Page 83 of Beautifully Damned
I never thought of it the way Mikhail put it. Truth is, I don’t want to think of the past anymore. All I’m thinking about is, what if I let myself rot long enough for someone else—someone stronger—to step in and take Ayla from me?
No.
I may not be worthy of her, but that doesn’t mean she gets a choice in who owns her. She doesn’t get to belong to another man in this lifetime, or any other.
That’s why I stand. My body aches, but the fire is back in my chest. I’ll bulk up again. I’ll beg for her forgiveness.
Mikhail senses that no part of me wants to talk about the past anymore, and he lets out a small, forced chuckle. “You’ve got a mountain of groveling ahead of you, brother.”
“You’re right.”
I turn toward the bathroom, but his hand clamps around my wrist. His grip is firm, reluctant to let go.
“Roman,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry. I never saw it. I never noticed. If I had…” His jaw tightens. “If I had, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“Even if you had noticed—what then? What could you have possibly done?”
He doesn’t answer. He lets go, exhaling. “Thank you for everything, brother. And I do love you.”
My lip curls faintly. “I’m fond of you, too, Mikhail.” But the word “love” is only reserved for one person in my book. Hedoesn’t take offense, patting my shoulder and leaving me to my thoughts.
I strip, shower, and let the water sting me back to life. Slick my hair back. Dress sharp. A man preparing for war.
Downstairs, Elena exhales in relief when she sees me, as though she’s been holding her breath for days. Then Lola rushes to me, colliding against my chest. I place a hand on her back, patting awkwardly. When she pulls away, her palm smacks hard against my arm.
“Don’t ever do that again,” she snaps, teeth bared.
A ghost of a smile plays at my lips. I have grown fond of my sister-in-law, even if she pisses me off sometimes. “I won’t.”
She smooths a stray strand of hair from my forehead and mutters, “Go get your girl.”
I don’t need more than that.
I drive through the night, until the city melts into quiet roads, until I reach the house I bought for Ayla. Away from the Bratva, close to her university.
I park outside. Step out. Sit in front of her door. She’s just beyond these walls, breathing the same air. So close my chest aches.
For the first time in days, I close my eyes and sleep without nightmares.
?Chapter LIV?
Ayla
When I left yesterday, I told myself it was over. Despite how disappointed the Bratva was, I needed space. Distance.
But when I unlock my front door the next morning, a heavy body slumps forward, falling past the frame and into my hallway.
Roman’s curled on my doorstep, his face gaunt, his shoulders slouched against the wood. His eyes peel open, red-rimmed and heavy with exhaustion.
“Roman.” My voice cracks. “What are you doing here?”
He rubs a hand over his face, groggy from the abrupt wake-up. “I missed you.”
I press a hand against his arm to steady him. “You need to go back. They need you.”
He takes my hand before I can pull it away, turns it, and presses his mouth to the inside of my wrist. His eyes flick up, dark and almost boyish. “Not even a little excited to see me?”
He’s dangerous when he’s brutal, but his tenderness is what I can never defend myself against.
