20
R oman was seeing red as he glared at the motherfucker in front of him. The one who had dared sneak into his home and put his hands on his wife. The thought of some asshole touching Alessandra was enough to drive him wild, but actually seeing it was making him insane.
He'd trusted her. Fuck, as stupid as it was of him, he had trusted Rossetti’s offspring.
And then she'd gone and fucked around with another man. It felt like she’d rammed a sharp knife straight into his fucking chest and his heart was bleeding out right there on the patio floor, for the entire world to see.
Served him right for being so gullible. Vitaly would have a field day with it if he found out.
The only reason Roman had returned home was to retrieve a file he'd forgotten in the study. Alek was with him because they were both headed in the same direction. Such a menial task in essence, and still, so monumental all the same. One simple decision had served to drop the thick veil covering his eyes for the past two months since he’d married a fucking Rossetti.
Through the chaos in his mind, he wondered how long it had been going on. Did she betray him from the very beginning? The mere notion she could be so deceitful made his chest tighten with anger and something more vulnerable that he refused to acknowledge.
“Roman, look at me.” Alek's voice pulled him out of the dark vortex that were his thoughts. “We don't need the complication.”
“He's a dead man,” Roman responded, his voice deceptively calm. His entire body was anything but calm, every inch of him wound up tight and ready to detonate.
“We can't risk a war with them, brat . You know this.”
If he weren't so out of his mind with rage, Roman would have found his brother’s remark amusing. When had the little shit become the voice of reason?
Even though Alek hadn’t met Luca Morano before, he was smart enough to put two and two together. Risking a war to prove a point was indeed a bad move. But in his state, Roman didn’t really give a fuck about consequences as long as he got to see the bastard’s brains scattered around his backyard.
He took a step forward, finger itching to pull that trigger and end it all right then and there. “And he should know that going after another man’s wife will get you killed.”
Alek pushed him back again. “Shit, listen to yourself. You're not thinking clearly.”
“Get out of my way, Alek,” Roman said in a low voice, not taking his eyes away from Morano’s face. The son of a bitch had the audacity to smirk.
“No. You will let me handle this.”
This time, Roman shot his brother an irritated look. “I am your Brigadier and I give the orders, not the other way around.”
“And I am your brother, and I don't give a fuck. Let me deal with him.” When that seemed to have no effect, he said in a more urgent voice, “Roman.”
For the first time, Roman could see just how rigid Alek’s body was.
Everything about his posture screamed tension, and that realization was enough to bring him to his senses.
As a Brigadier, it was his duty to handle situations like this.
Letting a woman affect his judgement was unacceptable, no matter who she was.
Forcing himself to get a grip, he moved his eyes to the Italian bastard who still had his gun pointed at them.
“You're fucking dead,” Roman said again, making it sound like a promise.
Morano smiled, though it was shadowed by the darkness descending over his eyes at the threat. “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”
“Roman.” Alek was practically begging at this point.
“Get him out of here,” Roman said, forcing himself to pull the safety and tuck the gun under his suit jacket.
As he turned around and walked inside, he didn’t even think about what he was doing, already running on autopilot.
He headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time and gunning straight for the bedroom.
The door slammed against the wall when he entered, his head swarming with uncertainty and his body brimming with aggression.
Alessandra was sitting on the bed, face hidden behind her hands. She jumped when she heard the commotion, falling back and bracing against the mattress as she pulled herself across the bed and away from him. The towel that was wrapped around her slid down her torso, revealing her bikini top.
“How long?” he gritted, his eyes moving from the tiny piece of fabric to her face.
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. For how long have you been seeing him behind my back?”
She shook her head, chest heaving with her breaths. “I haven't. He just showed up today. I-I didn't know he was coming. You have to believe me.”
White-hot anger engulfed him. She dared lie to his face? “No, I don't have to believe anything that comes out of your mouth. Was this your plan all along? Gain my trust so you can do whatever the fuck you wanted with that asshole?”
Alessandra looked horrified. “No!”
“Is your father in on this? You giving them information through Morano?”
“What information,” she said, sounding confused and a bit exasperated. When Roman didn't answer, her face clouded with fear. “Did you hurt him?”
