Chapter 15
ROMAN
“How is she?”
I look up from watching my sister’s sleeping form as Laz swivels in the front seat to glance back at me.
“Fine,” I shrug. “I mean, she’ll feel like fucking shit tomorrow, but she’s fine.”
I exhale slowly, still shook from seeing my sister unconscious and Milena in hysterics about her being roofied.
Evie wasn’t drugged. She’s just a complete fucking lightweight who gets drunk off half a drink. God only knows how much booze she snuck to get like this.
I say snuck because her friends, especially Milena, always make a point of keeping an eye on her when they’re out for that very reason. I’m thankful for it, considering that I worry like hell sometimes about Evie’s na?veté paired with her complete inability to drink.
I turn to look at her, my brow furrowing.
Goddammit, Evie.
I love my sister to death, but c’mon. She knows she can barely handle half a beer.
I scowl, twisting my head to stare at the neon of the city flickering past the tinted windows of Bane’s black Rolls-Royce Spectre.
I listen to the rhythmic sound of Evie sleeping next to me. Slowly, my worry for her lessens, and I start to worry about someone else.
…About me.
What the fuck is happening to me?
My “temporary moments of weakness” are becoming my reality.
A dark, addictive need, like a drug.
And the more I keep telling myself that it’s just being drunk and horny, or a purely biological reaction to an external stimulus, or whatever other excuse I’m floating in any given moment when it comes to Val, the more they start to sound exactly like what they are:
Bullshit.
Tonight, there’s not even any lie to fall back on. I wasn’t drunk, not really.
Tonight, I fucking wanted him.
I was jealous, too—jealous of the attention that fucking guy on his lap was getting. After being ignored for days, seeing that just made me…
Angry.
Hurt. Pissed off. Possessive.
Fucking jealous of a man I didn’t even know, just because he was sitting in the lap of a man I’ve tried every which way to tell myself I don’t give a shit about.
That I’m not attracted to him.
That he’s just a blip. A glitch in my matrix.
Pretty sure now the glitch is me.
Because the more I try to tell myself that I’m not attracted to men, the more I keep thinking about one certain man.
…And how futile it is to pretend I’m not attracted to him.
Because I am. A lot.
I mean, he’s fucking beautiful. Those goddamn eyes. The longish, shaggy dark hair that gives him a rock-star vibe. The fashion-model jawline and cheekbones. His grooved, tattooed body, hewn from rock thanks to a lifetime of dance.
I swallow uncomfortably as flashbacks from tonight hit like small fireworks going off in front of my face.
The bathroom. Letting him—I did let him—pull me into that stall. His mouth on mine. His hands on my body, his touch igniting fire within me and turning me on in ways I never have been before.
His lips against my skin. His filthy words in my ear.
…My lips around his cock.
I blink rapidly as it all comes rushing back at once.
Fucking hell, I sucked a cock tonight.
Without hesitation. I fucking wanted it. And while I was doing it, feeling his thick erection gliding past my stretched lips and over my tongue, spilling precum down my throat, I wanted more.
Feeling him seize control and take away my power gave me, ironically, a power and a control I’ve never felt before.
“Jesus, the two of you.”
Laz’s voice rips me from my memories of everything that just happened. I freeze when I realize I’m rock fucking hard, too.
Bane turns to glance at our friend. “What?”
“You’re both sulking and moping. I’d like to know why.”
Bane’s brow furrows. “Are you high?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder to where my sister is sleeping off her bender.
Laz rolls his eyes. “Okay, Evie drank too much. But she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep, some Advil, and a big greasy breakfast. You two look like you just left a funeral.”
I shake my head. “I do not.”
“You do.” Laz grins. “I mean…” He prods Bane in the arm, who promptly shakes him off. “I know this one is all hung up about some girl.”
Bane’s chiseled jaw tightens, his tattooed knuckles tensing as he grips the steering wheel tightly. His middle finger curls and uncurls, stroking the side of the finger next to it.
Bane’s good about hiding his emotions, always has been. I mean, shit, we’ve known each other since we were kids, and even though I'm aware there’s this big thing that happened to him when he was young, I don’t even know what it was.
He’s…not exactly the open, sharing type.
All I know is, there’s darkness in my friend that he keeps locked down tight, almost without a single “tell”.
But the finger-rub?
That’s it. That’s the tell.
