Painted Scars: An Opposites Attract Mafia Romance (Perfectly Imperfect Book 1)

“Anything on the recording from Leonid’s room?” I ask and turn on the mixer.

I decided to make us piroshki for dinner. Roman said I’m trying to fatten him up. Like that could happen with his workout schedule. I went to the gym one morning and found him doing pull-ups, and boy was it a sight to see. The man has a six-pack I previously believed could only be achieved with a lot of photo editing. After that, I started getting up at seven so I could make it to the gym by eight, and drink my morning coffee while watching him. Since I’ve started this routine, he rarely manages to finish an entire workout because I usually drag him to the bedroom. What can I say? I get horny watching him work out. He doesn’t complain, so I guess he’s okay with me stealing some of his time.

Roman has been in a sour mood for the last two weeks, and I’m pretty sure it relates to not getting what he is after on those recordings. I haven’t asked what he was specifically looking to find, but I had my suspicions.

I feel a brush of lips at the nape, and then a kiss on my shoulder.

“Still nothing.”

“You are sure that your uncle is the one who tried to kill you?” I ask and his fingers go still on my neck. “It wasn’t so hard to guess, Roman.”

“Yes. Which is why I don’t want you anywhere near him unless I’m with you.”

“What would he do with me? I’m . . . nobody.”

What I meant to say was, “I will be gone in a few months anyway,” but I couldn’t make myself say the words. It hurts too damn much to think about it, so I don’t. I’m exceptionally good at ignoring the things I don’t find pleasant.

“You are my wife. Hurting you would mean hurting me.”

Yeah. I guess having the pakhan’s wife killed under his nose wouldn’t paint a nice picture in the eyes of his partners and subordinates.

“I’ll be cautious.”

“Good.” He kisses my shoulder again. “Leave that thing in the fridge. Get changed. I’m taking you to Ural.”

“The mountain?”

“One of my clubs.”

“One of . . .?” I stare at him and laugh. “Man, I did good. I’m such a gold digger. My mom will be really happy when she hears.”

“Why?”

“She always advised me to marry well, among other things. I guess I can cross that one off the list.”

“And what are the other things.”

“Get a degree in economics. Not to bite my nails. Die my hair blonde.”

“You are not touching your hair.”

“Not a fan of blondes?”

“Not anymore.” He bends until his nose touches mine. “Go get changed.”

“The black dress?”

“Not if you have any intention of leaving this wing, Nina.”

* * *

No more than thirty minutes to get ready is my usual MO. However, I decided to take it up a notch tonight, and spent fifteen more minutes applying makeup. I want to look my best in case we run into one of Roman’s exes. It’s vain, I know, but I don’t care.

I find Roman in the kitchen. He’s leaning on the counter, supporting himself with a crutch in his left hand and holding a tumbler of whiskey in the other.

His leg is getting better. He hasn’t been using the wheelchair at all while he’s in the suite for quite some time. Although, I still haven’t seen him use the cane. I know he’s practicing, but when I asked to see, he said he won’t have me seeing him wobbling around. It’s stupid, but I don’t press.

I look him up and down, loving how hot he is in black dress pants and a black dress shirt that molds to his body in the most sinful way.

“My oh my, someone is looking sexy tonight.” I put my hands on his chest and straighten his shirt. “Where is your wheelchair?”

“No wheelchair tonight.”

My eyes widen at his words. This is big. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I squeak with delight and kiss him.

“I’m so happy for you, baby.” I remove a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “The guys are going to lose it when they see you!”

* * *

Olga sees Roman first and the expression on her face is priceless. She’s on the other end of the hallway in front of Ivan’s door when she hears us coming. Her eyes bulge, and the pile of pressed towels she’s carrying in her arms falls to the floor.

I stifle a smile, trying to keep my face casual, and follow Roman into the elevator. His walking has improved immensely since he switched to his new crutches. It’s almost normal. Maybe a bit slower than it was before the accident, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve seen what his knee looks like. It’s a miracle he’s come this far.

When we exit the elevator, Ivan and one of the security guys are coming from the direction of the kitchen. I guess they are going with us tonight. They see Roman and freeze in mid-step. Ivan gathers himself first and approaches us.

“Pakhan. Nina Petrova.” He nods and precedes to open the door.

With a side glance, I notice Valentina peeking around the corner on the other side of the hall; her mouth hanging open. There is no doubt that by the time we come back everyone will know the news.