In two steps, he was on her, one rough hand grabbing her by the throat and pulling her face so close their lips almost touched.
It made him so mad she was asking about that motherfucker, he could barely contain himself.
The compulsion to squeeze the breath from her lungs licked at the darkest corner of his mind.
It would be so easy to increase the pressure on his grip and watch the life leave her traitorous eyes.
Her first reaction was to grab his wrist to stop him from suffocating her to death. But when his fingers tightened around her delicate neck, she became limp in his grip, brown eyes filling with unshed tears.
Roman released her, pulling back as if she'd burned him. Nausea coated his throat and scorched his airflow.
“We're done,” he rasped with finality. He turned around to leave, and she called after him, her soft voice a mixture of desperation and hurt.
“Roman, wait, please!”
Ignoring her plea, he’d almost walked out of the room when he spotted her phone lying on top of the dresser. Instinct kicked in, making him reach for the device.
“Password,” he demanded, his back to her.
Her only answer was a quiet sniffle.
“Fucking now,” he growled menacingly.
“My birthday.”
She was crying, but he didn’t care. He shoved the phone into his pocket roughly and made his way back downstairs.
Alek met him at the bottom of the stairs.
“Where is he?”
“Gone,” his brother said gruffly, not offering more information. Unable to stand still for another second, Roman headed for the front door. “Where are you going?”
He didn't answer. Climbing into his car, he drove away, needing to put distance between himself and the woman infesting his house.
???
That evening, Roman sat in the living room of his penthouse, nursing a bottle of vodka.
He had instructed Alek to pack some of his clothes and bring them over as he had no intention of returning to the house he shared with her anytime soon.
He’d spent most of the afternoon in the same spot he was currently occupying, drinking and ignoring his Vory duties.
“Are you going to tell Vitaly about it?” Alek asked, his gaze not straying from the TV playing a football game. It seemed that he felt the need to babysit his older brother, at the risk of his annoyance.
“To what purpose? You said it yourself, we can't risk the war.” Especially now that Roman knew about their father's plans involving both the Italians and the Armenians.
“You believe what she said? That she didn't ask him to come?”
Roman didn't answer that; didn't even want to think about it. Alek sipped his beer, looking thoughtful.
“Who's watching her?”
“Vladimir.” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat to get rid of the feeling of having sandpaper stuck between his larynges. Since she couldn't be trusted, she was to be watched at all times by one of his men.
“Look, brat , I know it sucks. I won't claim to know anything about your relationship and how you feel. But maybe, just maybe, she's telling the truth.”
“She's just like the rest of her family—a bunch of opportunistic bastards.”
Alek sighed. “But what if she's not? You two seemed to be getting along well. She made you happy, right?”
Roman turned his face away from his brother, convinced he was an open book.
He despised feeling so vulnerable. Couldn't even remember a time when he'd been so affected by a woman.
“It doesn't matter. I should have known better.
I've been a fool to let my guard down.” He took another swig straight from the bottle. “She's just a fucking woman.”
Silence fell upon the room, until Alek said quietly, “I've never seen you getting plastered because of one before.”
Roman's eyes burned with fury as they settled on him. “Why the fuck are you here, Alek?”
“Where else would I be?”
Trying not to let his anger consume him, he stood and headed for the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking the vodka with him. The next drink burned his throat, leaving behind bitterness and a fire that engulfed his entire being.
The city was beautiful at night from sixty floors up. His gaze found his own face in the window, and he grimaced at the image reflected back at him. His eyes were bloodshot from the alcohol and his dark hair betrayed the fact that it had suffered the abuse of his hands for hours.
Averting his eyes toward a glowing point in the distance, he thought of his wife.
He wondered if she was as innocent as she claimed to be or just a better liar than he’d realized.
He hadn’t been able to find anything on her phone to suggest she’d kept in touch with her ex, but that didn’t really mean anything.
Uncertainty flooded his chest, along with a feeling of unease. What if she was really telling the truth? A part of him wanted it to be true. The other part was still fighting with the image of that asshole's hands on her body .
Guilty or not, she was not to see Luca Morano ever again. Roman would make sure of it, no matter what it took.