Page 70 of Stolen By the Don

“Wait—” My brows furrow. “Roman didn’t come back last night? Or, sorry—” I shake my head, stuck on technicalities. “This morning?”

I knew he didn’t return last night, because I was up till three. And one of the reasons I couldn’t sleep was because I couldn’t wrap my head around his persistent absence.

Two weeks.That’s how long he’s been away, almost like I’m the plague, and he’s scared of contracting a deadly virus.

“No,” she says. “He didn’t. Would you like anything for lunch?”

I’m lost in thought, so I don’t hear her question until it echoes. I snap out of it, blinking. “Yeah. I’d like something simple, please.”

She gestures to the washing. “I need to change the sheets for Mr. Volkov’s room, but I’ll be out in a minute.”

As she walks away, I take the rest of the stairs one step at a time, hitting the last with a thud.Where’s Roman?The last time we spoke, I overheard him talking about my father.

Then he brought me an ice pack and made me tea. I blurted out a memory I hadn’t remembered in over a decade. It felt like we had a moment, and then he ended the conversation abruptly, leaving me with a feeling of loneliness that I couldn’t shake off.

The next morning, he was gone, and Leo hasn’t been around either. I didn’t care. Sure, I thought about Roman a few times, fleeting moments where my mind indulged in teasing me with certain…details. But he didn’t return.

I went to bed.

The next day, the same. He didn’t show up, and neither did Leo. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I drank the eucalyptus. Then the next. Then the next. At some point, it felt like I was going crazy, coming up with theories for his absence. Switching tea for coffee because I ran out didn’t help either.

Did he find my father,and he’s keeping him alive so he can torture him?It would make sense—to stay away so I won’t ask him questions, and so he can keep an eye on Marco Ricci simultaneously.

But Leo?—

Both of them being away at the same time makes no sense.

I shake my head, tossing away my new theories as I walk to the kitchen to wait for Polina. “Why should I care?” I mutter. “He’s dead to me.”

“Roman?”

I whirl around, and a cheekily smiling Leo stands by the door, his hand shoved into his pocket.

“Where did you come from?” I demand.

He shrugs, walking in. “Beats me. I think I was summoned. What were you saying about me, Isabella?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That I hoped you’d disappear forever?”

He winces, touching his chest. “Ouch. That stung. I thought you and I were friends, but…” He smacks his lips. “I get it.”

“No,” I hiss, folding my arms. His amusement only irks me. “You don’t get it. You don’t understand anything, and I’d like you to leave me alone.Please.”

“It’s Roman, isn’t it?” Leo asks quietly. “You want to know why he’s been away.”

I scoff, turning away so he doesn’t see the lie I’m about to tell. “Why should I care? My life doesn’t revolve around him.”

He makes a sound, clearly showing that he doesn’t believe me, but I don’t defend myself further. “Either way, you’re not needed,” I say instead. “Unless you have another reason for being here?” I shake my head, walking to the fridge, pretending I have business there. “Never mind. It’s not my house.”

“But it is,” Leo argues. “You’re his wife. If anything, you have more right over it than Roman does. And I’m here because I thought you needed company.”

My hand pauses as it touches a bottle of grape juice. I look over my shoulder. “Company?”

Leo nods, smiling like a pleased Cheshire cat. “Yup. I’m sure it gets boring staying in a house like this. I know I’d lose my shit.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s offering genuinely or out of pity, but I’m tempted to believe it’s the latter. I’m not delusional enough to think spending one day together suddenly makes us friends…in the way that he’s Roman’s best friend and confidant.

But—

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