“Why?” I ask softly.
“What do you mean? I needed to make sure they don’t come in.”
Is the sex really that good?
I mean yes, it was amazing, but—
“You don’t hate me anymore,” I fill in, swallowing, because the meaning behind his presence sinks in even before he answers.
He likes it here.
He likes... me.
“What? Seva…” His eyes meet mine with so much intensity it’s as though he’s burrowing inside my soul. “Of course I don’t. I… I love you. It might sound crazy to you, but Iknowit. You turned my life upside down, but for the better. When I’m with you, things that used to be black and white appear in Technicolor. I didn’t even knowIwas the one dead inside before I met you. I don’t need anyone else. Only you.”
A heavy weight settles on my chest, because all I want is to pull him close. Do I love him too? Will I in the future? Such things were never on the horizon, and I buried them so deep that now, faced with a declaration so pure and honest, it seems any response might spoil it.
But I want him to be happy.
I want him safe.
And he can’t be for as long as he remains at my side.
“You should...think of your future. My enemies will come for me, and next time you might be the one who gets hurt.”
“I don’t care,” he says matter-of-factly, once more kissing my face through the bandage. “This is what I want. There is no one more precious to me in this world. There is no future for me outside of you.”
My heart beats faster as if trying to tell me what my brain cannot process. Just like he was obsessed with his delusional revenge, he is now obsessed with me alone,and I can’t deny how enticing his intensity is. I’ve never met anyone more passionate, filled with more fire.
I don’t get to answer, because a phone rings and Victor gets up to grab it.
“It’s your agent. Do you want to talk to him?”
That sounds like the last fucking thing on my to-do list, so I shake my head and glare at my bandaged hands. How bad are my injuries, really? Will I even be able to hold a brush again?
To my bewilderment, Victor answers my phone, and starts talking to my agent as if they’ve already gotten acquainted.
“No, he’s busy getting the studio back in order. Yes, you can send the renovators in on Thursday. It’s been a calamity, but nothing we can’t get through. You will need to wait. No, he’s just not in the mood. Don’t worry about it.”
He even speaks in this fake-professional voice I’ve not heard from him before. As though he’s a high-end personal assistant.
I’m so shocked I refrain from speaking until he puts down the phone, but words roll from my mouth hurriedly as soon as nobody can overhear us. “Renovators? Are you crazy? They might be assassins in disguise. Or scouts. Or just sell information about our defenses once they finish the job!”
Victor sighs and starts pacing the room. “I know, there’s risk to it, but the structural stability of the roof above the studio needs assessing. I’ve gone over it in my head a lot, and decided that you could stay in the panic room in the meanwhile, especially since you need rest, and I’ll plant the seed that you left, in case people ask.”
“And who are you in this scenario? I mumble, hating everything about his plan yet unable to argue, becauseI’m in no condition to work on the house, nor will be within the next... fuck knows how long.
He clears his throat, blushing a little. “Your apprentice and assistant. The less they understand our connection, the better.”
“Am I not good enough to be your lover now that I can’t fucking hold anything with these hands?” I growl, slowly opening and closing my palm, but it feels swollen. Now that my consciousness is coming back in full force, I’m beginning to understand how badly I’ve been burned, and I feel as if I’ve swallowed lead.
“Seva. What are you talking about?” Victor scoots at my side and paints a shape over one of my injured hands. “First of all, youwillget better, and second, you could lose both your arms and I’d still be here. I just thought it’s a good precaution to keep our relationship secret in case someone wanted to use it against you.”
“How do you know if I’ll get better?” I snap, but the sight of him recoiling in fear brings me no solace. I hate myself for scaring him when all he wants is to take care of me. “You don’t know that... I might never paint. I might be a pathetic wreck of a man ‘til the day someone finally takes my head off my shoulders.”
“Hey… hey… you won’t be,” Victor whispers, fingertips back on me. My hands aren’t even safe to squeeze. “You’re far too determined. If you struggle with your hands, I bet you’d just paint with your feet, or do these full body abstract paintings, rolling around the canvas.”
He’s joking, since he knows we both dislike those, but I’m unable to find an ounce of joy in it. Any time I move my face, it hurts, and I dread to find out what’s under the bandages. I went through my whole life strong, capable, and… well, yes, fucking stunning. Call me vain, but I have no idea how to live without my face.
