Page 103 of Bratva's Mercy
31
SERGEI
The furniture store was the last place I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon, much less enjoy it. I was there out of necessity because Leo deserved to sleep on a proper bed, and as long as we were there, why not pick out a few other pieces of furniture too? On my own, it would have taken an hour, tops, to get everything I needed.
Yet somehow, three hours later, I was still trailing behind Leo through another massive showroom while he studied couches with the concentration of a surgeon preparing for a complicated operation. We’d already picked out an eight-piece dining room set, rugs, lamps, a bed frame, and enough knick-knacks that I was beginning to understand why people hired interior designers instead of doing this themselves.
Apparently, furnishing a home required far more emotional investment than I had considered giving to the experience.
Especially when Leo got involved. He was precise about every pick as if he had already envisioned what my housewould look like furnished, and nothing else was good enough. I secretly liked how invested he was, though I was of little help. He cared too much for a man who was thinking about backstabbing me with that SD card. Maybe I was wrong, and he really hadn’t taken it. Or if he truly had, he didn’t seem inclined to use the information, given he was still hanging around. I could forgive him for taking it, especially since he was unlikely to crack the code, but if he did use it, we could never come back from that.
“What about this one?” I asked, pointing at a random beige sectional. If we didn’t choose something soon, we would miss our other appointment, which he still knew nothing about.
It was probably strange to buy a new car for a man who might very well be planning to betray me, but I hoped my sincerity would convince him to do the right thing. I loved him so damn much that I’d do whatever it took to keep him, even if everyone else thought I was a fool for it.
Leo wrinkled his nose as if I’d just offered him a fart. “I don’t think that fits the room at all.”
I barely refrained from reminding him that the room right now was empty. Anything would fit.
“It’s beige,” I pointed out. “Last time you said it needed to be beige.”
“Yes, but this is the wrong beige.”
I folded my arms across my chest and studied it harder as if that would somehow reveal its hidden flaws. “You said that about the last one, too.”
“Because that one was greige.”
I looked at him flatly, hiding how much I loved bickering with him like an old married couple. “That’s not a real word.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You made it up five minutes ago.”
Leo rolled his eyes and kept walking before I couldcontinue arguing, though I caught the faint twitch near his mouth that signaled he was trying not to laugh. The sight of it warmed something stupidly soft in my chest.
The entire afternoon had felt strangely easy between us. There was no tension hanging over our heads for once. No discussions about Maxim, his dead husband, or all the ugly things constantly circling our lives. Here, beneath warm lighting and surrounded by staged living rooms, we looked normal. Just two men shopping for furniture together on a Saturday afternoon.
Nobody here knew I was carrying a gun under my jacket.
Nobody here knew Leo had once hated me.
And for a few hours, it almost felt like none of it existed.
I watched him move through another display setup, exhaustion lingering around the edges of his face after his long shift at the hospital. He still looked tired, but lighter somehow. Less guarded. Every now and then, he would absentmindedly brush against me while walking or point at another piece of furniture and ask my opinion before immediately ignoring whatever answer I gave him.
I didn’t mind. Actually, I liked following him around like this more than I should have.
Damn. Was this what it felt like to be…domesticated? And why didn’t it bother me?
“You know,” I said when he rejected another couch, “if this were up to me, we would’ve bought the first sofa we saw and been home two hours ago so you could rest.”
“I think after you showed me that horrendous brown leather couch that looked suspiciously like poop, we concluded you have no taste at all.” Leo glanced at me over his shoulder, his smile softening his words. “And that’s whyI’mmaking the decisions.”
“I can make decisions too. We’re spending my money, aren’t we?”
He snorted, raised an eyebrow, then leaned in to whisper so the store clerk helping us out wouldn’t hear. “And? Let’s not forget you’ve had me fucking you on a mattress on the floor for the past couple of weeks. I’ll pick out whatever I want, and you’ll let me. Won’t you, dollface?”
My throat went dry, and I could only manage a nod as he walked off, looking quite smug.
