Page 8 of Conceal

But I can't.

I won't.

I can love her and keep her from ever finding it, if it means keeping our friendship safe. I'm obviously not 'the one' for her, even if she's 'the one' for me. She's never looked at me as anything more than a friend. All of the years I've been standing right in front of her, hearts in my eyes, she's never seen it.

So, when I hold her in my arms tonight and drift to sleep, I'll imagine a life in which she's mine, and I'm hers. Where I'm able to take her away from her shitty family, and give her the life she wants. Where I'll romance her, wine and dine her, even though I have no money of my own. I'll take her on grand adventures, like riding from Lima to Machu Picchu on horseback, or the Mongolian horse races. I'll raise our children while she shows her art off in galleries around the world. I could write an encyclopedia of all of the ways I would love her - worship her.

She's not sobbing, but I can tell she's trying to regulate her breathing. I stare Lev down, who's leaning his ass against the teacher's table, legs crossed at the ankle, arms crossed across his chest. He glares right back at me, but I've been around him long enough to know he's probably more pissed at himself than anyone else. He's vibrating with anger, and I know this isn't the right time to push anyone here. They both need time to calm down.

"Why don't we skip algebra and head to the barn early? Nothing like horse therapy to calm us all down, right?" Driving her to the barn will give him something to do, and time apart while she rides will be good for both of them. Then I can pull him aside and tell him to fucking apologize.

I know it feels like a big deal to her right now, but by this weekend, when every sorority and fraternity has their parties, and people hook up with other people, drama will happen and Lev's little outburst in the History of Fine Arts will be long forgotten.

She nods sadly against my chest, grips my baggy sleeve, and wipes her nose with it. I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of my chest at the perfectly ridiculous thing she just did, and how so Tati it was. She still reminds me of the young girl who found me some days - all innocence and sweetness. And I like how she just knew I wouldn't mind walking around with her snot on my sleeve.

I'm still laughing when she looks up at me, her blue eyes glassy with tears, but we're pressed together, chest to chest. I like how much taller than her I am, how I can look down at her when she's wrapped in my arms. How I can see every freckle that peppers her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. The freckles that sometimes she accentuates with fake ones made out of makeup, and other times she tries to hide them.

But my smile falls when her lips tip up, pleased with my laughter. We're face to face - inches away from each other. It would be nothing to dip my head and finally kiss her. I'd place my thumb at her chin and press my lips to hers. It would be the easiest and most devastating thing I've ever done.

Would she kiss me back? Would she be disgusted? Would she be devastated? I don't want her to think I'm only a male friend who is sticking around until she gives in and gives me more. I know she knows we're not like that, but what if she doubts our friendship or my motives?

Luckily, Lev clears his throat, clearly picking up the danger of the moment, and I drop my arms.

"Let's go to the barn," I say, looping my arm in hers, and we do just that.

Chapter seven

Roman

Ipull up to the barn, and in an instant I know something's wrong. Mik's in his usual spot, leaning his forearms on the arena wall and videoing Tatiana so she can review her riding later. She has a three-day eventing competition in a month, and she's extremely hard on herself.

But it's Lev's body language that's a red flag.

I park the SUV and get out, walking straight to the fuming man leaning against the side of the barn, scowling.

"What did you do?"

"Why is it always me?!" he retorts, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

I don't even bother giving him the answer he already knows.

He looks down, glowering at the gravel. "I embarrassed her today. Made a scene in one of her classes," he grumbles miserably before looking back up at me. "They were whispering behind her back and staring at her. The entire campus was. Leo must have told people she was sleeping with Mik."

I suppress a grin because, yeah; they do sleep together, even if they've never had sex. If that boy would get out of his own way, he could have her. I know he could. She loves him with her entire heart; she just doesn't know that that love could turn romantic the minute she gives it breathing room. Jealousy sours in my gut.

Because she's right there for him to reach out and take, and I could never be a part of her life. Her father would kill me. I'm a lowly soldier in his empire - nowhere near the ranks where he might consider it. Plus, I'm a decade older than her. It doesn't matter that I fell for her slowly over the years.

That's the problem with being with her daily for the past four years. I've gotten to know her. The real her.

Everyone else sees the skin care routine, the designer clothes, the expensive bags. The way she complains if her coffee is made wrong or if Mikhail steals the last of her oat milk or if Lev puts his boots on her coffee table.

They see a spoiled Bratva princess.

But I know her. I know the girl who sweet-talks to her parakeet, who apologizes to her horse if she's late getting to the barn. I know the girl who paints until two in the morning because she has too much emotion and nowhere safe to put it. I know the girl who tries to make herself easy to love, not realizing there's nothing difficult about loving her.

But that's not what this is about.

"What did she say?"