CHAPTER SIX
ROMAN
Amira has barely looked me in the eye all day.
Every time her gaze clashes with mine, she averts her sight abruptly, as if the image of my face disgusts her.
The combination of her behavior now with how she was earlier this morning doesn’t sit right with me.
I know she was speaking to someone in that bathroom, but I don’t know who. The phone she barely uses was on the nightstand, so it wasn’t that.
It’s possible she was just talking to herself, but the fucking twisting in my gut tells me it's not that.
And she isn’t sleeping again. Amira thinks I’m fucking blind and can’t see the purple bags under her eyes that she tries to hide with makeup.
I know sleeping doesn’t come easy to her, not when the slightest movement startles her in bed, but I thought it was getting better for a while. Recently, that’s changed. Something is on her mind, but there isn’t much I can do to help her if she won't fucking tell me.
I stand at the kitchen counter, head raised to the ceiling as I think of how to get Amira to open up about what’s troubling her. It’s not like I can force the words out of her.
Running my fingers through my hair, I exhale a weary sigh, flinching when the annoying chime of the coffee maker sings loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
All these nerves coursing through my body are making me so fucking jittery that I’m grinding my teeth as I recoil from the slightest sound.
Taking a deep breath, I grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard above my head and pour the roasted liquid into our cups, pouring some coconut creamer in Amira’s while I take mine black.
“Here you go, angel,” I say, holding the steaming mug by the rim as I carefully extend it toward her.
Her thank you is quiet, but again, the moment our eyes meet, she directs hers somewhere else.
Amira’s gaze is focused on the weatherman describing next week's chilly conditions, her head nodding vehemently even though I know she doesn’t give a shit.
That’s it.
With a quick snap of my neck, I place my mug on the decorative table and take the remote from the arm of the couch, shutting off the television just as Johnny fucking Storm starts talking about another damn rain shower. Next, I take the cup from Amira’s hands, ignoring her mumbled objection as I sit it down next to mine.
“We need to talk,” I say, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her to follow after me as I guide us to the bedroom.
Now is the perfect time to air all our crap. Ash went out about an hour ago to do shit, and who knows what time he’ll be back, but I plan on having Amira smiling and happy again before that time comes.
“Roman, what the hell?” she exclaims as I push her on the bed, spinning around quickly to lock us inside before Shadow can shove her nosy head in the door.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the fuck won’t you look me in the eye longer than a damn second?” I ask, leaning my back against the wall, with my arms crossed over my chest.
Amira’s eyes take on a defiant glint as she watches my stance solidify. I won’t lie, it makes my dick twitch when I see those perfectly sculpted eyebrows pinch furiously in the center, but I keep my arousal in check, needing to stay in the moment, so she knows I'm serious.
She rises from the bed, stepping up to me until her tits press against my sternum, eyes locking on mine as she stares up past my chin. “I’m meeting your damn eyes right now, Roman, and the only thing that is wrong is you acting like a macho jerk. Mind telling me why you locked us in here?”
“You’ve been acting strangely for the last few days. You barely eat. You don’t sleep.” I raise my hand in silence as she goes to fucking argue. “Don’t even try it, Amira. Who the fuck do you think I am? I’m not some fucking stranger you picked up on the street. I’m your fucking man! I know when you aren’t sleeping, and no amount of fucking face cream you slap on will hide it from me! So before you try to lie to me, like you’ve been doing, why don’t you try talking to me, like a couple is supposed to do? And while you’re at it, look me in my face and not past my ear. I deserve that much.”
My breaths are coming in forceful pants when I finish my sentence, hands trembling slightly by my sides as the rush of adrenalin courses through my veins after finally getting that weight off of my chest.
I’ve opened the door, fucking shoved that shit as wide as it’ll go; now all she has to do is walk through it.
The fury emanating from her is fucking potent. Waves of anger and irritation seep from her pores as she glares daggers into my eyes.
“Let me out of this fucking room, Roman,” she whispers, a predatory growl rumbling beneath her voice, trying to overshadow the ripple of fear swirling through her irises.
Everything in my body is screaming at me to move, give in to what she wants, so I don’t ever have to see that fear again. But if I do that, then where will we be?
