Page 186 of Hate to Love You
After my impromptu nap in the car my throat feels drier than the Sahara Desert.
Seeing some organic dog treats on the counter I open the bag and Caesar wags his tail.
Of course, Roman would have organic dog treats.
“Here you go buddy,” I say to the pup, who is expectantly offering me his paw.
I bend down to shake it and pet his head, before rising to my feet. Still thirsty, I begin opening cupboards until I find a glass, and turn to the refrigerator looking for something to drink.
I wonder what Mr. Antonov eats when he’s not in the office.
However, my curiosity is disappointed when I find it empty. Well, apart from a singular can of cheap beer, which somehow, I suspect isn’t his.
Rolling my eyes I head over to the black marble sink, filling my glass.
Taking a deep breath, I lift the glass to my lips, but pause as the smell of flowers suddenly fills my nose. Turning I look for the source of the smell, hunting until my eyes land on two singular roses just laying on the kitchen island.
Immediately I recognize the flowers, and my jaw drops.
What kind of monster leaves this type of rose drying on the counter?! Why didn’t they put them in water? Do they have any idea how fucking expensive they are?
Actually, that gives me an idea.
Gently picking them up I take them over to the counter by the sink. Placing them inside the glass in my hand I immediately grab some paper towel and run it under the faucet. As I wring it out in the sink, Roman comes storming into the kitchen, with Pasha close on his heels.
“I cannot believe you paid to get your dick wet, and somehow get your ass locked in the bathroom while those bitches robbed my penthouse.”
“I know, I know, this is bad.”
“Bad?!” Roman roars. “Pasha! Bad doesn’t even cover it you fucking idiot!”
My eyes jump between the pair of them, noticing that Wesley is absent from the conversation, having conveniently managed to creep away.
Probably wise given the mood Roman is in, and the lethal glare he was shooting at him earlier.
Opening the nearest drawer, and then the one beside it, finding what I was looking for: the knives.
Grabbing the biggest sharpest blade I see, I close the drawer and turn around.
“Woah!” Pasha yells, throwing his hands up, his eyes wide.
Roman glances from Pasha to me before cocking his brow at the knife in my hand.
“Abby, I know you just shot someone…But how about you put the knife down?”
“She did what?” Pasha exclaims.
I shrug, and roll my eyes, ignoring them both and grabbing the wet paper towel from the sink. I swipe the glass with the flowers and settle onto a stool at the kitchen island.
Removing a rose from the cup, I lay it gently on the cold marble and gingerly cut straight down the bottom, careful not to slice all the way through.
“Abby…”
“Do you know how expensive these are?”
“I’ll buy you whatever flowers you want.”
“No, Roman, you don’t understand, these are Juliet Roses, they can only be found in one place and tha—”