Page 93 of Destined for the Devil
"And you?" I spoke coldly, dreading her answer. "How many men...have you slept with?" I could barely get the words out of my mouth and refused to look at her. She scoffed.
"You're such an idiot.” Her annoyed tone got my attention. I snapped my head to her just in time to see her rise from the chair and approach the bottle of wine. She snatched it off the counter and poured herself more wine, angrily taking a large sip.
Staring at me through the glass, she killed me with her eyes as if I were the devil. As if I wasn’t in hell already. As if I wasn’t damned to a life of suffering without her.
42
Ride or Die
Isla
Romanfuckingriledmeup tonoend. There I was, literally dragging him upstairs to my place, asking if he wanted to stay for dinner, making sultry eyes at him, and he fucking stood around like astupid idiot!
What the fuck! What the actual fuck! Who had he been fucking, and why was he here!
I gulped down the wine, rage blinding me, but he stared back, his eyes blank and confused. "What?" he asked slowly, looking at me like a lost dog.
Ugh. I was so fucking tired. Tired of being heartbroken, tired of this whole situation, and also just…physically tired.
"Nothing." I had nothing to fucking tell him.
But that last sip did something to me, like my body was beginning to shut down by itself. My head spun, and I just wanted to close my heavy eyelids. "I'm just so tired. I barely slept last night, and school has really exhausted me."
I explained and wondered why I felt so incredibly drunk. Might have been the fact that I only had a muffin that day…about twelve hours ago.
The sound of glass shattering drew my gaze down to the floor, my empty hand just hanging in the air. I must have dropped the wine glass instead of placing it on the countertop. Everything was floating in my eyes, and my legs were weak. I just wanted to lie down. To fall asleep.
To pass out and never wake up.
But suddenly, I was floating in mid-air. Without making a sound, Roman appeared behind me, easily picking me up. My head fell back onto his shoulder, and I finally let go, closing my eyes and sinking into him. He carried me somewhere unknown, and it was so easy to descend into darkness.
It was magical.
Gentle and strong arms held my fatigued body, taking all the effort away. Slowly, I descended onto something cool and soft, like I was in a cloud. My bed.
The spinning never stopped, but Roman’s warm body and intoxicating smell were finally within reach. I grabbed onto his arm, unable to open my eyes—to think, to feel anything except him. “Donn…go,” I mumbled in delirium, wanting only one thing.
The mattress dipped beside me, and so tenderly, his large limbs enveloped me and pressed me into his chest, finally giving me a chance to take a calm breath in. For the first time since I left L.A., I fell asleep without tears.
But soon it was hot, dark, and confusing. I ripped my eyes open to discover that I was alone on the bed, fully clothed and in the pitch black. A small light was coming from downstairs, and I shot out of bed, discarding my wool sweater.
Did Roman…leave? As soon as that question accosted me, his voice sounded from downstairs, quietly speaking Russian. I bolted down the steps, holding onto the railing for dear life, afraid to tumble in my sleepy state.
There he was, sitting at the kitchen island in a spotless kitchen, scrolling through his phone. The stove time read half past nine, and I figured I must have taken a good two-hour nap.
Roman turned to me, the pain spelled out clearly in his eyes. "Isla? You should go back to bed. You're exhausted. I'm going to leave soon."
Bitterness settled in the back of my throat from his words. I stepped closer, still dazed from my sleep, and posed a very important question. "Why…why are you leaving?"
"Because you need to get some rest. You literally passed out from how tired you were.” Roman spoke gently, but he didn’t touch me, didn’t reach out, didn’t even move from his spot.
His lack of words and actions hurt more than I expected. I stood there, holding back the tears that were clawing their way out of me. Finally, I conceded.
"Fine. You should go.” I gulped down the disappointment. “I’ll take a shower and head back to bed. Thanks for the housewarming sushi." I faked a small smile, but he didn't return it, just stared at me in contemplation.
Forcing my legs to move, I shuffled back upstairs and shed all my clothes as soon as I closed the bathroom door.
Roman and I were clearly over. Painfully, obviously, irrevocablyover.
