The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3), Bethany-Kris [books for 8th graders txt] 📗

However, it only took a tone of voice for his father’s position in the bratva—in their family—to be clear. While they were in his office, his mother would listen to his command.

So, she took her chair again—while still throwing darts at Roman with her eyes, and saying nothing all the same.

“She is in a place where she can get real help with her treatment. More help than Michelle could offer at the lodge by herself. But she’s also safe where she is, and that’s what she needed more than anything else right now.”

Claire shook her head like she didn’t understand, but she didn’t ask any questions. That would be a defiance of her husband’s orders, though he could see how his mother struggled to keep her emotions and questions under control.

Demyan cleared his throat, and nodded when Claire glanced his way. She seemed to take that as permission to ask those questions her son had seen in her eyes.

“So this place where you took her, she went in willingly? She knows it’s a place where she’ll get help—where she’s safe?”

Roman shoved his fisted hands into the pockets of his pants. He wasn’t sure how to even begin to answer that question. “Karine is not always in a position to make her own decisions. I’m sure we can agree on that.”

His mother didn’t like that.

At all.

“What does that mean?”

“Ma—”

“You didn’t answer what I asked. You talked around it. Are you telling me—or not—that she didn’t want to go in there?” Claire demanded, her gaze fiery.

Roman looked his mother’s way knowing his frustration with everyone and everything was undoubtedly written all over his face. He couldn’t be bothered to hide it anymore. Karine as a topic of conversation with his parents was last on his list at the moment. More important shit waited at the top.

What were they going to do about Dima and Leonid? What about the fact that Roman was almost killed by one of the bastards?

Karine was fine.

Or rather ... safe.

It was time to handle business.

“No, I wouldn’t say she was particularly excited about it, but it had to be done,” Roman settled on saying to his mother. “She couldn’t stay at the lodge anymore—hell, look how close Dima came up on me. She couldn’t live here. Where else was she supposed to go? Where was I supposed to take her?”

“Well—”

“I am the only one who is fucking responsible for her. I made a choice, that’s all. I know where she is, I know she’s okay ... and I know they can’t get her there if they don’t know she’s there in the first place. That’s all that matters to me.”

He wouldn’t admit his feelings for Karine. Not openly to his parents—except he didn’t really have to anymore. They knew what this meant.

Claire’s nostrils flared, a sure sign of her disapproval. She didn’t have an answer to his question, though.

He had thought about his actions long and hard already—agonized over his final choice in the short days and hours leading up to her admittance to the Twin Rivers facility in Vegas. If there was any other option for Karine, he would have taken it.

This was it.

At least she was safe.

Roman had to keep telling himself that.

“I hope you’ve explained it to her, and that she understands your point of view here because ... Roman, she was making such good progress. She trusted you.”

His nerves were already pulled taut.

Ready to snap.

Roman just needed a reason.

“I don’t need to fucking listen to this,” he barked at his mother. “I can’t do everything right—I can only get it done, Ma.”

“Don’t you push it,” Demyan growled from behind his desk, a single finger pointed like a gun at his son.

It was a warning Roman knew he couldn’t take lightly. Rubbing his temples with his fingers, he tried to soothe the throbbing ache at the back of his skull.

No such luck.

“What happened to your hand?”

His mother’s horrified question had Roman rolling his eyes and waving the concern off when he replied, “My hand is fine. Or it will be. I’m not sure about the rest of me.”

The silence in the room echoed. Maybe they didn’t know what to say, but he wished somebody would figure it out. He was fucked. In every way possible.

“I married her,” he said.

He had to tell them; planned to, actually. He didn’t mean for the words to just slip out like they did, though.

“You ...” Claire started to say, trailing off as her gaze darted from him, and then back over her shoulder to her husband.

Roman filled in the blanks for her, saying, “We got married six days ago. Now she’s officially mine. Dima can’t claim any right over a married woman.”

Claire covered her mouth with both hands, her gaze widening. He couldn’t tell if she was still horrified, or overjoyed.

“But he can kill her for it,” Demyan murmured, drawing his son’s gaze to his.

Roman didn’t reply.

“Well, son, I suppose now you need to do whatever you have to do to keep your woman safe,” his father advised.

He was trying.

Wasn’t he?

*

Roman called Twin Rivers—again—as he took the stairs down to the entry of his parents’ home. The woman who answered the call said she would try and get a hold of Sylvia, who was Karine’s primary counsellor, and there he stood on the stairs, waiting like an idiot on hold with no promise of anything.

He’d been calling the facility almost hourly. They knew him well by now, expecting his calls to the point where a couple ladies actually greeted him by his first name, and they probably also knew he wouldn’t give up until he’d spoken to his wife.

His meeting with his parents hadn’t gone according to plan, either. There was no chance to discuss anything work-related with his father while his mother remained in the room. They hadn’t made any plans.

The only thing on everyone’s mind seemed to be Karine, and the decision Roman had taken on her behalf. Like it wasn’t already done—it was.

It was clear he