Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Roman was silent for a beat.
I wasn’t sure what I expected of him. Would he say he understood and then get back in the car and take me to the airport? Berate me for being broken and useless, like my father did when the doctor told him of my condition?
I braced myself, waiting for his dismissal, his rejection. He just took a long, slow exhale. Then he straightened up, his arms moving to my shoulders, and he pulled me from the car and into his arms, pressing me to his rain-soaked chest in a hug that was so warm, so soothing.
He still said nothing, just stood there and held me for a minute before his hand went back to my jaw.
Tilting it up again, he looked at me, meeting my eyes, showing me the truth and the vulnerability in his. “Do you really think that’s what this is about?”
He spoke softly, soothingly, almost gently.
I looked away, pulling my face out of his hand.
He just reached back for me, this time cupping the side of my face as he guided my eyes back to his.
“Zoya,” he said in a reverent tone. “I don’t give a damn about bloodlines, or heirs, or any other bullshit this world expects of me. I never have. Yes, the Ivanovs have traditions, but I don’t give a damn about traditions, or rules, or what anyone else thinks. Fuck other people’s expectations.”
His thumb brushed over my lips.
“You are my family,” he murmured. “You. Not some unborn child. Not some legacy.”
My breath hitched.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him with everything I had, but how?
His fingers tightened on the side of my face, his forehead nearly brushing mine. “You are my home, my little warrior. My war. My peace. The only damn thing in this world that makes sense to me.”
My vision blurred as more tears streamed down my face.
God, he meant it. He meant every single word, and it broke me.
I turned away from him, dropping back onto the car seat and pressing fingers to my temples. He didn’t know what he was saying.
He might mean it now, but what about in five years, ten years, when all of his cousins had enormous families with kids running around everywhere, and he didn’t? How could he be okay with just being an uncle and never a father?
“This is insane.”
Roman shifted back on his heels, waiting.
Because he already knew the truth I wasn’t strong enough to accept.
He already knew that I wasn’t leaving.
I couldn’t. It didn’t matter how much I told myself over and over that it was the right thing to do. I knew deep down it wasn’t.
Roman was my home, too.
Maybe he knew I never intended to leave, not really.
I let out a long, shuddering breath. Then I stepped out of the car and into his arms.
The cold air bit at my skin as the wind whipped around us and together, we stepped over the wet ground, dodging puddles as I stared up at the church that would bind me to the one man who’d ever truly understood me.
He was the only one who would ever appreciate my value, as more than just being a woman, or being pretty.
Roman saw the woman I was and not just what I could give him.
He saw my drive. He was the only one who saw my intelligence, and he saw through the mask that I had spent my life carefully cultivating.
Hand in hand, we walked together up the concrete steps.
I turned to him before we got to the door, chest rising, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Are you sure?” I whispered, giving him one last chance to run.
His lips curved.
“I was sure the first time I put a gun to your head, and you smirked at me.”
A sharp, broken laugh escaped me.
He pulled me into his arms and placed a kiss on my forehead, making me feel cherished. “Let’s get married, my fierce printsessa.”
This time I didn’t run.
Not from him, not from the life that I wanted but was too afraid I couldn’t have.
That little girl inside of me, the one who believed in happily ever after, wasn’t dead after all.
She was just waiting for her prince.
CHAPTER 31
ROMAN
Blood.
It flooded my senses. I could smell it, taste it, hear it dripping onto the white tile floor. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see it. I could feel it draining from my wife as she left me here, alone.
The bright white, sterile walls of the hospital were closing in on me as I paced the length of the corridor. My boots hit the floor in sharp, agitated strides, the only sound I could hear over my heart roaring in my chest.
My nose was filled with the stringent scent of antiseptic and the distinct metallic odor of blood. There was no escaping it.