I'm quiet, imagining Roman in a room with his fatheraccusing him of betrayal. "Aren’t you worried? How can you look so calm?"
"Worrying doesn’t help."
“If you don’t worry then what do you feel?”
"Nothing.” His features harden. “I shut off my thoughts and focus on the best approach when he questions me. It’s a game to him. How far he can push me before I crack and lose control.”
“Do you ever lose control?”
“No. I can’t. The moment I lose control, is an excuse for my father to say I was a threat to the Bratva.”
“But what if he says he has evidence you took me? What then?”
“Then I have to think fast.” His eyes flick to mine. “Or we’re both screwed.”
“I know what he’ll do to me. I just don’t know what will happen…” I let my voice trail, trying to block out the images of the ways I know Grigori has had people killed.
"Are you worried about me?" Roman asks, sounding surprised.
I toy with the end of my braid. "I’m not. You say you know what you’re doing."
He raises a dark eyebrow, as if he doesn’t believe me.
I let go of my hair. “Yes,” I whisper, admitting the truth. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Silence fills the room. I understand now what my parents meant when they told me, I should learn to keep some thoughts inside my head.
"I'll be fine," he says, after a few seconds. "Hehasto accuse me tonight. I’d worry if he didn’t.”
I hope he’s right because if Grigori has proof of his involvement… I can’t bear to think what he’d do.
Roman doesn’t seem ready to leave my room. After lastnight and his strange behavior this morning, I also don’t want him to leave now that things are okay between us. I want to keep talking to him without reminding him of his psycho father.
"I thought about something.”
“What?”
“Last night when I watched you cook. It made me realize how much I don’t know.”
“Like what?”
“Basic things that people pick up as they get older.” I braid my hair, my fingers working automatically. “How to take care of a home, apartment. How to use a cell phone. I never had one.” I sigh. “There’s a lot I don’t know and I want to learn.”
He's quiet, so quiet I think he’s ignoring me, until I hear him say, “I’ll teach you.”
I can’t believe I heard him correctly. I blink. "You will?"
"Yeah.” His tone is matter of fact. “It takes time, though. You can’t make up for seven years in a week or two.”
“I know,” I rush to tell him, my excitement bubbling. “I don’t care how long it takes. I want to catch up.”
"Alright. We'll start with the basics and figure out the rest from there.”
We.
It’s basic grammar but the way he says it, makes it feel like we’re a team instead of captor and captive. Since he’s not in a bad mood, I push my luck. "I also want to learn Russian.”
He raises a brow. "You plan on being around other people?"
