Page 27 of Breakaway

I pull my elbow out of his grip and keep walking, not sparing him a single glance. It doesn’t seem to bother him. He just hides his hands in his pockets and follows me.

“Where are we going?” Roman asks after a few minutes of silence.

“Wearen’t going anywhere,” I reply snidely. “I’mgoing to the chapel we went to last night. I want to fix this.”

“Fix it?”

Stopping, I glare at him. “Yes, Roman, I want to fix it. I’m not sure if you know anything about this since you’re not from here, but an annulment is possible. We were drunk as shit, with no clue what we were doing. The lack of consent because of intoxication will be easy to prove.” When he doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at me with his deep turquoise eyes, I add, “There’s no way I’m staying married to you, of all people.”

“Me of all people? What does that mean?” He narrows his eyes. The tip of his tongue darts out of his mouth, and he moistens his bottom lip.

I shrug and take a step forward, bumping into someone’s chest. The only reason I don’t fall on my ass is because of Roman’s hand on the small of my back, steadying me. Looking up, I find myself right in front of an obviously drunk guy, who’s swaying from side to side.

“Bitch, why are you standing here? People are trying to walk,” he slurs, lowering his head to look me in the eyes. “You better be?—”

It happens so fast, I don’t even notice. The guy yelps loudly as his back hits the wall, Roman holding him by his collar. “You think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” he asks menacingly, his voice just above a hiss. “Say you’re sorry.”

The guy’s eyes focus on Roman and then flash to me. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Do you forgive him?” Roman asks me, and I nod, standing as still as a statue. He takes a step back and lets go of the guy. “Molodets?1. Have a nice day.”

My mouth is agape, my fingers clutching my phone as I squeeze it harder. A hand on my lower back pushes me to start moving, and when I glance to my left, all I see is an absolutely unbothered Roman.

“That was unnecessary,” I grit through my teeth, moving away from him until his hand falls off my back.

“He was rude to you.”

“And? Didn’t you see how drunk he was? That could’ve escalated into something really ugly. Sometimes it’s better to just ignore situations like that.”

Roman squints at me, meeting my gaze. “I know how to fight, and I hate when people are rude for no reason. Drunk or not, he should’ve watched his mouth.”

I puff out my cheeks, not allowing the warmth his words caused to spread over my body. It shouldn’t turn me on—not with him at least, because he’s been pretty clear where he stands, and my attraction to him is starting to remind me of a teenage crush. Unreasonable and hopeless.

“Whatever.” Sneaking a glance at my phone, I turn right at the next intersection. “It’s not like I can force you to do anything.”

“Except marry you,” Roman says with a dry laugh, and I swat him in the stomach with an open palm. “Ouch!”

“I’m pretty sure thisbrilliantidea would’ve never crossed my mind,” I state with conviction, keeping my chin up. It doesn’t matter how tempting it is to look at him for his reaction; I need to stay focused.

“Of course, because you never would’ve marriedme, of all people.”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter under my breath, “You’re twisting my words.”

“No, I’m quoting you,” he counters, stepping closer to me to let two girls in pink wigs walk past him. His forearm brushes mine, and I tighten my grip around my phone. The assault of goosebumps scattering over my skin makes me feel hot, and I pout, annoyed with my body’s reaction. “Which actually reminds me that before we were interrupted, I asked you what you meant. Why is marrying me such a terrible thing?”

Grumbling, I pivot to my right and stop under a well-groomed palm tree. I’m not risking someone bumping into me again and this caveman getting in trouble because he can’t control himself. Being called a bitch by a total stranger is the least of my concerns right now. We’re wasting time.

Roman walks over and stops in front of me, dipping his head so our eyes are level. “So?”

“Do you want to stay married?” I ask nonchalantly, trying to play it cool so he won’t see how nervous I am.

“Of course not,” he says, shaking his head.

“Then why are we talking about what I said? It doesn’t matter.” I pinch my brows together and purse my lips. “You don’t like me; you’ve made that crystal clear. Why should we?—”

“You think I don’t like you?” Roman dips his head lower, until he’s all I see.

Nervously, I thread my fingers through my hair and shrug. “That’s definitely the impression you gave me.” Swallowing my nerves, I go for it, even if I hate how needy I sound. “Am I wrong?”

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