Page 14 of Conceal

I’d maintained polite conversation, and even played into his “masculine” talk so that he would report back good things to my mom. But telling me Mik has to go if I want a “high-value man” crossed a line. Now, I don’t give a fuck what he tells my mother.

“So, you don’t think men and women can be friends?”

“Not really, no. It’s biology. We’re meant to reproduce. A man who is ‘friends’ with a girl...” Yes. He used air quotes. “... is just waiting for access to her body.”

I’m raging inside when the waiter sets the bill down next to Maxim, but I maintain my cool as I reach over and pull it to me. I know men like this, and he’ll think that if he pays, he’s owed access to my body. That I’m so weak-minded and submissive to feel any sort of need for reciprocity or that I’ll owe him something.

He can take his pea-brained misogyny and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

I place the bill in my lap so he can’t try to reach for it, while I pull my card from my clutch.

“Tonight has been very educational. Truly. But I don’t think our worldviews align in a way that would be beneficial to either of us moving forward. I appreciate your candor, Maxim.” I give a tight smile to the waitress as I hand the check and my card over to her.

Maxim’s face has gone red. It’s sad because he really is very handsome in a classical, GQ type of way, but it’s ruined the second he opens his mouth. I’m not opposed to men being masculine and women being feminine. I’m opposed to a world-view in which masculinity and femininity become caricatures to hide shitty behavior and prejudices behind.

“Clearly, we’re not a good match,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. I’d been happy to let him walk out of this restaurant thinking he’d had a successful dinner and politely declining any more dinners with him in the future, but he had to go insult my relationship with Mik. I don’t get offended easily, but my friendship with Mik is the most important relationship I have with another human being and the idea that he could reduce a lifetime’s worth of friendship into Mik just buying his time until he could fuck me is downright insulting.

But, if I’m honest with myself, it might have struck a nerve. Because I have caught glimpses of what I think is longing on his face. And I’ve thought too often about what it would be like to kiss his pillowy lips. To, when he’s spooning me at night, grab his hand and move it to my breast, or between my thighs.

Mik, the small, scrawny boy I kidnapped, has grown up into a hell of a man. His shoulders filled out; he had a growth spurt in high school that made him well over six feet. And he works out several times a day. All that muscle is hidden under his baggy clothes, but I can feel it when we cuddle.

I don’t want to reduce our years of talks, and intimate moments, and the things we do for each other without thinking down to something so trivial. Sex is sex. Maybe I don’t know what the hype is all about because I’ve never had it, but I wouldn’t risk our friendship over something so trivial. I can get myself off just fine with my vibrator. It’s just that I haven’t been able to much since I’m under twenty-four-hour surveillance.

A smile tugs at my lips thinking of asking Roman to stand outside our apartment door while I masturbate so he can’t hear me or see me do it. But then heat coils low in my stomach at the idea of him having to watch or listen. And knowing he can’t do anything about it. Fuck. That’s a scenario I’ll have to play out later in my mind.

Then, before I can comprehend what’s going on, the table is shoved into my stomach so hard it tips me back in my chair, and I crash to the ground. Men are shouting, and there’s a crack of a gun before a heavy body lands on top of me. All I can do is cover my head with my arms. My ears are ringing, but I open my eyes to find the back of Roman’s suit jacket. My arms instinctively wrap around him, rolling him to our side to see if he’s okay.

There’s screaming and shouting and people are running around us frantically. Roman’s handsome face is coiled tight with pain, and I know he’s been hit.

I rip his suit coat off him, and my stomach sinks when his white undershirt is soaked through with blood. On my knees, I fumble to the overturned table and grab a cloth napkin, kneeling back next to him and ripping his shirt open, ignoring the buttons flinging everywhere. I can’t quite tell where the wound is because of the blood pooling over his entire abdomen, but I guess and press the napkin hard against it.

Roman grunts but opens his eyes, looking around us at the chaos. “Tati, you’re not safe,” he grunts and then coughs, wincing in pain again.

“Shut up. If they were going to shoot again, I’d already be dead,” I shout at him, using my left hand to find my phone in my clutch and dial 911. It’s slippery with blood and makes it nearly impossible, but I finally manage, put the damn thing on speaker, and lay it on his chest.

I look around for Mikhail to make sure he’s safe, but I don’t see him. Hopefully, he ran for safety.

Maxim’s gone. I have him to thank for the bruise on my stomach. I guess he’d seen the gunman, and pushed the table so hard to get away that he pushed me right over. I snort. Not so masculine now, eh? Hiding behind the woman at the first sign of danger.

The 911 operator answers, and when I tell her that Roman’s been shot, she tells me someone else has already called, and units are on their way.

Now that the place has cleared out, and I know there’s nothing else I can do, the worry creeps it, along with the tears.

“You’re going to be just fine, Ro. Just fine. You’re not allowed to leave me. I have many more years of teasing you in me, so you better not die.”

He coughs again and grimaces. He was shot in his stomach, so if he doesn’t bleed out, he should be fine, right?

He’s watery in my vision, but I can’t help but reach my hand out and stroke it through his dark hair. This can’t be it for us. This just can’t be. I won’t let it be. He can’t die for me. I’m a nobody. I’m not important enough for him to sacrifice himself. Oh my god, he took a bullet for me.

The EMTs arrive and load him onto a stretcher, and I ride with them to the hospital. They say his prognosis is good when they start the blood transfusion.

All I can think about is that it had better be.

Chapter eleven

Lev

My phone ringing wakes me up from a restless sleep. It’s the ringtone I programmed for Nikolai. Instantly, I’m on edge, adrenaline thundering through my veins, heart racing.