She wasn’t cocaine.
“I’ve never had oysters before, either,” she admitted.
Karine’s nose crinkled in the cutest way when he drizzled lemon juice from a ready-made slice over an oyster.
“I have a feeling you’ll be good at it. Now, just open your mouth wide,” he said, flicking the flesh with a fork to loosen it from its shell. Karine sat up, tipping her head back a bit and jutting her chin out when he brought the shell closer to her mouth. “Trust me.”
“It looks disgusting.”
“Eat enough, and apparently you’ll want to fuck all night.”
“Really?”
He arched a brow, considering that. “Well, that’s what people say. I don’t really know. Just try it. It’s going to be an ... unusual texture, but since you swallow me well—”
“Roman.”
“Swallow like a good girl.”
Roman slid the oyster into her mouth once she parted those stubborn lips for him, and she did exactly that. She had a smile on her face when she faced him again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Well?” he asked.
“I want another.”
Roman chuckled.
Of course.
He was already reaching for the next shell. Anything for her.
*
They’d eaten all the oysters and drank most of the champagne by the time the television on the other side of the room stopped playing the first episode of a series that Karine had seemed interested in when he scrolled through the options. He could see she was tipsy by the way she watched him through half-closed lids where she’d perched her chin atop her hands on his hard stomach.
He had the best view of her naked body stretched out before him, and the reflection of her curves in the glass to enjoy, as well. Roman was a happy man—for once—in the silence.
Karine just didn’t stay that way for long.
Not that he minded.
“I sometimes wonder if they ever had moments like these, you know?”
“Who?” he asked.
“My father and mother. When they first got married, I mean, before I was born.”
She’d stopped looking at him, and Roman couldn’t bring himself to force her to stare him in the face as she spilled her pain. Her traumas seemed hard for her to share, and he wasn’t cruel enough to make it worse.
“Maybe they were in love once, too,” she added, rolling her head a bit to glance up at him. He swiped at the tip of her nose with the pad of his thumb, enjoying the red flush that spread over her cheeks at the touch and his attention. “Maybe they were like us once, if you know what I mean? He never spoke about her after she died. So, I don’t know anything about her but what someone might say, and they know better than to say anything. He’d—”
Karine stopped, then, shaking her head. “I don’t even really remember her.”
“Did he only have the one wife?”
“No, and he wasn’t very faithful, either. I wouldn’t say he was a good husband. Or maybe he just isn’t a very good man. I’m not really sure.”
Roman grunted under his breath, and at her questioning stare, he shrugged. “I don’t know your father well enough to form an opinion on that. Somehow, he made friends with my father, though. That does make me wonder if there’s ... something there. Someone there.”
Whether it was someone good ... that was up for debate. Not one he particularly wanted to have.
Karine nodded, closing her eyes. “When we were kids, when Katina—when she was still around, he was a different man. I was just a child, but I have distinct memories of him being a dad. Like ... an actual dad. Does that make sense?”
Roman admired the soft smile on her face while she continued to speak with her eyes closed. “It does.”
“He used to give me piggyback rides, and have dinner with us every night, and ask Katina to tell him all about her day. He was so proud of her.”
She opened her eyes again, and he saw the tears she’d probably fought to hide, but in the end just couldn’t. They fell down her cheeks, making tracks that he quickly swept away before she could say a thing otherwise.
Katina.
The missing link in Karine’s past—the older sister who undoubtedly would have shaped a good portion of her life had she not been taken too soon. In the cruelest card the universe had ever dealt—her sister was murdered by the man Karine was supposed to marry. Roman certainly understood why all of those details made her memories all the more painful.
He still wished he could take it away.
Weaving his fingers with hers, Karine bit her lip while the tears still streaked her cheeks, more falling with her next blink. She could cry without making a sound. Not even a whimper. That probably cut him the most.
Who had taught her to hide sadness?
Why didn’t her pain matter, too?
“I know it’s kinda hard to believe,” she eventually said.
“It’s not the Maxim I’ve known,” Roman admitted.
“It’s not the Maxim he has been in a very long time. Not since Katina died. Well, before even ... it started with his wives dying, I think, and only got worse. He buried that pain in women and work, and only brought us out when he was happy or pretending to be. He stopped pretending altogether when Katina died. Her death snuffed what humanity he had left in him. I reminded him of her in different ways; sometimes, it scared him. I ... acted strangely. I changed overnight, and so did he.”
Karine shuddered when Roman pulled her into his arms, trying desperately to rid her face of the tears while she apologized.
“Sorry. God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be ... I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Bring anything up—everything. I want to hear you talk for hours about anything on your mind. I don’t care if
