Split Love

CHAPTER 46

MIKHAIL ROMANOV

The mindless talk about the mob's constant dealings bored Micah. If it wasn't that, then it was some other frivolous shit the guys were mumbling about. He took a deep breath and entered his phone's text messages once again. But there was no new message. He was starting to lose his patience. His foot tapped against the floor in a steady rhythm.

Where are you? He asked himself again and again.

Micah cursed and stood up. His patience was reaching its limit and he needed to be alone.

- Everything okay, Roman? - Damien asked, making him stop in his tracks.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a moment. He didn't wanna talk, didn't the stupid notice? But it was Damien, his half-brother and the youngest. Micah always had a soft side to him.

- Just get on with this shit without me. - He said without looking back and went to his office.

He passed the windows lit by the afternoon sun. His shadow moved across the walls to the last door on the left. Micah stopped at the liquor cabinet and took the bottle of The Balvenie 25 and an empty glass from the silver tray. He walked over to his leather armchair behind his desk and sat down on the cool seat, exhausted. He pressed her name on the screen and leaving his phone on speaker, he waited.

He opened the bottle and leaned forward, pouring a healthy dose of whiskey. He placed the bottle on the wooden table and rested his body back. His hand positioned the glass under his nose and inhaled the soft fruity tones, honey, and ginger and took a much-needed sip. The strong flavor of vanilla and oak infused with cinnamon burned down his throat.

The call went to voicemail and he tried calling the library another 3 times, but each one was unsuccessful. Micah poured another shot and drank it in one gulp, trying to calm the strange anxiety that was growing in his chest. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes, hoping the alcohol would ease him. He clenched the fists holding the arms of his chair until his knuckles were pale.

That had been a bad day. One damn bad day and that anxiety said it was about to get worse. He grimaced, hating that unfamiliar feeling. He hated the feeling Jasmine brought him. So vulnerable. He felt exposed, like a wounded soldier without armor, ready for any attack.

Micah was used to fighting, to extensive bruises on his skin, and even the burning of the hole a gunshot made in his flesh. But Jasmine was different. Everything was different with her and he was still getting used to the fact that he loved someone. He loved her, he no longer had any doubts about that. And although it was an unknown and painful feeling, he would trade everything for her. Just her.

3:40pm - Micah: Did you talk to Jamie today?

3:41pm - Irina: What happened?

3:41pm - Micah: She's not answering her phone.

3:41pm - Irina: Maybe you're such a pain in the ass that she decided to find someone else.

Out of patience, he blocked his cellphone. He wanted to curse everyone around him, including his sister. Again, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Silence filled the room as the drink took effect. He would wait. He was a patient man and he wasn't going to lose that quality for a woman who didn't answer his calls. No. He would wait and she would show up.

Micah enjoyed the silence and tried to stifle the problems that were snapping in his face, the weapons purchase with the Bolivians that got out of control with the arrival of the police, the Irishman trapped in the basement, and now...

The office door opened, interrupting the stillness, and Micah opened his eyes in alert.

- What? - He grunted.