Painted Scars: Chapter 6

When I get into the kitchen around half past eight, Nina is already finishing her breakfast. Instead of joining her, I pour myself a glass of orange juice and drink it by the counter, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to get up if I sit down now. Warren tormented me for almost two hours this morning in my physical therapy session, and I barely managed to shower and dress after it. I should have taken the wheelchair right away instead of crutches.

“We have to make a small detour before I take you shopping.” I place my empty glass in the sink. “One of my men called about an issue I have to resolve. It won’t take long.”

“Is it okay if we drop by an art supply store, as well? Varya came in earlier to say my work stuff has arrived, but I need to buy more paints.”

“Of course. I’ll tell one of the guys to bring the boxes upstairs. Where do you want them?”

“In front of the window by the bookshelf. If you are okay with me setting up my workspace there? I will cover the floor and won’t make a mess, I promise.”

“Sure.” I nod and turn to head into my bedroom to get my wheelchair when a piercing pain slashes the whole length of my right leg. Fuck. I squeeze my eyes for a second, take a deep breath, and make a small step forward. I manage two more before I have to stop and take a short break.

“Roman?”

I look over my shoulder and find Nina watching me from her spot at the table. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” I nod and continue dragging myself toward the bedroom, trying not to put too much weight on my right leg.

I grab the handle and turn to Nina. “Stay in the car. I won’t be long.”

“Sure, honey.” She smiles and cracks her lips. I shake my head and transfer myself from the car seat to the wheelchair Dimitri, my chief of security, is holding for me.

The warehouse is situated south of the city, on a lawn between two abandoned factories. The ground is rough, which makes it harder to push the wheels, but Dimitri knows damn well not to try and help me. We enter through a big door that’s used for vehicles, and stop in the middle of the huge hall where two of my men stand waiting.

“Who fucked up?” I bark as I enter, with Dimitri following after me.

“The driver,” Mikhail answers. “He was pulled in by a routine patrol for speeding. He was also drunk. The merchandise was confiscated.”

“He was speeding while transporting my drugs. Drunk,” I say, unbelieving. “Where is the idiot?”

“He managed to escape the cops. He is in the back room.”

“Kill him,” I say to Mikhail and turn to Anton. “Make sure the others are warned, so that shit like this doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Pakhan.”

“Show me the map. We’ll need to change that route for the next few shipments.”

It takes us around twenty minutes to set up the alternative route, and we spend almost an hour going over the shipments planned for the following two weeks and making necessary adjustments. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Nina, she is probably getting restless in the car while waiting this long.

When we finally get back to the car, Dimitri opens the door for me, and when I see Nina, I stop in mid-move. She is sitting cross-legged on the back seat, eyes closed. On the phone in her lap a video is on, showing a woman in the same pose, muttering some new-age nonsense while Nina is speaking along. She looks ridiculous. “What are you doing?”

“Purging negative vibrations and channeling positive energy into my chakra points. Vova, here, said he didn’t mind.”

I turn my head to look at our driver. He’s staring straight ahead, feigning composure, but I can see it on his face, he’s barely managing not to burst out laughing.

“Do you want to try it, honey? It does wonders for releasing stress, ” Nina says, sounding completely serious, but I can see a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

“We’ll try something similar when we get home.”

There are three piles of clothes on the bench in the changing room. The biggest one holds the things that don’t fit and cannot be altered. The middle one consists of clothes that are not the best fit—mostly jeans and two dresses—but which could be shortened. The boutique assistant took my measurements earlier, and promised to have them altered by their seamstress, and delivered in two days. These fancy boutiques certainly have outstanding customer service. I give the clothes that need to be shortened to the assistant who is waiting in front of the changing room, and take the smallest pile with me to the cash register. I can’t believe I managed to find something that fits.

Roman pays my purchases with his card, then winds his arm around my waist and leans toward me. “I like that pink thong very much. You’ll wear it for me tonight,” he says and kisses me.

I know he’s doing it only because his man, Dimitri, is in front of us collecting the bags, but I still feel the butterflies raging in my stomach. Dimitri doesn’t comment, pretending nothing out of ordinary is happening, but I noticed the way his eyes widened when he saw us kiss. He is slightly older than Roman—maybe late thirties, handsome, with a few extra pounds around his middle.

Roman’s hand comes to rest on my ass, and he squeezes it lightly.

“Stop ogling my chief of security, Nina,” he says in my ear.

I cock an eyebrow and smile. “Sure, honey.”

We head to the shoe store just next to the boutique, and fifteen minutes later, I am sitting on a chair with at least a dozen boxes scattered on the floor around me. When I see the prices on them, I almost faint and want to go to another store, but Roman doesn’t want to hear it. So here I am, holding a pair of heels that cost a small fortune when I hear Roman approaching. He wheels himself so he’s in front of me and leans in, takes the shoes from my hands, and places them in his lap.

“Left,” he instructs and extends his hand.

I cross my legs and raise my left foot, placing my heel on his palm. He takes a shoe from his lap and, holding my leg around the ankle, slides it onto my foot.

“You have a foot fetish, Roman?”

“No. But it looks like I’m developing one,” he says with his chin tucked and releases my leg. “Right.”

He does the same with each pair, and by the time we’re done, I’m seriously turned on. I had no idea that my feet are an erogenous zone, or maybe it was the way he deliberately caressed the skin around my ankle every single time. I have a feeling that every part of my body would become an erogenous zone if Roman touched it. Of course, I’ll never allow it to come to that.

“We’re taking them all,” he says and motions for Dimitri who is standing by the entrance.

“Are you crazy?” I whisper, making sure Dimitri won’t overhear. “We’ll take only one pair.”

“No.”

“Roman!”

“All of them, Nina. Now, smile.”

“Thank you, honey, I love them!” I beam at him and lean to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Dimitri will take you to the art supply shop and then to the car. Wait for me there. I need to drop by another store, and I’ll be there shortly.”

“Oh, that would be perfect. I’m not good at orienting myself in unfamiliar spaces.”

“I know, love. Don’t worry, it happens to everyone.” He places a quick kiss on my lips and turns to leave the store, and I notice Dimitri watching him with confusion on his face.

“He is so sweet, isn’t he?” I smile at Dimitri who just blinks at me. I quickly turn and head out, so he won’t hear me snorting.