* * *

The club is bigger than I expected, spanning the whole ground floor of a three-story glass building. It seems as if we arrived too early because there are only a few people waiting outside; however, when the bouncers open the double glass doors for us and we enter, I’m surprised to find a significant crowd inside. Most of the people are gathered around tall tables along the sides of the space. I expect us to stop at one ourselves, but we cross the huge room to another set of doors. Two men are standing on either side and they open them as soon as we get closer. We are greeted the same way we were at the entrance.

“Pakhan,” they say nodding to Roman and then me. “Mrs. Petrov.”

I’m slightly confused by their behavior, because I didn’t expect anyone to know about my existence.

This second space is smaller, but it is much more lavish. Instead of tall tables, five semi-circular booths are located around the room; two smaller ones on each side and a huge one, that could probably seat ten people, in the center of a small, raised platform. Ivan, who’s been walking in front of us the whole time, walks toward the big booth and stands on the right side, his hands clasped behind his back. For a second, I worry about Roman taking the two steps onto the platform, but he manages without a problem. He turns and offers me his hand, and I step up after him. The security guy joins us on the left side of the booth, assuming the same position as Ivan.

“I feel strange,” I whisper when I sit down next to Roman in the middle of the booth.

“Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper again. “Why is everybody watching us?”

“Who cares,” he says, grabs my chin, and kisses me.

Roman

A man approaches Ivan and says something in his ear. He looks familiar, probably one of Pavel’s men. Ivan nods and looks at me, but when I shake my head, he sends him away. I’m not in a mood for business tonight, he can pass the message to Pavel.

Nina sits snuggled into my side, a wine glass in her hand, watching the crowd. She’s been talking nonstop since we came in, but she fell silent a few minutes ago. I wonder what’s going on in that head of hers. She puzzles me, this strange little thing who has worked her way under my skin, bit by bit, since the moment I saw her for the first time in that hole of a restaurant. I wonder what’ll happen when these six months elapse, and she realizes I have no intention of letting her go. Ever.

I raise my hand to trace the line of her bare shoulder, and then let it slide down to her delicate wrist. She looks so fragile, my Nina, but looks can be deceiving.

“Dance with me,” I whisper in her ear.

Her head tilts up and those black eyes look straight at me, a question visible in them. She must wonder how the fuck she is going to dance with a man who can’t even walk properly, but she doesn’t ask, as I knew she wouldn’t.

“Okay.” She smiles.

“Give me your leg.”

Curving her eyebrow, she turns toward me, crosses her legs, and places her right foot in my hand. Slowly, I remove her heel and place it on the seat on the other side of me, then let go of her ankle.

“Left.”

“You should get some counseling, Roman. This foot fetish is getting out of hand.” She laughs and switches her legs, and I repeat the action with her other heel.

I take one crutch, stand up, and take her hand in mine.

“Up, malysh. On the seat.”

She giggles, climbs up to stand on the booth seat, and puts her arms around my neck. I smile. Even standing up there she’s barely an inch taller than me.

“I like this setup.” She kisses me. “From now on, I’m totally carrying a stool with me everywhere.”

I place my hand on the small of her back and nuzzle her neck. She sighs and buries her fingers in my hair, and we keep standing like that while the sounds of a slow tune wind around us.

I’m not a fan of having my back turned to the crowd. I very much prefer the whole room in my sight, but I guess I will have to rely on Ivan and Kolya watching my back. And I like holding Nina like this, with my body disrupting the view for other men I’ve seen looking at her.

“How is the leg holding up,” she whispers in my ear.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Roman?”

“Yes?”

“I have a confession to make.”

I kiss her shoulder. “Something bad?”

“Yeah. It’s . . . well, it’s a kind of a problem. A big one.”

“Spill it, Nina.”

She’s silent for a few moments, and then makes my world tilt on its axis with six short words.

“I’m in love with you, Roman.”

I close my eyes for a second and squeeze her tightly. It’s like everything around me stopped.

“Then we share the same problem, malysh.” I say into her neck, and feel her go still next to me.

When I raise my head and look at her, her lips are slightly quivering, and there are tears in the corners of her eyes.

“That six-month deal? It’s off, Nina,” I say and squeeze her waist. “I don’t care what we agreed. You are mine now and I am not letting you go. Ever.”

Nina

I place my palms on either side of Roman’s face and search his eyes, that are looking into mine with such intensity.

“I’m not going anywhere, Roman.”

“Promise me.” He squeezes me to him, and for a moment, I find it hard to breathe. “Promise me, or I’m taking you home and tying you to my bed until you do.”

