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“Not good. It’s been a bad day.”
“Maybe we can get Dr. Gray or Dr. Daniel?—”
“I called them both already. They told me to make her as comfortable as possible.”
He falls silent, and I know he’s trying to come up with a solution. Arsen, Dominik, Gedeon—they’re all the same. Men of action. They’ve never met a problem they can’t solve. Until now.
Good luck beating up cancer, gentlemen. I wish you well in your efforts to intimidate her pancreas into proper working order.
“Have you told Arsen?” asks Gedeon.
“What is he gonna be able to do that the best doctors in the country haven’t?”
“He could be there for you,” he says softly. “You need someone to talk to.”
Out of all the things I thought he’d say, that never crossed my mind. Mostly because it’s patently absurd.
“Arsen doesn’t want to talk to me about my dying mom. He barely wanted me to move her here. She’s my consolation prize for agreeing to be imprisoned in this house.”
Hurt flashes across Gedeon’s face, and I feel bad. I don’t really feel like the house is a prison. Not all the time, anyway.
But before I can apologize, he clears his throat. “Arsen wants to see you. He asked me to send you to his room.”
“He’s home?” I whip around the kitchen like Arsen might be lurking behind me. “Why didn’t he just come see me himself?”
“He’s been busy.”
Gedeon won’t meet my eyes, and I’m positive there’s more to that statement than he’s letting on. Isn’t there always?
“I think he wants to give you something, if that helps,” he adds.
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, Gedeon. I was blackmailed into a loveless marriage, but at least he calls for me like a dog and gives me little treats.”
Gedeon blows out a weary breath, like he’s as sick of my shit as I am. “It’s not like that. He’s just not used to this, Laila.”
“Not used to what? Having an adult conversation? Treating people with basic respect?”
“Marriage.”
“You’d think he’d have picked up some skills from his first rodeo.”
“He never wanted to be married to Natascha.”
“He never wanted to be married to me, either! At least he’s consistent.”
Gedeon works his jaw from side-to-side, debating something. Finally, he sighs. “I know he comes across as a brute, but I’ve known Arsen for over a decade now. Since before he went to—” He cuts himself off and clears his throat. “The point is, there’s more to him than most people can see.”
Unless Arsen is hiding like a circus clown under his many shades and layers of “douchebag,” I’m not interested.
“Where is his room?”
“You don’t know where—?” He shakes his head. “It’s right next door to yours.”
I can only sigh.Of course it is.
I head upstairs, debating all the while whether to go to his room or not. I want to ignore his request just to prove a point, but I also want to see how he lives. I’ve been snooping all around the house, but his room is the jackpot. The holy grail of“Who Is Arsen Adamov, Really?”
Deciding to be rebellious on another day, I slip through the door.
