Page 184 of Hate to Love You
He sits at his father’s feet, with the tall dark-haired man’s hand resting on his shoulder. His father looks cold and stoic, with deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.
Lev and Nikolai, the identical twins, sit on either side of what can only be a young Ana. And unsurprisingly the grumpy looking child standing to the side is unmistakably Polina.
“What the actual fuck!”
Roman’s voice startles me, thundering from across the penthouse, followed by Caesar barking.
“Woah! Chill!” A familiar voice shouts defensively. “Chill!”
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Roman snaps. “And what are you doing here?!”
“Pasha said it was cool!” Another man shouts.
Setting the picture back down, I stroll forward, heading toward the commotion.
“Why the fuck are you locked in the bathroom?!” Roman bellows, followed again by Caesar barking. “What the fuck are you both doing in your boxers?”
As I round the corner, I see Pasha, and a man I don’t recognize crawling out of the bathroom with their hands raised in the air…wearing just their boxers.
“Answer me!” Roman barks, still pointing his gun at them both.
“Sorry, Mr. Scary Russian Man,” the strange man hiccups. “We were just in here looking for…erm…”
“Looking for what?”
“Condoms.” Pasha finishes for him.
Slowly, Roman lowers his gun.
“Condoms?” He asks, confused.
“Yeah, for the girls…”
“What fucking girls?”
“Oh…aren’t they out there?” Pasha asks, confused, straining his neck trying to look around a towering Roman. “They were just sitting in the living—”
“There’s no one out here!” Roman snaps. “What fucking girls are you talking about?”
“Um,” Pasha clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head. “The girls…we ordered…from Jewel Rose.”
Roman mutters something in Russian running his hand through his hair before turning to see me, smirking, and leaning against the wall watching the shit show unfold.
“Put on some fucking clothes,” he hisses at them both. “There’s a lady present.”
“Really? Where?” The unknown man says, excitedly looking around Roman. “Oh! Hello there, Miss—”
“Wesley!” Pasha snaps, elbowing him in the ribs.
Wesley’s smile fades the moment Roman steps forward, blocking me from view, and muttering something under his breath that makes Wesley sit back on his heels and lower his head submissively.
“Yes, Mr. Scary…erm…I mean, Mr. Antonov,” he whispers quietly. “My apologies.”
“Get. Fucking. Dressed.”
Roman’s tone is terrifying as he steps away from them both and turns to me.
As he walks down the hall, Caesar bolts forward excitedly, licking my hand with his tail whipping around.