“I promise.” I run a finger along his jaw. “Should we sit back down?”

“No,” he barks.

“Okaaay. Why not?” I ask, but he just grinds his teeth and says nothing. “Roman, is something wrong?”

“There are men here.”

“It’s a club. Of course, there are men here.”

“They were ogling you.”

I burst out laughing, but he just grinds his teeth some more. “Are you kidding?”

“Do you see me smiling, Nina?”

He’s serious. “Roman, you are being unreasonable. I’m with you, am I not?” I place a kiss on his hard lips. “They can watch, but it’s all they can do.” Another kiss, on his brow this time. “Does that make it better?”

“Marginally.”

I have no idea what has gotten into him, but I’m not letting him stand like this the whole night. He needs to get off that leg of his. I sigh and kiss him again. “Let’s go home, baby.”

* * *

Our car stops in front of the house at the same time as another one, and Leonid gets out of the back seat. He turns to meet us, his eyes snapping to Roman who stands next to me. It’s dark, but there is enough light from the lamps to illuminate the shock on Leonid’s face, which transforms to a look of pure hatred. He quickly schools his features into a pleasant expression and approaches us.

“Well, what an unexpected development. I’m so glad to see you back on your feet, Roman. Literally.”

“Is that so, Uncle?” A corner of Roman’s mouth curls up. His posture is relaxed, but I don’t miss the way he’s gripping his crutches. Despite how much his leg is hurting, he’s doing a great job at pretending.

“Roman, I’m tired. Can we go up, please?” I say, then turn to Leonid and smile sweetly. “I need to do my evening face routine before bed, and it takes at least an hour.”

Leonid gives me a condescending look, then turns and marches inside the house. We follow him at a much slower pace.

As soon as the suite door closes behind us, I turn to Roman and point toward his bedroom.

“Bed. Now, Roman.”

He doesn’t argue with me, which is evidence enough that he’s in a significant pain.

I take off my heels, and rush into the kitchen to grab his painkillers and a glass of water and take them to Roman’s bedroom. He approaches the bed and then sits down with a stifled groan. In a painfully slow-motion, he raises his right leg onto the bed and reaches for the medicine bottle in my hand. After swallowing two pills, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Let me,” I say and take over.

He watches me in silence, then shrugs the shirt off and lies down on the bed. When I start unbuckling his belt, his hand covers mine and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, malysh. Not tonight.”

“Jesus, I’m not intending to have sex. I just need to see your leg.”

“Just leave it. It’ll pass.”

I ignore him and continue removing his pants. Even with me trying my best to be gentle, he hisses in pain a few times. When I finally manage to get a look at his knee, I take a sharp breath. His knee is swollen to double its normal size.

“Shit, Roman.”

I grab a pillow and carefully put it under his leg, trying my best to move it as little as possible. With that done, I take off the fancy dress, put on one of Roman’s T-shirts, and climb onto the bed to lay next to him. Covering us both with a blanket, I snuggle into Roman’s side and put my hand on his bare chest.

“Nina, I need to ask you something.”

The way he says it, in a strange, somehow detached tone, makes me look up and find him staring at the ceiling, his face set in hard lines.

“Okay,” I say.

“If it ends up that the crutches are the best I can do, will you leave?”

I open my mouth to say how idiotic that question is, but he puts his hand over my lips, silencing me. He’s still not looking at me.

“I need you to think about this before you answer. Think long and hard about what that means. I will never be able to run, no matter how much progress I make. Stairs will always be a problem for me. You might be ok with it for now, but you are young. You will meet other men who are not . . . damaged. Men who don’t have limitations. So, if I end up stuck with crutches for the rest of my life, and if that’s not something you can accept in the long run, I’ll understand. I swear, I’ll understand and there won’t be any hard feelings on my side. But if that’s the case, I need to know that now. We can keep going until it works for us, and when it doesn’t anymore . . . well, we can each go our separate ways. But I need to know. And I need you to be sure, Nina.”

Roman’s hand leaves my mouth. I try to get over the fact that he may find me so shallow, but then I look at it from his point of view, how I would feel if our roles were reversed, and I understand.

“Did you ever feel that I have a problem with that, Roman? So far, I mean.”

“No. But you are an extremely talented actress, malysh. And from this point forward, I don’t want that other woman, the one you created for the purpose of our agreement. No more acting, no more pretense.”

“Fair deal. Okay then.” I take a breath. “I would love to see you run or take stairs two at a time. The cane is okay, I guess, and I will be really happy if you come that far.”

