”
We both stand in silence, then I ask, “Vargas?”
“I’ll deal with it,” he answers simply.