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“I haven’t seen or heard from them in over twenty years. They’re probably dead.”
“Don’t you want to know for sure?”
“No. I don’t. The answer doesn’t change anything, so why am I going to trouble myself trying to find it?”
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. The crease between his brows deepened and he chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. Instead of asking a question, he threaded his fingers through mine and trudged back toward the elevators.
Roan’s quietness was understandable. Knowing him, he was probably trying to wrap his head around everything he’d just learned. Obvious cultural differences aside, I was fully aware how strange my life must seem to someone like him. At least for now, I hoped it was enough to appease his curiosity before he came back with more questions. There was no need for him to learn every horror all at once.
In the elevator, I punched the button for the lobby.
“Mail,” I said when Roan looked up at me with a silent question.
He nodded, his gaze drifting away again while his grip tightened on mine.
When we reached the ground floor, I squeezed his hand before letting go. Safe as we may have been under Misha’s protection, I still didn’t want to press my luck by flouting Sergei’s one rule for me — discretion. I had carte blanche to do whatever else I wanted, except publicly acknowledge I was in love with the man next to me.
When we stepped out, Roan drifted off to the side, on his phone again, while I headed to the mailboxes. It was a stack of the usual shit, along with a large, heavy envelope on the bottom.
I pulled that out first, arching a brow at the swirling calligraphy on the front. It was addressed to Roan.
“Something for you,” I said, handing it to him.
His brows dipped as he took the envelope and turned it over. Other than the purple wax seal, there wasn’t anything to indicate who sent it. He slipped a finger underneath the flap and opened it, pulling out the contents of the envelope — a thick piece of paper with even more swirls and flourishes.
“It’s an invitation,” he said as he skimmed it. A smile took over his whole face, erasing any prior confusion. “Oh my God! It’s from Bennett! It’s for his charity masquerade.”
He wasstillsmiling, even after the announcement. I had to steal and repaper a fucking Porsche to get him to smile and one measly letter has him practically jumping out of his shoes? Because it’s fromBennett?!
“Who the fuck is Bennett?”
“Uh, it’s complicated. He’s like a friend, I guess.” He finally looked up, beaming, and swatted my arm with the elaborate invitation. It even smelled expensive, wafting a foreign cologne over me with the motion. I hated it. I hated this unknown person. And I hated whatever fucking party he was throwing.
“This is going to be awesome,” Roan said brightly, reading it over again. He all but floated into the elevator, humming a cheerful arrangement for the first time in weeks. His contemplative mood was gone, just like that. All thanks toBennett.
I should have been happy he was happy again. I should have been happy something managed to break through his hardening shell and reach the real Roan,myRoan. But that was the problem.Ihad nothing to do with his turnaround. One stupid letter annihilated any sense of accomplishment I felt ten minutes ago and I fucking hated it.
12
ROAN
“I hate Halloween,”Sasha snarled, his accent sounding even more Russian than usual.
“Of course you do. You hate everything.” I rolled my eyes and kept walking, surveying the line of elaborate masks crafted from all sorts of laces and leathers. Trying to come up with “costume” ideas for one of Bennett Reeve’s infamous Halloween masquerades was proving to be difficult, mostly because shopping with Sasha was like shopping with a toddler. All he had to do was put on a suit, which he looked damn fine in, and throw on a mask and that was it. It’s not like I was asking him to dress like one of the Village People. It was a black-tie event for crying out loud.
Since Sasha was too high up on his soapbox, he ignored my dig. “Who thought it was a good idea to let children run around annoying people? Knocking on doors, begging for candy? That’s not a holiday. That’s a headache. Every single one of those brats should—” He muttered something under his breath and smacked the back of his right hand against his left palm.
“Did you haveanyfun as a kid?” I looked over my shoulder, eyeing him up and down, looking every bit the mafia hitman he was. “Never mind. I already know the answer.”
“How do you even know this person?” Sasha asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread, like he was settling in for a fight. Right here. In the middle of a costume shop.
“Jealous much?” I grinned at an exquisite black and gray mask fashioned to look like a wolf. Biting my lower lip, I pulled it off the stand and turned around, holding it up for him. “Perfect.”
He wasnotamused. Eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, he arched a black eyebrow and remained utterly silent.
I shrugged, looking at the mask again. “I thought it was funny.”
“Hilarious.”
