Page 82 of Lethal Legacy

Five places.

My heart skips a beat. Does that mean Roman plans to join us?

The door opens behind me in answer.

“Just in time.” Roman’s deep voice sends a thrill down my spine. “How were rehearsals?”

“Masha is a cactus, apparently.” I turn to face him, hoping none of my recent tension shows on my face. As soon as I see his split lip and the cut over his eye, however, all thoughts of the kids’ respective parts in the upcoming Easter celebrations fly from my head.

“Oh my goodness!” I cross the room quickly. “You’re hurt! What on earth happened?” I touch his face without thinking, then immediately realize my mistake.

Roman smells of the fight, raw sweat and violence that has nothing to do with the expensive suit he’s hiding behind.

“I’m fine.” He rears back from me as if he’s been burned, glancing around the room. “Where are the children?”

“Washing up.” My hands fall back to my sides, and I take a step back. “You’re clearly not fine. At least let me dress that cut.” It’s completely unfair that the cuts only seem to enhance his physical attraction. Especially when he slips off his suit jacket and tie and rolls his sleeves up. I gulp, trying not to stare at the hard, tanned V where the shirt is unbuttoned, nor at the corded forearms. When I raise my eyes, he’s smirking at me in a way that tells me he knowsexactlywhat I’m thinking.

“It’s nothing. Just a sparring match in the ring.” Seeing my frown, he raises his eyebrows. “Doubting me, Miss Lopez?” There’s a gruff intimacy to his voice that does very dangerous things to my body.

Thankfully, the children choose that moment to come back to the dining room. They stop dead in their tracks when they see Roman.

“What happened toyou?” Ofelia asks bluntly.

“Well,” Roman says, pulling out a chair for her and waiting until all three children and I are seated before taking his own, “Dimitry criticized youralfajores, so I thought I’d better teach him a lesson.”

“You beat upDimitry?”Mickey is looking at him with something like awe.

“What’s wrong wiv my cookies?” Masha demands indignantly at the same time.

Roman’s mouth twitches. He waits until the soup has been served and the chef has withdrawn before answering.

“Sarcasm, Mickey,” he says, with something almost approaching a smile. “That means I was joking,” he adds, winking at Masha. “Dimitry says your cookies are the best he’s ever had.”

She beams and tucks into her soup.

“So what did happen, then?” Ofelia hasn’t touched her plate. She’s still staring at Roman’s face, and her own is quite pale. Suddenly I recognize the hard light in her blue eyes for what it is: fear.

“Your godfather is fine, sweetheart.” I touch her arm briefly. “He and Dimitry had a sparring match in the boxing ring, apparently.”

“Seriously?” Ofelia’s eyes narrow, and she looks between Roman and me with a piercing glare so like his it makes me uncomfortable.

Both of us nod.

Seemingly satisfied, she picks up her spoon and clatters her soup around the bowl, shaking her head.

“Men are such idiots,” she mutters. But I see the color slowly returning to her face, and my heart twists. Ofelia has buried her father and believes that loving her mother will place Inger in danger. Roman needs to understand how fragile she is, how deeply afraid of losing people.

Maybe I’ll get a chance to explain that before he makes me leave.

“I’m a cactus,” says Masha importantly.

“Shut up,” Ofelia hisses to her sister. “He doesn’t care—”

“I didn’t know there were cacti in the Easter story.” Pretending not to hear Ofelia, Roman turns to Masha inquiringly. “What does the cactus do, exactly, at Easter time?” He catches my eye, and I try not to laugh.

“I’m on the back of a twuck,” Masha says. “We’re singing.”

“A float?” Roman’s smile fades and he turns to me. “Did you know about this?”

---