Page 137 of Destined for the Devil
“I love when you’re naked for me, Angel.” His whisper fannedthe skin on my shoulder as he pulled down my dress, letting it pool at my feet. His gaze traveled my body, taking it all in. Even with my scars…Roman loved every inch of me.
Slowly, our bodies became one, our eyes focused only on each other. Roman whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and I listened intently, crying and smiling all at once, drunk on his love and affection, and elated from being in his arms.
His fingers were gentle, sliding across my hot skin; over all the scars he’d kissed every morning and night. When his hands gripped my thighs and he pulled me into his lap, I melted into him, my hands on his cheeks and his crimson lips on mine.
I’d never forget that night. Not his words, not his touch, not his eyes.
His love was carved into my skin as deep as my scars.
“To recap.” I looked over Roman’s silly smile as we sat in his office a month after our wedding, my legs in his lap, discussing potential honeymoon destinations. “We both agree on Iceland, Japan, South America—basically the whole worl—”
But I was interrupted when the door to the office suddenly swung open, and Sergei barreled in. His shirt was untucked, and he was all red in the face, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of us both.
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” He waved a hand at me.
We hadn’t seen him since coming back, and while he was usually put together, something felt off about him. He dropped into an armchair, both of us waiting to hear what he had to say so he could leave.
Weeks prior, Roman told me Sergei confessed to killing his sister. I was horrified at the story. Nauseous and unable to quell my tears. Shocked wasn’t the right word to describe my state.
"Why on earth did you come to Italy withhim?!" I wondered out loud after Roman's story.
"Because I knew he’d fulfill my wishes. I knew he wouldn't disobey, but clearly, I didn't know your resolve."
Neither did I. I never knew I had that kind of resolve. I never knew I had that much anger inside me. I never knew I could take a life.
Sergei sat across from us and blabbered on, not making a lot of sense. “…after Italy, it’s like the whole thing shifted, you know? It’s neither here nor there. I mean, I-I don’t even know how to continue on with work after what happened, and what’s more, I don’t want to—like something is eating away at me, and why on earth did you guys sneak around like that, huh?” Sergei couldn’t even take a breath; he just talked nonsense without pause. “I mean, fine, there are things…things that happened, but I-I think I should know about you getting married at least!”
What a delusional psycho, thinking that we would tell him about our wedding or about our lives.
But then Sergei’s head slumped down, and he took a deep breath in, finally spilling what was on his soul after a short pause. “I’m ending it with Lena.” He confessed in the quiet office, neither Roman nor I able to respond even a word. “You two, with your fucking stupid fairy tale, Romeo and Juliet love, made me realize…that I should just let her go.”
He raised his gaze to us; his eyes filled with honesty for the first time. “What the fuck are we doing together? Just torturing each other. She knows I don’t love her,” he added bitterly and tagged on another tidbit. “And she’s picked up on the fact that I’ve been fucking everyone but her for years. And she’spissed.”
Roman slid his hand on my shin, watching Sergei quietly, both of us waiting for him to leave. But then Sergei narrowed his eyes on me. “You fucking told her, didn’t you? What I said to you? That’s really what upset our little house of cards. Why’d you do that? You can’t take a fuckingjoke?!”
Roman sat up and opened his mouth to defend me, but just then, the door burst open, and there stood Lena, pure rage in her eyes. Her face was all red and tear-streaked, but that’s not what caught my attention—she had a gun in her hand.
Before anyone could react, before anyone could utter a single word, she rushed over to Sergei and aimed right at his chest.
The shot was loud, violent…and deadly.
I froze on the couch, hands clamped over my mouth, as Roman shot up from his seat and tore the gun from Lena’s hand. Sergei clutched the hole in his chest, blood seeping through his fingers, regret clouding his eyes.
"Lena..." he gasped. "Why..."
But his question was left unanswered. Sergei’s last breath rattled out of him, and the silence rang loud in the room, all of us watching him collapse forward onto the soft carpet.
My heart pounded, and my mind was barely catching up with the events in front of me, and yet…it made sense.
Lena stood there trembling, looking down at her dead husband, her gut-wrenching sobs echoing between us. Roman shoved her gently into a chair before walking over to Sergei and checking the pulse on his neck, as if this was some routine wellness checkup.
"I'm going—I'm going to leave.” Lena sobbed out, trying to make a sentence. "I'm taking the kids, and I'm—I’m going to Russia. R-Roman? Make it look like an accident. Make it look like he disa—disappeared."
Roman stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, looking down at a dead Sergei, lost for words.
"Go, Lena.” He finally spoke and helped her out of the chair and out of the door. Then he made a call, pulled me up and into his arms, and we left, leaving Sergei there.
There was no funeral for Sergei. There were no flowers, there were no prayers, there were no tears. He didn't have a grave. His body was destroyed, and he...disappeared.
