Page 52 of Destined for the Devil
I had ransacked that phone endless times when I finally got my hands on it. But so did Sergei. I grabbed the phone and the charger, plugging it in with shaking hands.
Isla stood at the door, apprehensively watching all my actions. I tried to explain. “My sister’s phone. I—maybe I missed something.”
In silence, I paced the room and thought about it all again.Just like his other one. What thefuck?Maybe he tracked down my past flames and fucking raped someone?! My mind worked overtime to come to some kind of—any—viable conclusion.
He said Isla was girlfriend and wife material and that she was cuteand innocent. He used to say that about Natasha all the time—that she was cute and innocent. Was this his way of confessing? Was this his way of taunting me? Had he gone completely fucking unhinged to start threatening women he didn’t know with rape?
The phone charged to one percent, and I unlocked it, my fingers trembling as I opened the photos app.
My sister’s life ended so abruptly.
The last night of her life was supposed to be just a fun time but turned into a horrific tragedy. She had been out with some friends, celebrating a birthday at some fancy restaurant. They went clubbing after, and the last photo was her with a group of girls, all smiling widely at the camera.
I roamed my eyes over the photos, meticulously studying everyone’s face, and there, in the background of my sister’s group of friends, was the profile of a woman who I couldn’t recognize in the past, but now…I knew very well.
It was Lena. Sergei’s wife.
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Roman Likes Them Slim
Isla
Romanslunktohisknees, crouching over his sister’s phone. “Who isjust like his other one?” He broke the silence, looking up momentarily. "Has he been raping women I slept with? Or is it the more obvious choice, and he was talking about my sister?”
I had no idea what to make of anything. I didn't know Sergei or Roman's sister. I barely knew Roman! This story was so twisted; it made my past life look like a walk in the park.
"Look at this.” Roman pointed to the phone, and I peeked over his shoulder to look at the photo. “This is Sergei's wife. Why was she there that night? Did they know each other? She’s standing very close to them.” I dropped to my knees beside him, taking the phone out of his hands.
Indeed, the woman in question stood right behind the smiling group, as if she were a part of them, just distracted. “When I looked at these photos five years ago, I didn't know who the hell this was...but I do now." Roman continued on. "In fact, this was one of the mystery girls. I could never locate her.”
"Is there any way for you to get, like...a copy of all of Natasha’s texts? And calls? And emails? It was so long ago, but maybe the phone company can produce those things?" I proposed uncertainly, not sure how to help.
"I looked through it all back then…but so did Sergei. Did he know Lena then?” He pierced me with his blue eyes, deep worry etched into every one of his beautiful features. Roman swiped through the photos, confirming his next suspicions. “She’s not in any other photos, just this one. Did he delete the others? Did he miss one?”
Roman was standing on his feet now, holding his head in his hands. Having to dig up the biggest tragedy of his life and reassess it must have been heartbreaking for him.
"I have to fucking make up with him and get him to talk. Get him to saysomething,” he gritted. “The anniversary of her death is coming up in a few months, and I'm going to have to do a memorial. And I'm going to bring it all back. And when I find out he did it...I'm going to kill him."
Roman spoke calmly and looked right past me, as if talking to himself. Deep fear settled in my stomach at his words. It dawned on me just how little I knew him. Casually, he told me he was going to murder someone. He also burned someone. With me he was a puppy; gentle, soft-spoken, vulnerable, and tender. But the rest of the world saw his brutal and merciless version.
That night, Roman tossed and turned in his sleep beside me. He sighed and muttered, as if trying to speak in his dreams, like the truth was torturing him while he was unconscious.
The next few days he was broody, drowning in darkness. But all that disappeared as soon as he caught sight of me. As if coming out of a trance, he mellowed in my arms, softened with my kisses, and touched me as tenderly as ever.
Two weeks flew by since the evening he came to the realization that Sergei may have betrayed him, and one night, he indeed made up with him. He slumped down on the couch, the phone in his hands, and dialed the number.
Hearing him speak Russian opened up a new door of lust for him in my mind. His voice was deeper, angrier, and the language sounded sorough and foreign. Each word was sharp and final, like a death sentence. He spoke fluently, all the hard letters rolling off his tongue with ease, making him even more mysterious to me.
With all that in the background, I continued going to work, and Roman absolutely hated it. His opinion was that the job wouldn't give me anything, and I didn't need to work because he would take care of me and give me everything I wanted.
I found his words both comical and infuriating. We were in love, of course, but I couldn’t andwouldn’trely on him for everything. Begrudgingly, he agreed with me, but I knew his opinion never changed.
The conversation of me going back to university was shelved for the time being, and I was happy not to discuss it. But I did receive a phone call from the estate lawyer, updating me on my parents’ probate: it would be completed very soon, and I would finally have the funds to go back to school. I only had to make one decision—go back to New York or transfer close to Roman, and in my mind, it wasn’t even a question—close tohim,of course.
Every day, I went to work, but during lunch breaks and after hours, I studied and reviewed the material I had learned in university. I bought all my textbooks again and committed to at least an hour of review eachday, with extra time set aside on weekends.
It was hard to make time because when Roman and I weren’t at work, we werefucking.It had been something like three weeks since everything changed between us, and I couldn’t get enough of him.