“I never said that,” Bane grunts in reply to Laz’s prodding.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not right, though.”
Bane's jaw clenches tighter. One finger strokes the other.
“Drop it, Laz,” I growl.
Laz sighs, dramatically letting his head fall back against the seat. “Fine. Be an emo dickhead,” he says, turning to grin at Bane.
…Who doesn’t take the bait.
“What about you, then?” Laz, ever-hungry for drama or excitement, swivels to look at me in the back seat next to my sleeping sister.
“Huh?”
“You’re a mopey little bitch right now as well. Girl shit too?”
I shrug, turning to look out the window.
The high that I felt earlier with Val is fading. Now, there’s just anxiety.
About what happened.
And when it’ll happen again…
“Roman.”
I flinch and drag my eyes back up to Laz. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Great. Both of you idiots put pussy on a pedestal and now look at you. Emo fucks.”
Bane catches my glance in the rearview mirror and silently rolls his eyes.
“See,” Laz goes on, continuing to pontificate. “This is why I stay single.”
“Oh, is that the reason?” Bane says with a snarky smile. “Here I thought it was that your personality repels women.”
“Hey, fuck you too, dickhead,” Laz snickers, flipping Bane off. “No, gentlemen, I have it down to a science. One night only, no repeats, finito. No muss, no fuss.”
“Ah, yes,” Bane smirks, rolling his eyes again. “Meaningless, temporary physical release while using a person as a sex toy. What everyone wants,” he says dryly.
“News flash,” Laz throws back. “That is literally what every man in their prime like us wants. I mean, sometimes you’re just looking for a willing hole—right, Rome?”
I’m back to staring out the window at the city flickering past us. Is that what it was back there with Val? Meaningless release? Was I just…
My face heats.
A willing hole?
Darkness slithers and coils through me, quickening my pulse and making my cock twitch.
Why are you so turned on by that thought?
Because I am. In some supremely fucked-up way, the idea of being Val’s willing mouth, his toy, his submissive plaything is…hot.
Really, really hot, in the same way that him putting me on my knees and taking control of me as he fucked my mouth with my head against the wall was.
It’s same aching, needy sensation I get when he pins my arms down or binds them with my own belt.
I don’t know what the fuck that's about, or why having the control that I cling to so fiercely suddenly plucked from me is such a fucking rush.
“Roman.”
“What?” I snap, turning back to Laz, who immediately rolls his eyes.
“Christ, the two of you.” He shakes his head, turning to look ahead at the road. “I’m telling you, you both need to get on my level.”
“Your level of meaningless, empty sex with strangers,” Bane says dryly.
“See? You’re learning already,” Laz grins.
“And yet, here you are…”
Laz scowls, jerking a thumb at Evie. “Because I’m a chivalrous fucker, dick.”
“Sure,” Bane snickers.
Laz shrugs and leans back in his seat, his fingers laced behind his head. “For the record, I’ve got some irons in the fire.”
Bane chuckles. ”You have a vivid imagination—”
“No, since you’re so interested,” Laz mutters, “I’ve been eying that punk chick who dances with Evelina. The blonde with the pink streaks? Dove Marchetti?”
Without warning, the car screeches violently to a stop at a red light. I brace Evelina and myself in time, but Laz goes flying forward, barely catching himself before he slams his face into the dashboard.
“Dude!” he roars, whirling on Bane. “The fuck, man?! Watch the fucking face!”
I'm about to tell Bane to pay the fuck attention. But then I see the dark, livid look on his face and the viciousness snarling behind his eyes, and I reconsider.
“Yo, Antonov,” I growl quietly, trying to catch his attention in the rearview mirror. “You good?”
“Light changed faster than I thought,” he growls, looking dead ahead.
“Well, watch the fucking road. Jesus,” Laz sighs, rolling his neck. “Anyway, Dove. Great ass. And that mouth?” He groans. “Fucking made for sucking—”
The car lurches forward, slamming Laz back into his seat.
“Motherfucker! The road!”
Bane and Laz are still bickering about God-knows-what as they drive away after dropping a now-sleeping Evie and me off at our father’s house. The guards out front are visibly concerned about my sister’s condition, but I tell them she’s just tired as I lift her into my arms and carry her inside.
“What the hell happened?” Stepan frowns, standing quickly from his seat on the couch. He closes his laptop and rushes over to where I’m paused mid-step on my way past the library—Stepan’s “office space” of choice here at the house.
