Groaning, I roll toward the alarm clock and slap it.
My eyelids feel like they’ve been cemented shut. Prying them open takes a Herculean effort. Unable to force my limbs into action, I lay in bed as memories of yesterday assault me.
Roman is an undercover police officer.
Never in a million years could I have foreseen this. If anything, I’d wondered if he worked for the Russians.
But the police?
The Chicago PD?
No. I feel completely blindsided by the revelation. What am I going to do? Acknowledging what a mess this situation is makes me burrow deeper under the covers, wishing I could stay in bed for the rest of the day. Maybe the next few. I had a difficult time falling asleep after getting home because my mind wouldn’t click off. As a result, I feel tired and irritable.
I would love to call in sick, but can’t.
Two parent meetings and an IEP are on my agenda for today. These parents have rearranged their schedules to come in and discuss their children’s educational needs, which means I have to pull myself together and act like the professional I pride myself on being. I’ll figure out what recourse to take with Roman afterward.
It’s not a matter of if I tell my family about what I’ve discovered. It’s when.
When the alarm goes off a second time, I groan, roll out of bed, and get dressed. I trudge into the bathroom and wince after catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like I’ve been put through the wringer. Purplish bruises sit under my eyes. My normally olive-toned skin is pasty. Applying makeup helps, but doesn’t work miracles.
My gut feels like it’s been twisted into a series of complicated knots. I should eat something before heading out the door, but I have no appetite.
Last night’s conversation with Roman echoes through my brain. Even after hearing the truth directly from him, I still find it difficult to accept.
Walking into the kitchen, I stifle a scream as I find the man I was just thinking about sitting at the table with two cups of steaming coffee in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, nowhere near ready to face him yet.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
The ever-present attraction that hums between us sparks to life, leaving me even more unsettled.
Roman is a traitor.
My father will more than likely kill him. That thought alone makes my blood turn into ice. As angry as I am with Roman, I don’t want him dead.
I shove aside my conflicting feelings and rub my temples to stave off the headache brewing behind them. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this with you right now.” Exhaustion has my emotions prickling much too close to the surface. I need time to rein them in and settle down.
“Let me drive you to work,” he cajoles, “we can talk in the car.”
I grimace at the idea of being trapped inside a vehicle with him for fifteen minutes. If anyone’s capable of breaking me down, it’s this man. I have to protect the tattered pieces of my heart. “No, I don’t want to be alone with you.”
He slides one of the to-go cups to the middle of the table. He knows I usually start my day off with coffee. Two packets of sugar and a creamer rest on the plastic lid. It doesn’t escape me that this is precisely the way I like it.
I’ve craved his undivided attention for so long. And now that I have it, I feel like I’m going to come right out of my skin. It’s laughable.
To keep my hands busy, I add the cream and sugar to my cup. I catch a whiff of freshly roasted beans while lifting it to my lips. It’s normally an aroma that I suck in greedily. It wakes me up and puts me in a good mood. This time, however, I’m hit with a wave of intense nausea. Fingers shaking, I set the cup down as my belly pitches and roils.
“Sofia?” Roman’s brows beetle together. “What’s wrong?”
Inhaling a deep breath, I flatten my hand against my tummy. “Nothing. I’m just not in the mood for coffee this morning.”
It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if these terrible feelings are the aftereffect of last night’s emotional upheaval. Lack of sleep and anxiety can be an unpleasant tonic. Working in the counseling profession, I know better than most the toll stress can take on your body.
“We need to finish discussing our situation at some point,” Roman says.
That may be true, but I can’t handle an emotionally charged conversation with him this morning. Not before work. And not when I feel so raw.
“You dropped a major bomb on me,” I snap. “You have no right to come in here and expect me to have already processed everything in a few short hours. I’m sorry, but I need more time.”
“I know.” He glances down at his coffee. “I told my superiors weeks ago that I couldn’t continue this assignment. They’ve been working to pull me out. Five years is a long time, too long to be undercover.”
Grasping the back of a chair, I lower myself down as another stark realization dawns. In a harsh whisper, I accuse, “That’s why you put an expiration date on our relationship, isn’t it?”
God, I’m such an idiot.
He nods. “Yeah.”
A fresh wave of anger hits me. “You were going to disappear without saying a word, weren’t you?”
I didn’t think it was possible to feel more pissed off and hurt, but the shards of pain stabbing through me prove otherwise. After sleeping in each other’s arms and making love all hours of the night the last few weeks, he was going to disappear without so much as a goodbye.
“What else was I supposed to do?” he retorts, aggravation crackling his voice. “You were never meant to discover that I was anyone other than Roman Santori, the guy who worked for your father. We weren’t supposed to get involved.”
I blink back tears, refusing to let him see how much he’s shattered me. “You should have done us both a favor and never given in.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Don’t you think I know that?” he asks in a low, ugly snarl. “Don’t you think I fought my feelings every single goddamn day? Every fucking moment was a battle. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. You have to believe that.”
Unable to listen any more, I stand. “I don’t know what to believe. I need to get to work.”
“I expected you to call Enzo last night.” He tilts his head. “Why didn’t you?”
I look away.
That’s an excellent question. One I’ve asked myself a million times already. I should have called my father right after getting in the cab.
Papa would have snapped up Roman by now.
Which is precisely why I didn’t do anything.
Because I can’t sentence the man I love to death.
My shoulders slump as I acknowledge my own truths. This delay doesn’t mean I won’t tell my family. It just means I haven’t placed that call yet. I’d hoped Roman would tell his superiors that his cover had been blown and disappear off the face of the earth.
But he’s here, sitting in my kitchen.
Ignoring his question, I ask, “Why did you come back?”
“I told you last night that I wasn’t going to leave you.” He straightens his shoulders. “I won’t go underground.”
My already cracked heart shudders. How can I believe anything he says?
Roman has already proven himself to be an adept liar.
I take a step back, then another, until I’m at the doorway leading to the front hall. “That’s exactly what you need to do. You need to leave.” I gulp and add, “And don’t ever return. I can’t keep this kind of information a secret from my father. I won’t risk the safety of my family.”
He stands and remains still. “Sofia, please, just give me some time to figure this shit out. There has to be a way for us to make this work. I’ll speak with Enzo—”
I shake my head furiously and take another backward step. “They’ll kill you if you stay.” Tears splash on my cheeks. “As much as I hate you for all the lies and deceit, I don’t want to see that happen.” I wipe the wetness away with the back of my hand.
“Sofia—” he pleads, desperation threaded through his voice.
“No! We’re on opposite sides of the same damn coin. No matter how much we try, that will never change. Don’t you understand?”
The hope shining in his eyes dims. “I’m asking for a day. Two at the most. Just give me that before you do anything rash. My feelings for you were always real.”
My knees wobble. I just want to curl up into a tight ball until the pain of his betrayal dissipates. “Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
When he takes a step toward me, I turn and flee to the entryway, where I grab my purse and keys. I race to my car and lock myself inside. As I slide the key in the ignition, Roman pounds a fist on the window.
“Open the damn door, Sofia! Don’t leave!” he yells, delivering another blow that makes the glass shake.
I ignore him—which is the hardest thing I’ve ever done—and shift into reverse. The tires squeal as I peel out of the driveway. Slamming on the brakes, my head smacks the headrest. My heart bangs against my ribcage as I press on the gas, thankful for no oncoming traffic. I keep my eyes trained on the street because I don’t want to know if Roman is in pursuit.
If he’s smart, he’ll tell his lieutenant that he’s been made.
If my father or brothers get their hands on him…
He’s a dead man.