Russian Bastard | A Mafia Novel ✧

Chapter 38

Five AM. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to get the restless voices out of her head. Her body was winning over her mind at this point, dragging her into the darkness without her consent, when she thought she heard the chime of the door opening, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps.

She would know the gait of those footsteps anywhere.

Zeke was back.

Her eyes snapped open, and she tried to sit herself up with little grace. She swung her legs over the edge of the couch just as Zeke came into view.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Neither of them made a single sound, leaving the only noises to be that of the outdoors and the sound of the birds chirping as the sun slowly rose.

Tatiana opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat before trying again. "W-where have you b-been?" She asked quietly, careful not to disturb the tranquil air of the dawn. It felt like if either of them raised their voices even a little bit, their fragile sense of peace would collapse like broken glass.

"Out." Zeke shrugged, an indifferent look on his face.

It saddened her immensely. He'd never looked at her like that before, ever.

"Any place interesting?" She whispered, her voice nearly cracking at the end. It was a poor attempt at making conversation.

"There was no place I wanted to be." He stared at here with those intense blue eyes of his. "The only place I wanted to be was with you." The words were said quietly as if he, too, knew that the quietness helped preserve the fragility of their... relationship—but they hit her like a wrecking ball regardless.

That was the problem, wasn't it, she thought. Neither of them knew where they stood in their forced relationship. And yet, having any kind of relationship with him was all she'd ever wanted since meeting him.

And that's exactly what she told. "Since meeting you, I—" Her voice broke at the sudden rush of emotions.

Zeke ran his hand through his hair. "Mon ange, you're tired—we both are. It has been a taxing day, especially for me."

"I'm sorry," She blurted out, standing up and opening and closing her fists in front of herself in anxiety. "I didn't realize what I was doing and—"

"You didn't realize what you were doing?" Zeke asked in his ever calm voice.

"No." She whispered pathetically.

He only stared at her in silence. A cold, terrifying silence, one that she hoped never to feel again.

She wished he'd shout at her—yell or scream, she didn't care. Anything was better than his utter silence.

"Do you want to know what you were doing out there?" He asked, and didn't give her a chance to respond when he quickly added, "You broke my heart." The look in his eyes fractured like glass, as if something was trying to break free from the thin layer, but he kept it at bay.

Kept himself at bay.

"You broke it into a thousand, minuscule pieces, and left it lying there in my arms as I watched you kiss Ramsey Caldwell back."

"I didn't mean to—I stopped it right away."

"Not soon enough." The words were like a whip lashing at her skin. She didn't even have the energy to use her voice to scream—it was that painful, the point where the pain was so incomprehensibly hurtful that there couldn't possibly be anything worse beyond it.

But there was.

Zeke shook his head, looking away from her before running both his fingers though his hair, pulling on the ends in stress. "Every time I close my eyes—every time I blink—that scene keeps replaying in my head. It doesn't matter that it ended so fast—a second of that was enough to break me." He said so quietly, he might as well have been talking to myself. But she heard them. And each letter, each word, was breaking her as well.

"I'm so pathetic." Zeke laughed without mirth. Her heart went out to him, but he was too far away to reach, not just physically. "If only my father could see me now." He shook his head at himself.

"You're not pathetic." She said quietly. The feeling was faint, but it was there; the anchor that tethered them together was sinking—sinking into depths that were too deep for either of them to swim.

He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't I?" He asked as if he already knew the answer. "I've fallen in love with a woman who doesn't love me back—" At that, her breath caught, making her fidgeting hands still. "I am to be Don and yet I have let my errant fiancé kiss men who are our enemies as I stood there doing nothing but let my heart be smashed to pieces."

It felt like someone punched their way through her gut and was now clawing its way from her inside out. No words could describe the rush and utter joy she felt to know that he loved her—but it was shadowed in the pain of her betrayal to him and their own.

"Zeke—" He shook his head at her, stopping her in her tracks.

"I'm tired, Tatiana." Her name was like him fracturing a line down her heart. He's called her mon ange forever; she hated herself for way he said it in resignation. "And you should go to bed." He said before turning away, dismissing her.

"W-wait." She stumbled after him. "Where are you going?"

"I can't look at you right now. Every time I see your face it's like willingly replaying that scene over and over again. But I'm not leaving the house—because as much as you've hurt me, I could never bring myself to leave your side. Ever."