43
N ero Rossetti brought the whiskey to his mouth with a frown, the lines forming around his eyebrows betraying the worry he was trying to hide behind the crystal tumbler.
From beside the large windows, Vito threw Matteo a meaningful look. Roman relaxed in his chair, smoke tendrils rising from the thick Cuban cigar resting between his fingers.
“This plan of yours, Roman. I'm not sure how safe it is,” Nero spoke, sounding as if he was trying to bring reason to the conversation.
“There's no such thing as a safe plan in this situation. We either do this or we don't.”
“Yes, but the Armenians are not to be taken lightly. They are dangerous. Unstable. They hold no value for family and go after women and children to make a point.”
Roman turned his head to look at Vito who'd spoken. “Would you rather live in fear that at any moment they could hunt you down like a dog and kill you? We already have confirmation they are trying to eliminate both organizations.”
The man's face turned red. “But who's to say another leader won't spring up once Kasparov is dead?”
“They’ll be far too decimated to pose a threat once we’re done with them. We have to act, and fast.”
“I agree with Roman,” Matteo said. “Kasparov needs to go.”
Nero ignored his son, keeping his unrelenting gaze on Roman. “If this plan of yours doesn't work...”
“It will,” Roman said and hated that he had to convince the Don he could handle the situation.
“I understand your hesitation, but what other option do we have?
I've known Davit since I was old enough to be allowed around him. He put targets on our backs and there is nothing in this world that will change his mind.”
“He is just one man,” Vito muttered.
“One man with hundreds of loyal soldiers and a lot of connections. You talk as if he and his Clan are a separate thing. You think my father kept him close for so many years because he considered him a friend? He's a psychopath, and his men follow his orders blindly.”
“Hmm,” Nero murmured, and Roman couldn’t figure out if he was agreeing with him. He took another sip of whiskey, looking pensive. “Howisyour father?”
“Still in a coma,” Roman said flatly.
“I hear there are plans for you to be invested asPakhansoon. So, there is no chance for Vitaly to fully recover.”
Roman leaned forward to put out his cigar in the ebony ashtray on the desk, suddenly having lost his appetite for it. “No. It will be me leading the Bratva from now on. I was under the impression you'd be happy about it.”
“I am pleased it’s you, of course. You’re married to my daughter.”
Roman didn't buy it. For all of his previous enthusiasm at the prospect of Roman taking over, Nero sure looked like he would have preferred Vitaly at the helm, if given a choice. It seemed that Roman's style of leadership and his decision-making weren't to the Don's liking, after all.
Tough luck.
Nero drained his whiskey then bit on his unfinished cigar that he picked up from the ashtray. The next question hung in the air, along with the smoke drifting past his lips. “How many men do you need?”
“Ten men and Matteo.”
“Why Matteo?”
“I would like to believe you won't betray me, but forgive me if I have my reservations.”
Something vicious flashed behind Nero’s dark gaze. The Don cleared his throat and glanced away in a poor attempt to hide his anger. “So you want to use my son as leverage.”
“I’d rather call it insurance that you won't back out when it's convenient for you.” Roman was poking the bear with a stick, but he went on. “You didn't mind it as much when it was your daughter instead of Matteo.”
Across the desk, Nero Rossetti's fist clenched around his now empty tumbler. Hitting his sore spot was a small pleasure for Roman, but a pleasure nonetheless.
“You will have your men. It goes without saying that Alessandra should be kept safe on that night. She is welcome here, of course.”
“My wife is my business,” Roman said with an edge to his voice. “But yes, she will be safe with the men I put in charge of her security. There’s no need for her to come here.”
“This is not a pissing contest,” the Don snapped, his jaw clenched at being challenged by a man half his age. “She may be your wife, but she is still my daughter.”
“Yes, and look where that's gotten her.”
It was the last straw. Rossetti leaned forward, eyes blazing.
“Are you complaining, Roman? Is your marriage not up to your standards? Does being married to my daughter inconvenience you? Because we can fix that anytime. These are modern times, and a divorce is not that uncommon, even among men like us.”
Fire licked at Roman's spine, despite knowing it was all a bluff. It was his fault for provoking the man, although he didn't think he could have refrained from doing it even if he’d wanted to. “Out of the fucking question.”
The vehemence in his voice seemed to appease his father-in-law. Nero's lips curled at the corners ever so slightly. “I see.”
Fucking bastard.
Roman kept a blank face, even as he mentally berated himself for being so transparent with his feelings for Alessandra.
By now everyone knew just how important she was to him.
