Chapter 24
VAL
I can’t say no to ultimatums, and I can’t back down. Someone probably should have warned Roman about that.
I think it’s a byproduct of growing up in foster homes. If some kid laughed because you couldn’t shoot a three-pointer at the park? You went home and fucking practiced that shit until your fingers bled. Someone said that house on the corner was haunted? You damn well went inside.
Because in the foster system, that attitude is what separated the strong from the weak. It’s what got you passed over by the predators, because they’re looking for something fragile and pathetic, and if you make sure you’re not either of those, you live to see another day, untouched.
The problem is, no one has warned Roman about my thing with ultimatums.
So today is about to be very fun.
Today, I have a surprise for him. For us, really.
He might not like what I’m about to do. Actually, I’m pretty sure in the short term, he’s going to want to kill me. But long term?
He’ll be thanking me. On his knees. Like he’s going to be, in a minute.
I fucking love that glint he gets in his eye when he’s about to wrap his mouth around my dick. There’s clearly this battle of wills or morals going on inside him, even though we both know the horny side is going to win out.
Again, this is one of the things I get so hard over when it comes to him: the fact that he’s usually this ultra-growly bratva tough guy with tattooed knuckles, a savage glint in his eyes, and an love of blood and violence.
But when he’s with me, he drops to his knees and moans like an eager little slut around my cock.
It’s knowing I can tame that beast in him that makes me so fucking into him.
Roman reaches down and peels off his t-shirt, tossing it away as my eyes hungrily roam his torso. Fucking hell, this is also what I love about him: the ultra-masculine look, the ink, the muscles, the whole “man’s man” vibe he gives off.
I’ve never been a huge fan of super femme dudes, which I realize makes little sense considering that I also fuck women.
Maybe I just view genders differently. With girls, yeah, I want soft, petite, smooth, feminine vibes.
But guys? I want them to be men. Not a total “bear” or anything—super hairy with a big belly and thick arms, like all the twinks with daddy issues gravitate to. That’s not Roman at all, anyway.
He’s got this “hot guy mowing the lawn next door” kind of look. Like an all-American college quarterback who bought a motorcycle and got a bunch of tattoos after graduating.
Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m saying. It doesn’t matter. The second Roman’s knees hit the floor in front of me and he reaches for my belt to pull it open, my mind always goes blank.
I groan as I sink back into the couch, watching Roman eagerly yank my jeans down my hips. My cock springs free from my boxers, and I hiss in pleasure as Roman fists it, slowly pumping up and down before lowering his mouth.
Fuck…
For a moment, I’m so lost in the pleasure of his lips wrapping around my dick and his tongue teasing the slit at the tip that forget to glance at my watch. But when I do, groaning as Roman sucks me deeper, a grin pulls at my mouth.
If she’s punctual, things are about to get—
“Hiii! Just me!”
Fun.
“Oh my God, I love this place—oh!”
Two things happen simultaneously. The first is that Dasha Lukashova almost stumbles backward as she steps into my loft through the unlocked door—exactly as I told her to—and sees her fiancé on his knees with my cock down his throat.
The second is that Roman almost has a fucking heart attack, scrambling to his feet and then literally falling onto the couch next to me, his eyes wide with horror as his face drains of all color.
“I—”
“This—”
“Not—”
Random words just…dribble from his mouth as he stares in abject terror at Dasha—who, to her credit, isn’t losing her shit or screaming or anything.
Honestly? I knew she wouldn’t, which is why I played it this way. Yes, I could have easily sat her down and explained everything. But the shock value here is important. It lets her know when I get to the next part that I’m crazy enough not to ignore.
“Dasha—” Roman blurts. “I—this isn’t—”
“No, it’s pretty much exactly what she thinks, isn’t it?” I’ve got a smug, shit-eating grin on my face as I tuck my dick back into my pants and stand. “Dasha, babe, please have a seat.”
I smile as I gesture to the chair across from me, facing the couch.
“You son of a bitch—”
“Let’s drop the bullshit, all of us, okay?” I turn to smile at her. “Dasha, the reason you just walked in on what you did—”
“You told me to come over right now!” she shrieks. “You said your door would be unlocked—”
“Which it was.”
“—and we were going to have coffee somewhere!” she says shrilly.
Hmm, yes. That is what I told her.
“Have a seat, gorgeous,” I smile at her. “Please.”
She huffs and angrily sits in the chair, still shooting daggers at Roman.
“First of all,” I say pleasantly, “stop glaring at him like that.”
