Page 22 of Breakaway

My jaw opens; his bluntness makes my eyebrows reach my hairline. “To make my lies more believable? Are you for real?”

“How could you?” Roman presses his palm to his chest. “I’m playing the role of the perfect boyfriend, and this is what I get in return? You’re cruel.”

I purposefully trail my eyes around his body, pausing on his groin. When I meet his gaze again, I put my hands on my hips. “Perfect boyfriends give perfect orgasms. Are you up for that part too?”

His mask slips. His intense gaze bores into mine, his jawline clenching. It happens so briefly, I start thinking it was just my imagination. Then his lips morph into a cunning smile, and when he lowers his head, I know nothing good is going to leave his mouth.

“There are certain sacrifices I’m not willing to make, Malyshka,” he drawls, taking a step back. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Watching him walk away from me, I mentally scold myself.How many times does this man need to show that he’s not interested? When will you finally get it?

Dammit. Common sense is definitely something I’m lacking lately…especially when it comes to Roman.

I need a drink.

“Dare,”I say, putting my glass down on the table. It’s my sixth cocktail…I think.

“Again?” Roman asks, dipping his head. “Fifth in a row?”

Shrugging, I scan the crowded bar we’re sitting in. It’s been hours since we left the Botanical Garden and ended up here—first we went to play slots at the casino. The only thing I can say is, today isn’t my lucky day. I’m afraid to think how much money I could’ve lost if it weren’t for Roman, who dragged me away from the machines.

Being stubborn when things don’t go my way is my curse.

“What’s my dare, Roman?” I insist again.

He runs his fingers through his hair, twirling an empty glass with his other hand, the ice cubes clinking. A sudden burst of laughter from the bar makes him turn his head. I look too, noticing a bunch of girls clearly celebrating a bachelorette party.

“Okay, I’ve got a dare for you,” Roman says, and our gazes collide. “Call your dad or mom and say you’re engaged.”

The pang in my chest is blinding. The memories of Travis’s ring and my reaction are too fresh in my head. Add in my strained relationship with my parents, and this dare is a catastrophe for my not-so-sober self. I try to keep my face emotionless, but the alcohol makes it impossible. The trembling of my lips comes first, and the tightness of my throat follows, my emotions threatening to spill over any second. I sniff, wiping away a traitorous tear with the heel of my palm.

“Nevaeh?” His voice sounds softer and closer. “Malyshka?” Gently taking my chin between his thumb and index finger, Roman tilts my face up. Worry crosses his features, wrinkling his forehead, the corners of his mouth dropping. “Chert?2. I’m so sorry. That dare was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay.” I sniff louder and press my palms to my cheeks to stop the tears from spilling.

Roman’s eyes roam over my face, his jaw set hard as he studies me. His nostrils flare as he leans closer and sets his elbows on the table. “What happened between you and your ex-boyfriend? Did he not want to get married?”

He just flipped the damn switch. Uncontrollable sobs lodge in my throat, and tears stream down my face freely. Roman’s eyes round, his pupils dilating. Without any hesitation, he scoots over to me and wraps me in his arms. I hide my face in his chest, letting myself cry. The trembling of my body gradually stops, and I lean away and give him a tiny smile.

“I’m so sorry,” I hiccup.

A small smile lifts his lips. “Stop saying that. Everything is fine.” Cautiously, Roman cups my cheek, wiping away the remnants of my tears with his thumb. “What happened?”

“I’ll need another cocktail for that story.” It’s a little joke to lighten the mood, but it’s also the truth. I don’t think I can talk to him about me and Travis without alcohol.

“How about you take a second, and I’ll order us more drinks?” he says, and I rear back, hiding my face in my palms. I probably look like a total mess. “Malyshka, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

I wave him over to the bar and rush to the restroom the second he stands up. No one is pretty when they’re crying their eyes out, but I think I’m taking it to another level. Red and puffy eyes, black streaks of mascara on my cheeks. As I lock the bathroom door, the only thought in my mind is that at least I was smart enough to bring makeup wipes with me.

I wonderwhat time it is. Like, is it night already? Or just evening? I think the concept of time got totally lost the moment I downed my last cocktail. My tenth cocktail…or was it fifteenth? That Screaming Orgasm was definitely the eleventh, but then…Gah, why do I even care? I promised to never drink that muchwith someone I don’t really know, and Roman is…someone I don’t really know.

Stopping in my tracks, I press my palm to my forehead and stare in front of me. The city lights, all the hotels and casinos, mix into some monstrosity, making me nauseous. The music that flows freely from every street corner makes me want to close my ears. I’m so confused right now.

Where is Roman?

“Roman?” I yell, spinning around and immediately realizing it was a horrendous idea. Covering my mouth with my palm, I stand still and hope I won’t be puking my guts out somewhere on the Vegas Strip.

“Slava Bogu, ya tebya nashel?3.” As slowly as possible, I turn around and stare at a white T-shirt. “Nevaeh?”

---