Page 50 of Painted Scars

He is unbearable.

It’s been three days since the dinner with the Albanians and Roman is still treating me like I should be bedridden. I found his mother hen act kind of cute the first day, even though my fever broke and I was back to normal. Now I just want to strangle him.

“I am not spending another day watching Netflix, and you are not working from the living room again.” I poke a finger into his chest. “You will take your laptop and go downstairs to your office, and you’ll do it now. I mean it Roman.”

“The moment I’m out of the door, you are going to be up and working.”

“I need to finish four more pieces in four days. Of course, I will be working. You made me spend three days on a sofa.”

“You had a fever.”

“Three days ago!” I throw my arms in the air and stare daggers at him. “I am fine. Please, just go downstairs and let me work.”

“Okay. But I will be checking up on you. If I catch you missing lunch again—”

“Thank you, Jesus.”

He is following me with his eyes as I march to my work space and start prepping up my paints on the table next to the easel. I will have to buy more black paint, I am down to my last tube, since I used most of my stash on the big guy. A few more tubes of red wouldn’t hurt either. I just dipped my brush in the paint when I feel Roman’s lips land on the sensitive spot at the nape of my neck.

“You forgot something,” he whispers and buries his face in my hair.

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“A kiss.”

I drop the brush and slowly turn to find him looming over me. I don’t flinch, and there is no feeling of panic. Having him this close, towering over me, stopped triggering me a while ago. I can’t even pinpoint the exact moment when it happened.

“You are so demanding.” I cup his face in my hands and bring his lips to mine.

“I know.” He kisses me again. “Eat your lunch. Call me if you need anything.”

When Roman leaves, I immerse myself in work, stopping only for bathroom breaks. By lunch, I have another piece done. Brando is getting restless; he’s been running around for at least an hour before finally curling up in his dog bed. Maybe we could go for a walk and try our luck with getting into Leonid’s room again. The last few times I tried, there was always someone around.

In my room, I take the small red ball and the black device from the nightstand, and whistle. Brando jumps up in his dog bed, and as soon as he sees the ball, he starts running around my legs. Placing the listening device in the back pocket of my jeans, I leave Roman’s suite with Brando on my heels, and head into the west wing.

One of the maids exits Kostya’s room just as I reach the elevator and, carrying a mop and cleaning supplies, unlocks Leonid’s room and goes inside. Bingo.

I throw the ball toward the other end of the hallway and let Brando chase it for a few minutes. When I’m sure there’s no one around, I take the ball from Brando and launch it right into Leonid’s room. As expected, he dashes after the ball.

A mix of sounds start coming from the room. The maid crying out. Brando barking. Something hitting the ground. More barking.

“Brando,” I call, but I don’t expect him to come. When there is a ball involved, all his training vanishes. Very convenient.

I run into the room to find the maid cowering in the corner, holding the mop in front of her in a defensive stance. Brando is ignoring her completely and chases the ball below the small coffee table in the corner. I bend as if to get the ball and hit the table with my hip, which wobbles and tips to the side. A big glass bottle of liquor falls to the floor, crashing. Brando yelps and runs to hide under the bed.

“Get the dustpan and some rags, quickly,” I say to the maid and kneel between the bed and cupboard as if trying to get the dog.

As soon as she’s out of sight, I take the listening device from my pocket and look around. Most of the empty electricity sockets are in plain view, damn it. I almost decide to use the one next to the overturned table when I notice one empty socket located between the cupboard and the wardrobe. No electricity devices nearby. It’ll have to do. I reach with my hand, and I have just plugged the bug in when I hear fast-approaching steps.

“Come on baby, it’s okay. Come to Mommy,” I coo, reaching under the bed for Brando.

“What are you doing here?” Leonid says from behind me.

I grab the spooked dog and stand up to face Roman’s uncle, who stands at the doorway looking pissed.

“Oh, Brando ran inside chasing the ball and overturned the table. I am so sorry, Leonid. It won’t happen again!”

He looks at Brando with disgust on his face and motions with his head toward the door.

“Get that animal out of here,” he sneers.

I bend to collect the ball from the floor and then run out of the room.

Behind my back, Leonid mumbles, “Idiot.”

Smiling, I return to Roman’s suite.

Once inside, I let my lips stretch into a grin, take a bag with dog treats from the kitchen counter, and give Brando a double ration.

“Good boy.”

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