“She’s fine,” I grunt. “Just tired.”
Stepan’s brow furrows. “I can smell the alcohol and vomit from here. What the fuck happened?”
“Step, it’s seriously nothing. She just drank too much.” My eyes shift. “My father—”
“—doesn’t need to know, got it,” Stepan says with a small smile.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“He’s not here, anyway. He’s with Mr. Antonov at the safe house.”
I nod my chin at the stairs. “I’m going to put her to bed.”
Stepan smiles. “You’re a good brother, Roman.”
Upstairs, I get a semi-conscious Evie to at least gargle some mouthwash. I’m not changing my own sister into a nightgown or pj's, though, so I start to tuck her into bed in her club dress before she groggily opens her eyes.
“Rome…?”
“I’m here,” I smile down at her. “You’re home safe. Just close your eyes.”
“I…” she frowns, her eyes falling shut. “I puked on you.”
“It’s okay. You drank too much.”
“You drink too much…” she mumbles, her head lolling to the side on her pillow before her brow knits. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
You’re right.
She cracks her eyes open and lifts the blanket to look down at herself. “I should change…”
“Hang on.”
I grab a t-shirt and sweats from her dresser and hand them to her before walking to the door and ducking outside.
“Rome?”
Evie’s back in bed when I step back into the room, her t-shirt on backward and inside out. Close enough. I walk over and pull the blankets back up over her, then go to leave.
“Wait…”
My sister’s hand finds mine, making me turn to look at her.
“Yeah?”
Evie shifts in bed, her eyes opening a bit. “Are you happy, Rome?”
I shrug. “Sure?”
“No, like…really happy.”
Her eyes drift shut again, and I smile as I push her hair back from her face.
“I think so, Eves,” I say quietly.
Who knows if I’m even capable of that.
“I hope you are,” she mumbles. “Happy, I mean.” She sighs heavily, groaning. “I threw up…”
“It happens,” I smile, tucking the blankets tighter around her. “It’s okay—”
“Everyone thinks I’m so good,” she murmurs as her head sinks into the pillow.
“Eves, trust me,” I sigh, “no one’s going to think any less of you just because you had a bit too much—”
“What if they’re wrong?”
The words barely escape her lips as sleep starts to drag her under.
“I have secrets, Rome,” she mumbles. “What if I’m not good…?”
Her words devolve to light, rhythmic breathing as she drifts off.
I smile wryly and squeeze her shoulder through the duvet.
“Night, Evie.”
Downstairs, I find the library empty, which usually means Stepan has remembered that he has his own place and doesn’t need to spend twenty-four hours a day here glued to his phone or laptop.
I pour myself some vodka and take a heavy sip.
What if I’m not good.
Evie, obviously, is just drunk. I already know her “secret” is that she went on that fucking Club Venom app. I still have no idea how to bring that up with her. Honestly, at this point, I probably won't.
Nothing came of it. Stepan is savvy enough with this house’s tech to be able to show me internet traffic for the last few weeks. No one has been on the Club Venom app since the night I saw that conversation on Evie’s phone. So…that’s done.
What if I’m not good.
Evie doesn’t have a fucking thing to worry about there. She is good; alarmingly, slightly worryingly so.
But me?
I squeeze my eyes shut as I take another sip, letting the vodka burn my throat.
“Good” isn’t lying to yourself and the people who love you. “Good” isn’t sneaking around, drowning your own self-hatred with alcohol, and playing risky sex games with a fucking man.
“Good” isn’t looking yourself in the mirror and hating every fucking facet of what you see as you try and convince yourself that you don’t find Val Bancroft extremely attractive. Which means—
“Roman!!”
I startle, choking on the vodka in my mouth as a haggard-looking Stepan rushes into the room, phone in one hand, drawn gun in the other.
“It’s your father,” he says tightly.
My pulse stills.
“He’s going to be okay. Nikolai Antonov, too. But there was an explosion at the safe house. A firebomb. Come—I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
I bolt after him, taking the gun he hands me and checking the mag before I stick it into the back of my pants. When we rush into the main hall and I see the small fucking army of heavily armed Nikitin men there, I grab his shoulder.
“The fuck is all this?”
Stepan’s face is gray as he turns back to me. “For your sister’s safety.” His jaw tenses. “We’re fairly sure the attack was the work of the Obsidian Syndicate.”