Page 140 of Lethal Legacy

LUCIA

“Ithought you might like to have dinner with us.”

“I can’t.” Roman cuts me off before I’ve barely finished speaking. “We’re flat out here. Some other time.” He hangs up before I have a chance to argue.

What the fuck?

I stare at the blank phone screen in frustration. It’s been like this since we got back to Malaga. Correction: it’s been like this since the day Roman and Mickey went to Hale Tech together.

I have no idea what happened between them, but something clearly did. For starters, Mickey’s now doing three days a week at school instead of five and spending the other two cloistered somewhere with Roman, not that either of them have bothered to explain to me why or what they’re doing.

Far more upsetting is that in the two weeks since we got back, I’ve gone from spending every night in Roman’s bed to sleeping alone. The nights he joins the kids for dinner, he mostly gives me the evening off. On the odd occasion when our paths actually cross, he’s polite but incredibly distant.

Every bit of the intimacy we shared at the finca is gone. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how to breach the gap.

I open the oven and put a tray of cookies inside. Baking always calms me. I’ve baked enough lately that Chef has begun complaining that I’ve made him redundant. I’ve just finished a tray ofalfajores, not least because they remind me of Roman. Part of me is hoping he’ll smell them from the elevator again and come in, like he did the first day I made them.

Maybe he just got tired of me.

I haven’t wanted to face this particular option, but it’s kind of an inescapable logic. One moment Roman was taking me for dinner, saying that he wanted it to be my choice to stay with him and making love to me like I was a precious ornament.

The moment I made it clear that I actuallywantedto be with him, he disappeared.

Classic emotional avoidance.

I was a challenge, nothing more. Roman got what he wanted and then lost interest.

I pull out the bowl of bread dough I’ve left rising on the windowsill and tip it onto the flour-covered countertop. I need to pummel something.

Is he seeing someone else?

I punch the dough with a lot more force than is required. Even imagining some other woman putting her hands on Roman makes me want to tear them both apart.

Which is dangerous. Roman isn’t mine, no matter what we were before we came back to Malaga. In the end, what have we really had? A fuckton of amazing sex and a few cozy family moments. It’s hardly the love affair of the century.

Even if it felt that way. Even if that week, it finally felt like I had a family.

Because whatever he was playing at when he handed me back that contract, I’m still technically just an employee.

Turning the dough over, I slap it into shape, biting down on the tears that keep threatening to spill. Abby’s been calling daily, but I really can’t confide in her. Papa keeps asking where Roman is. And he’s recently started to watch me with a concerned look that doesn’t bode well, so I’ve been avoiding him, too. Which is hard, since Masha has become so attached to him that she’s constantly bugging me to visit. Worst of all, Ofelia is far too perceptive for her own good. She, however, doesn’t ask me questions. She just watches me when she thinks I’m not looking, with wary, worried eyes that break my heart. I know she’s afraid I’m going to leave. The worst thing is, I can’t reassure her that I won’t. I don’t want to lie to her. And the way Roman’s been behaving, I’m not entirely sure I won’t be evicted at any moment.

Damn it.I toss the bread dough this way and that, kneading it into oblivion.This is what happens when you open up, Darya.I brush impatiently at my eyes.You never should have let your emotions become involved. You shouldn’t have agreed to this craziness in the first place.

I’m almost glad when Abby calls. “You and I are hanging out tomorrow night,” she announces. “No arguments. I know it’s your night off, and I never get to see you anymore.”

“That’s probably because you’re spending most nights underneath the tasty bodyguard.” My voice is cheery, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy. The irony is that the more distant Roman and I become, the closer Abby and Dimitry seem to be getting. From what I can tell, they’re basically head over heels in love.

I should be happy for Abby.

Iamhappy for her.

But it hurts that barely two weeks ago, I was in exactly the same place, or I thought I was. Now I just feel lonely and confused.

“Well, there is that.” Abby chuckles dirtily. “But I miss you, Luce. I want to catch up. Hear all the goss on CEO Man.”

“You may as well call him Roman. You did spend an entire week dunking him in his pool.”

“Nah.” Her Australian accent toughens up. “He might be putty in your hands, but I gotta say, he’s always gonna be CEO Man to me. That bastard is one tough nut to crack.”

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