Roman’s face swivels to mine, pale as a sheet, his wide eyes screaming “are you fucking insane”.
Maybe. Possibly.
Probably.
Dasha shoots me a cold look. “Do you know what would happen if I told anyone about what I just walked in—”
“Oh, I think we all know what would happen,” I growl. “Which is why I know you won’t.”
She stares at me. “His father would fucking—”
“True,” I shrug. “But it’s not him you're really worried about, is it?”
Her mouth purses.
Yeah, she’s already figured it out. I don’t know the Bratva world that well, but I know how hyper-hetero it is. Which means, yeah, bad for Roman if Dasha were to go tattling to Pavel. But it would be bad for her, too.
A previous engagement to a gay man? In that world? Yeah, she can go ahead and consider her future marriage options limited, to say the least.
“Why the fuck would you tell me to come over here to see this?” Dasha yells. Her eyes drag to Roman, who’s looking at the floor in utter shock and horror, totally frozen.
It's okay. He’ll be okay, once I navigate us through this.
“Because,” I smile at Dasha. “I have a favor to ask you.”
She scoffs. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Which is?”
My lips curl. “Call off the wedding. End your engagement to Roman.”
She barks a laugh. “Do you have any idea how my world—how our world—works?!” She points at a catatonic Roman. “I can’t just—”
“I know you’re fucking your head of security.”
It’s like cutting the marionette strings holding her up. Dasha just…deflates, her face turning white as she stares at me in…well…the same way Roman is staring at the floor, like it might swallow him up if he was lucky.
I hold my hands up. “That isn’t a threat. Promise.”
“What…” She swallows heavily, looking horrified. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because,” I smile, “I want to offer you a deal. You don’t want to marry Roman, and—shocker—he doesn’t want to marry you. Everyone understands that none of this is personal, yes?”
She nods.
“Good. Let's talk deal.”
Dasha drops her gaze to the floor again. But then, I see a look wash over her face, transforming it from stunned shock and horror to…
I grin.
Calculating.
Excellent.
I did my homework on Dasha. She’s smart as fuck. Oxford undergrad, then Wharton for business school. Hell, she orchestrated and finalized half the deals her father made last year.
“You want me to be the one to end this because he can’t,” she says evenly. “Because his father wants this even more than mine.”
I tap my nose. “Bingo.”
Dasha smiles a Cheshire Cat smile.
“Then let’s talk about my exit package.”
Attagirl.
Roman finally stirs from his stunned silence. He blinks, fumbling for his shirt and yanking it on. His brow furrows as he looks across at Dasha.
“Exit package?”
“Roman,” she shrugs. “Come on. We both know how our world works. You think I can just end an engagement my father set up for me, and everything goes on as normal? If I could, don't you think I would have done that months ago, when I was first told about this whole thing?”
Roman’s face darkens.
“If you want me to end this—and I think you do—it’s going to mean more than me simply having a conversation with my father.” She inhales slowly. “It’s going to mean me leaving my family.”
She glances at me, and I nod. I already knew this.
“Which I think we can agree probably means my father won’t be giving me free use of his credit cards anymore.”
Roman scowls. “Are you asking for a fucking bribe?”
She scoffs. “Wouldn’t you?” Dasha sighs. “Roman, he’s right. I don’t want this marriage, because my heart already belongs to someone else. It appears yours does, too.”
I grin and put a hand on Roman’s knee. He shakes it off, not looking at me.
“For this exit package,” I clear my throat. “How does one million sound?”
I don’t do handouts. But in certain circumstances, I’m not above swallowing my own pride and asking my obscenely wealthy brother for an amount he’s probably got lying around between the couch cushions.
Dasha’s brows arch, and she starts to laugh.
“A million? For me to walk away from my entire—”
“Let’s talk real numbers.”
Roman’s voice is deep and booming as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He steeples his fingers, his face composed, his sharp jaw relaxed but firm.
Fuck me, he looks every inch the shrewd, calculating Bratva kingpin he was born to be right now.
And fuck me sideways, is that hot.
“Let’s talk about your exit package, Dasha,” he growls. “Considering both the inconvenience, and me wasting your time.”
She smiles softly and reaches for Roman, taking one of his hands in hers. “You didn’t waste my time,” she says quietly. “I’m just glad to know the reason you weren’t checking me out,” she laughs.
Roman frowns but says nothing.
“Well…” She clears her throat, her hands releasing his. “I’ve seen the ring you picked out—though I’m guessing you didn’t?” She smiles.
