“I am. But why are you?” Rem’s voice is harsh, as is his expression when I pull back.
“Where else am I supposed to be?”
“Asleep. In our room.”
My heart thunders as I take in the rigid lines of his face. The cold fire staring at me from those dark eyes. Confusion and disbelief hit in rapid succession. “Are you…madat me?”
Rem drops his hands. I feel the loss of heat, of him immediately. “I was looking everywhere for you.”
“Everywhere?”
“Yes, Lena.” Rem pushes up from his crouched position next to the sofa. He starts pacing his office, pushing his fingers through his hair. Fingers that look coated in the same grime as his face. “Everywhere. Our bedroom, the living room, the guest bedrooms...” He’s practically growling. “I couldn’t find you. You should’ve been where I could find you.”
The anger in his voice is too much. Everything about this night has been too much. “I’ve been in this penthouse fordays,” I say, standing. “I’m always here, Rem. Do you know why?”
My only answer is another growl.
“Because,” I say, jabbing his shoulder as he paces past me, “you’ve locked me in here. Like a captive. I’m here all day, every day. Alone. Because of you. You’re mad at me because you couldn’t find me? That’s insane because you know damn well I can’tbeanywhere else!”
I’m shouting, my frustration and loneliness and latent fear rushing through me at an alarming rate. “We got married, Rem. Married!” I shove my wedding ring in his face, barely noticing that he’s stopped in front of me. “We got married, had one night together, and then you locked me in your fucking house and disappeared! I haven’t seen you for days. Haven’t talked to you. Have no clue where you’ve been.”
My chest is heaving. I’m so angry. So scared. So overwhelmed I can barely see my giant husband hovering over me. I don’t need to see him to land a fist against his chest. “I was on the phone with Bianca. I knew you were hurt…I knew Johnny came back, but they wouldn’t tell me what happened to you. I’ve been here, all alone, scared out of my mind because I didn’t—didn’t know if you were alive or… Howdareyou not tell me if you were alive or—”Dead.I can’t say it.
Not that I need to. The threat of death feels like a living, breathing thing around us.
So are the emotions pouring off Rem in turbulent waves. “You’re here for your safety, Lena. That was the deal you made. My protection, my rules. You stay in this fucking apartment where I know you’re safe. Where I know I can find you!”
Rem’s voice cracks, fear seeping through the jagged edges. It’s enough to clear some of my anger. Cautiously, I rest my hands on his chest. I can feel the rapid beat of his heart, the panicmaking his blood race. “You have no idea how much danger you’re in, Lena. No fucking clue. I’ve spent every second of every day since we got back hunting down lead after lead, dragging every boogeyman out of their hell holes just to get some fucking answers about who wants you dead and what I’ve learned…Vafancullo!You’re in more danger than I ever could’ve guessed.”
Rem’s hands flex as his sides, grasping at air. He’s strung tight, eyes wild. Desperate. The last of my anger drains away. I hate being locked up, unable to do anything useful while he fights battles on my behalf. But I don’t hatehim. Not even a little. “Shhh.” I rub circles on his chest. “I’m sorry. I know.”
Rem doesn’t hear me, but his hands find my hips, anchoring us together. “I wasn’t scared,piccolina, when the bomb went off today. As soon as I knew Ari, Johnny, and Bruce weren’t seriously hurt, I wasn’t scared. Not while I picked through the pieces of my car for any evidence of what kind of explosive was used, or when we tracked down some low-life Pagano enforcers and bled them for intel, or when I stormed into the chief of police’s office to get some fucking answers on how they can let prominent citizens be blown to fucking smithereens. I wasn’t afraid once.” Rem’s fingertips dig into the curves of my hips, his forehead dropping until our faces are just inches apart.
“I didn’t feel fear, true fear, Lena, until I came home exhausted and bleeding and filthy, and I couldn’t find you.” Rem swallows. His eyes are dark pools and I know I’m drowning. “I knew you were here. Rationally, I knew it. But I was going from room to room, and I couldn’t find you and I was losing my mind.”
Warmth blooms in my stomach, a fire kindled by the stark emotion on Rem’s face. It feels like we’re on the brink of something, hovering just inches from a point of no return. I want to kiss him. I want to do so much more. But out of damaged prideand bruised self-esteem, I have to ask, “So…you haven’t been avoiding me?”
Rem blinks down at me, speechless.
Embarrassment burns my cheeks, but I force myself to continue, rambling like an idiot. “We didn’t actually have…umm, you know…um sex, on our, uh, wedding night. And then we came back here, and you left without a word, and I haven’t seen you for literal days so I’m just checking, before I, um, say or do anything that’s going to be super embarrassing for us both—you aren’t avoiding me? Or pretending I don’t exist? Or regretting getting involved or?—”
Rem presses his thumb to my lips, silencing my verbal diarrhea. His long fingers cup my jaw as his other hand slides to the base of my spine. We’re close, but it isn’t enough. I thread my hands through his hair and know deep down everything about us being together feels absolutely right.
“No,piccola. I haven’t been avoiding you. Or pretending you don’t exist. I wouldn’t be able to even if I tried. And it would be so much easier for us if I tried. But I can’t even pretend, because you are the only thing I think about. The only thing I have space for in my brain. I think about you all the time. Want you all the time.”
Rem’s lips dip to mine. Skim over in the lightest touch. “You want to know where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing while you’re locked up here? Easy—I’m doing everything possible to keep you alive. Because the alternative is something I can’t live with, my defiant, brave, beautiful wife. The alternative is something I won’t survive.”
Rem is telling the truth, one that belongs to us both. I want to confess that I feel the same way, but I can’t find the right words. My head and heart are too full.
So, I tell him with my body. With my fingers twisted in his hair, I close the gap between us, push up on my toes and kiss my husband.
27
LENA
The kiss is sweet for one beat, two. A brush of lips and an exchange of breath. A silent prayer of thanks that we’re both still here, still breathing.
Through a force of will that is astonishing, Rem keeps his movements gentle. His lips are soft, his touch firm but not demanding.