I know each word that comes out of my mouth hurts him, because I feel him becoming so still it’s frightening. God, I hate saying all this, but we need the issue resolved once and for all.

“If I could choose, what I would love the most would be for you to go back to where you were before that bomb.”

He’s still looking straight up until that last sentence, but he closes his eyes after hearing that.

“But that’s never going to happen, Roman. I know this is hard for you, and it tears me up inside. I would love to see you without the crutches, but only because I know that’s what would make you happy. That is the only reason. I love you, and I want you happy. I want that for you, so, so much.” I take his face in my hands and make him look at me. “As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter. With or without crutches, I love you the same, baby. Even if you have to go back to using the wheelchair. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck, Roman. The only thing I want, is you. Can I have you, please?”

“You already have me, malysh.” He kisses the top of my head.

There is only silence after that. He isn’t convinced. I want to cry so damn much, but I somehow manage to keep myself together.

“Tell me, Roman, wouldn’t you love for us to be able to have sex in the normal way? Because I would. I would love nothing more than to have you above me, to feel your body pressing mine, pulling my hands above my head. Well, that’s not in the cards for me, for the foreseeable future at least. Maybe forever. Is that a problem? Will you get bored with my issues, decide to swap me with a less faulty version at some point? A woman who won’t involuntarily flinch when you approach her from behind unannounced? Or someone who won’t have a panic attack when you forget, and grab her wrist instead of her forearm?

“Do you think I haven’t noticed it’s always Dimitri or Ivan coming with us, never Kostya or Mikhail, or Sergei, who are all as tall as you? Or how they either sit down or leave the room when I come in? When I went into the kitchen a few days after Kostya was stabbed, he dropped down into the chair so abruptly, it’s a wonder he didn’t tear out his stitches. You had to instruct your men to fucking sit down when I enter a room so I wouldn’t freak out. I’m sure it’s tiring and frustrating, dealing with my issues. Will you decide to have me replaced with someone less fucked up at some point?”

“Christ, Nina.” He stares at me in shock. “How can you say something like that?”

“Oh, you don’t like how that sounds, huh? Well, fuck you, Roman,” I whisper, turn my face into his chest, and let the tears fall freely.

I feel his hand in my hair, his other arm coming around my waist, and in the next moment, he has me lying on top of him. He removes the strands of hair stuck to my teary face, and brushes the skin under my eyes with his thumbs.

“I’m so sorry, milaya. It’s just . . . I love you so bloody much. I’m scared shitless that you may walk away one day.”

I grind my teeth. “Give me your hand.”

He raises his eyebrow but does as I ask.

I lead his hand down between our bodies until it reaches between my legs, and I press his fingers over my wet panties. “You feel that, Roman? That’s what only lying next to you does to me. I’m so crazy about you, baby, that simply being close to you makes me dripping wet,” I whisper, and I feel him getting hard under me.

Slowly, he hooks his finger in the waistband of my panties and starts dragging them down.

“Off,” he barks.

“Roman, no . . .”

His other hand comes to them, and there’s a sudden sound of fabric tearing. I’m still stunned over the fact that he just tore my panties off of me when he pushes his boxer briefs down, grabs me around the waist, and slides me down his cock. It feels so good that my eyes roll in my head, while my muscles start spasming around his length.

“Mine,” he utters and slams into me. “Only mine. Say it.”

“Only yours, baby.”

Another slam and I’m done, my insides imploding. Shudders overtake my body. Roman groans under me, thrusts deep inside me, and I feel his seed filling me. Still coming down from the high, I drop onto his chest. That was the most mind-blowing one-minute sex I’ve ever experienced.

Roman’s arms come around my back, squeezing me to him, and I feel his lips kiss the top of my head.

“So, you’re staying for good?” he whispers.

“You are not getting rid of me even if you try. No way I’ll be able to find such a sexy husband again.” I smile and kiss him. “We’re closing this subject, Roman. Deal?”

“Deal. But I need you to know one thing. When I find that bastard who hurt you, I’m killing him.”

“No, you are not.” I squeeze his arm. “I don’t want to have anyone’s death on my conscience, so please, I beg you, forget about it.”

“Nina . . .”

“Please, we’re closing that subject, as well. You are not killing anyone for me. I can’t live with that. Please.”

When he doesn’t reply, I take his face in my palms and press my forehead to his.

“You won’t do that to me. You won’t seek him out, and you won’t kill him. If you love me, you won’t make me bear anyone’s death on my soul. Say you understand, Roman.”

There is silence and then, “Okay.”