“Stepan,” Roman mutters. “Stepan chose it.”
“It’s beautiful. He’s got great taste.”
“I’ll pass that along,” Roman growls.
“It also looked quite expensive?”
Roman smirks. “Two point five, I think.”
Fucking hell. I turn to stare at him.
Dasha whistles. “Wow, Roman, I don’t know what to say.”
He smiles wryly. “I think you do. It's a number.”
I bite back my own grin. Shit, he’s really fucking good at this whole conducting business thing. I guess in my lust for this guy, I’ve never realized how much the Bratva king he really is. But now that I have?
I mean, I didn’t think it was possible to be any more attracted this motherfucker. But here we are.
“Well, considering what the ring was going to be worth, and my standard of living, which I’ve become quite accustomed to, and the fact that when we leave the way we’ll have to, work will be difficult to come by—”
“We?” Roman scowls.
“Maks,” I murmur. “Her head of security.”
Dasha blushes and looks down. Roman just nods, like he’s running the numbers in his head.
“Three million.”
Dasha snorts. “Please, Roman. Don't make me laugh. Twelve.”
Roman smiles. “Am I buying a fleet of Lamborghinis as part of this exit package? Three and a half.”
“Roman, this is my nuclear option. I’m not telling my father I’m moving out. I’m running away from my family without telling them. Eleven five.”
Roman cocks his head. “I was under the impression that you and your father got along like oil and water. We both know if you blow this up—”
“Blow. Very interesting choice of words, given the circumstances, Roman,” Dasha says with a smile.
I chuckle.
Roman does not.
“Four.”
Dasha starts to open her mouth, but Roman suddenly holds up a hand.
“Let’s just be done with this.” He looks right at her. “Eight. We both know that’s more than fair. Eight mil, and I’m sure you’ll be able to access more cash before you take off with Maks. That buys you a whole new life, Dasha.”
She smiles wryly. Then she stands. So does Roman. She sticks her hand out, and he takes it.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” she says quietly. Then she slips her hand from his and reaches up to cup his face.
Watch it, bitch.
I grit my teeth as I watch her fucking hug him.
“I—thank you,” she whispers to him. “I’m sorry—”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says gently, smiling. “When will you…”
“Soon.” She swallows. “We’ll have to make some plans—”
“Text me your account number, and the money will be there by tonight.”
She nods, grinning as she takes his hand again. “For the record?” She lifts a shoulder. “You’re going to make a fantastic pakhan.”
“Good luck, Dasha.”
“You too, Roman.” She turns to shoot me a stern look, but then it fades. “Be good to him,” she says to me with a wink.
Roman walks her to the door, and I grit my teeth and somehow manage not to commit murder when I have to endure another fucking hug of theirs.
Then she’s gone.
Roman draws in a slow breath, his hands planted on the door to my place, his back to me, his shoulders tense and tight. I grin as I walk over, then start to slide my arms around his waist.
“Well, I guess to the victor go the spoils—”
“FUCK. YOU.”
I jolt, shaken by the sheer violence and fury humming off his body as he whirls on me. His teeth are bared and his eyes black as they stab into me.
“You,” he seethes.
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“Mother. Fucker,” he snarls.
I stare at him. “Um, I just did you a huge fucking favor. You didn’t want to marry her, she didn’t want to marry you. I got that fucking ball rolling. I settled it!”
“I fucking settled it!” he seethes. “And you didn’t get a goddamn ball rolling! You threw a fucking hand grenade into my entire life!!”
My brow furrows. “Okay, chill—”
“Are you fucking serious?!”
“Roman, relax. This is a fucking win,” I snap. “Yes, she wanted way more than I thought. That’s on me. I’ll talk to my brother—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the money!” he roars, jamming a finger into my chest. “You think I give a fuck about eight fucking mil?”
“I think most people would give a huge fuck about eight—!”
“THIS IS MY LIFE, MOTHERFUCKER!!” he screams in my face, sending a cold ripple down my spine.
“EXACTLY!” I roar back. “That's what I’ve been trying to get through your thick head! It’s your life! Don’t marry girls you don’t want to! Stop pretending you’re something that we both fucking know you’re not! Life is too short for that!”
He shoves me away, his eyes bleeding black smoke, his face livid.
“This is done.”
It feels like glass cutting into my chest.
“Roman—”
“We’re fucking done, motherfucker,” he growls, yanking the door open behind him. “This bullshit is over.”
The door slams shut behind him, leaving me with a gaping void in my chest and a ringing in my ears that won’t go away.