The Marriage (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 3) Bethany-Kris (read this if txt) 📖

up to the hotel room had been another part of her nightmare.

Tears filled her eyes when she realized she was alone. It’d been a long time since she last saw him, and she was starting to forget what it was like to hear his voice.

When she searched her quiet mind, expecting Katina’s eager and commanding voice to ring through, she heard nothing.

Karine ran to the bathroom to stare at her own reflection, finding tear-stains streaking her cheeks and droplets still hanging from her lashes. When she blinked in the mirror, the tears fell. At least, the visible color in her cheeks that had been missing from her face for days was starting to return.

Not much else could be said for the exhausted, crying girl staring back at her in the mirror.

“You’re always beautiful, babe. Even when you cry.”

Karine’s eyes shifted to the reflection of Roman in the mirror. His figure stood behind hers in the doorway of the bathroom, his handsome chiseled face was set in a soft expression as he regarded her. His beard was neat and freshly cut. Even the longer part of his hair on top had been brushed into a high quiff. With his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his pants, Roman stood with his legs apart, firmly planted on the tiled floor.

With authority and power.

Just like she remembered him.

Karine clutched the edge of the sink, and shut her eyes. You’re still dreaming, she told herself. It’s not real. She took in two deep breaths, slow and steady, the only thing that helped when she was starting to lose control.

“It’s just in my head. This is not real,” she muttered out loud.

“It’s not just in your head, Karine. Turn around and look at me.”

His deep voice filled her soul. She opened her eyes, and stared at the mirror again. He was still there in the reflection. Standing behind her, waiting.

Was she getting worse?

Her dreams were turning into hallucinations, taking over her life. Fear was her constant companion. The only thing she counted on.

Then, he came towards her, his smile growing as he reached out and touched her shoulder. She felt that—the pressure of his big hand, and thick long fingers wrapping around her before he spun her around in a flash.

That was real.

He was really there.

Roman hooked a finger under her chin, leaning down until their lips nearly touched, and she felt that, too. “I’m sorry—for everything. You really thought I could stay away from you?”

ELEVEN

Roman was still high when Marky knocked his door down. No, literally, the asshole kicked it open when he didn’t answer.

He hadn’t heard him knocking or his phone ringing because the music was too loud in the loft.

The first thing Marky did was turn the music off.

Roman was in nothing but his gym shorts, unbothered by the sight that greeted his friend. His place was a mess. He hadn’t bothered to pick up the takeout containers or bottles from the night before.

What did it matter?

“Cut this shit out,” Marky barked at Roman. “Who plays music that fucking loud, anyway?”

It made him laugh.

The music was the problem?

Hilarious.

“You want something?” he asked Marky, throwing himself into the couch where lines of coke were neatly arranged on a broken shard of mirror.

He couldn’t even remember how it all got there. Did he do this all himself? Because it was exactly what he was looking for.

Pressing one nostril down, he held the mirror up to his face so he could snort with the other one through the rolled-up hundred dollar bill he’d left on the glass. Marky’s voice droned on, but it was nothing more than a buzz in his ears.

He pinched his nose because it tingled for a few seconds—burning right before adrenaline shot through his body like his veins were on fire.

There.

He’d be up for another eight-hour run, at least. Who fucking needed sleep?

He grinned at Marky.

“Do you even see yourself, man? Why don’t you hold the mirror up and take a good look at yourself,” Marky snarled.

His friend even dared do swipe out at the piece of glass with the remnants of powder in Roman’s hand, but coke made him faster—better. Tossing it aside, he threw his arms out on either side of him, getting comfortable again.

“What is your problem, bro?” Roman asked, laughing even though he knew it would only piss his friend off more. He just didn’t understand why.

Who cared if Roman destroyed his life?

It was already gone.

“Why are you here and why won’t you leave me alone? I don’t remember telling you to come over.” Roman looked over at the door and the damage Marky had done by making his way through, pointing at it as he said, “And shit—you better fix that door before you fucking leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you answer my questions.”

Excuse me?

Roman cocked a brow. “I don’t have to do shit, actually.”

“No, you don’t have to do anything, at least nothing I ask. But your father isn’t too far behind. Everyone knows something is up with you, Rome. You’ve been out of the picture for over a week, man. Your parents are asking questions, and I’m running out of excuses here.”

“I was in a fucking car accident that nearly killed me. How about that? Maybe I just need some time to recover from it. Huh?”

That good feeling was settling in, the coke really getting to his brain and shutting off those overworked, overactive nerves. He wasn’t heavy or light, just weightless. Just there. He wasn’t angry or sad, he felt nothing.

He was finally numb.

Couldn’t they let him be numb?

Best of all—he didn’t have to worry about Karine when he was like this. She was a distant memory, and he wanted to keep her that way for the moment because otherwise—well, that hurt.

“That is not what this is about. You’re getting fucked up because of your wife—pretty pathetic you’re willing to lie about it, man.”

“I’m getting fucked up because I can,” Roman retorted.

Too hotly.

Not able to stand the scrutiny