It was dangerous and maybe a little reckless on his part to openly show affection to her the way he had.
People were sure to try and profit from it, including Alessandra's own father.
“We should meet up tomorrow and discuss the details,” Matteo said, effectively ending a conversation that was going nowhere.
Roman took the hint and stood. “I'll send you the address to one of our safe houses. Bring only a couple of trusted men and try to keep a low profile.”
Vito frowned, clearly not pleased with this outcome.
Matteo stepped away from the windows. “I'll see you out.”
As Roman turned to leave, he met Stepan’s eyes across the room. His friend stood near the door, arms crossed over his chest as he silently assisted the meeting. For the most part, everything had gone as expected. The three of them walked out of the office.
Matteo paused by the front door. “Don't worry about my father; he’ll come around. I'll make sure of it.”
“See that you do,” Roman said. “His man doesn't seem to agree to any of it, and we all know what a trusted man can do with the right words.”
“He trusts me more. I'll handle it.”
???
“When are you coming home?”Alessandra’s voice was quiet.
Sitting in the passenger seat of the Stepan’s speeding car, Roman kept his eyes on the passing buildings outside, two of his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on his upper thigh. “I still have some things to do. It could be another couple of hours.”
His wife sighed.”I miss you. Haven't seen you since yesterday morning.”
The night before, he'd arrived home well past midnight and left again before the sun was up. He hadn't felt like disturbing her sleep, opting to crash out in one of the guest bedrooms for a few hours before he had to get up again.
“I know,” he said. It was all he could say to her, despite completely trusting the man at his side. “Is Konstantin there?”
“Yeah. Vladik and Vladimir just left.”
“Make sure you set the alarm before you go upstairs.” He'd had a security system recently installed to give him some peace of mind when he couldn't be at home with her.
“I’ll just wait until you get home.”
“It's late, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be.”
“I want to see you,” she insisted.
Roman fought a smile at her stubbornness. He missed her too. “I'll wake you up when I get home.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She seemed appeased by that. “Love you.”
“I have to go,” he said when the car entered the parking lot at Beluga 1. “Go to bed.”
He ended the call and got out of the car, with Stepan following close behind as he walked toward the back entrance of the club. They were barely inside when a flash of burgundy and yellow stormed down the corridor, heading their way. Laney looked positively murderous.
She noticed them, her expression going even darker. Angry steps picked up their pace in red-soled heels. “You need to get Alek off my back before I end his puppy love in a violent fashion.”
Roman raised a single eyebrow at her tone. “He’s old enough to be held responsible for his actions.”
She huffed out a breath of irritation. “He’s pestering me at work. He’s interfering with my activity that, by the way, you’re paying me for.”
“What did he do this time?”
“What he always does, Roman. He follows me around, asking me to go out with him. I have a lot of stuff to do, and he keeps distracting me.”
“Why don't you give him a chance?” Stepan asked. “You're single, right?”
“He's a kid, that’s why. I don't need the headache.”
“If it makes a difference, he really likes you. It’s not hard to see if you take a single look at his face when you’re around.”
Laney’s lips curved downward in displeasure, but Roman thought he could see something different flash in those blue eyes of hers. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “That doesn’t change the fact he’s too young. Also, I don’t need to be a number on his endless booty call list.”
Roman shook his head, already done with this conversation. “I'll talk to him. Anything else I can do to make your life easier?”
She gave him a dry look. “That's about it. Thanks.”
“Good. Now stop pestering me and go back to work.”
He started to walk away when Laney spoke again. “Alessandra was here today.”
That surprised him. “What for?”
She hesitated, seeing the frown pulling on his brows. “You said it was okay for her to help out at the clubs.”
Ah. That.
He'd almost forgotten about it.
“I did.”
“Well, I got the impression she was hoping to run into you, but she was really helpful. Spent about three hours going through catering offers and decoration options with me.”
Roman nodded even as a pang of guilt hit him. He was neglecting her too much. “I appreciate what you're doing. She needs to get out of the house more.”
“Hey, you're the boss. Plus, she's a sweet girl, and I like having another female here instead of the usual grim faces.”
“And here I was, thinking that she liked having us around,” Stepan joked, looking at Roman.
Laney huffed. “Some estrogen in this suffocating sea of testosterone is a nice change.”
Roman’s lips tipped up. “I guess she doesn't like us that much.”
“You guys are assholes.”
As she left, hips swinging in high heels, the men watched her with amusement in their eyes.
Maybe she was right.
What was any place without a woman in it?
And if that particular woman was Roman's wife, he had to make sure that next time she was around, he'd make some time for her.