Chapter 40 A Very Dangerous Man #2
He shrugged and thought about it. "I don't know. Your dad was always very careful and secretive. He never wore a wedding band, never had photos of his family anywhere, and never mentioned it. He really tried to protect that part of his life. Maybe they knew…had him followed or something but…they didn’t threaten that angle, never hinted at 'applying pressure.’ Roman was all business—he wanted that contract and nothing else.
He warned your father. And he followed through. "
There was nothing else to say.
There was nothing else to think, nothing else to cry over, nothing else to fucking uncover. My father was a criminal. My father was Roman’s colleague, and just like Roman said…my dad knew and played by the rules.
After a few minutes of awkward silence between us, I rose from the chair and said my last words to John, “Thank you, John. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
"Isla?” John stopped me before I could walk away. “I don't know how you came across this email or how you know who Roman is, but...he's a very dangerous man. If I were you, I would do everything in my power to avoid him. He doesn't play around."
His words turned over in my mind, and I felt pride.
Pride that I reined Roman in. Me. He wasn't a dangerous man with me—he was a man deeply and madly in love.
He gave me foot rubs and peppered my body with soft kisses.
He tattooed my name on his finger. He made me laugh with silly jokes, and his smile lit up my whole world.
Moreover, there was no denying it anymore—my father was a dangerous man as well! And my mom loved him with all her heart; I knew that. Their union was unbreakable. It dawned on me that if they didn't die on the same day, one wouldn't be able to survive without the other.
I stepped out of the building into the dark winter evening, sure that I had spiked a fever from the conversation. The wind howled in the darkness, and snow whipped me in the face, but I trudged down the street, immersed in the waterfall of information that fell onto me.
My oversized scarf and pompom hat did nothing to shield me from the biting cold, and I welcomed it—welcomed that physical sting, slightly alleviating the pain in my soul. I was lost, unsure of where to go or what to do next.
There were good things in my life—the semester was over, and my birthday was in a few days—but none of it mattered.
Especially not after the conversation with John, where he confirmed that Roman didn’t lie about anything.
Roman tried to tell me, but…I was too angry, too broken…
too spiteful to even consider his words.
It's not my place to tell you all the wrongs your father was involved in. You need to see it for yourself.
And Roman delivered. He knew that only if I saw the evidence would I begin to understand how deep this all went.
Why did God and the universe hate me?
I meandered down the street, past high-rise buildings and the snowed-in crowd, thinking about the dangerous man. He never put blame on my father for how it all went down. He told me the truth—that my father had known the risks, and boy oh boy, he did know. My father was so fucking informed.
Why would he play with such dangerous people? Why would he interfere in their business? He had a huge piece of the pie here, but evidently, he wanted more.
John's email burned the inside of my pocket. You've used the same methods, you know what can happen! You have a daughter. I pray that they will target you and not her...
Wow. My father put his own daughter at risk.
“Isla?” Someone called my name from out of nowhere, interrupting my mental gymnastics. Sam was smoking outside a bar, his little smile a permanent feature on his face.
Ugh. I didn't want to see anyone, only Roman.
It had been just over three months since our breakup. Three months. Besides him showing up randomly on the street a few times, we hadn't seen or spoken to each other since the library incident, and I knew nothing about his life. I was dying—dying inside.
Was it possible to die from heartbreak?
School was kicking my butt, I hated living in the cold, and Sam paid way more attention to me than I wanted or was comfortable with.
"Hi Sam," I sighed, no happiness in my greeting.
He raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that excited to see me, huh?" he quipped, sizing me up again. Where the fuck even was I? Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized I had made it back to campus.
"Sorry,” I mumbled, already mentally checked out. “Just a lot on my mind. I’ve gotta run though. I'll catch up with you later." I tried not to engage, but obviously, Sam had to.
"Come on, I'll walk you home. It's not that far, right?"
"No, no, it's okay! I need to get groceries anyway."
"I'll join you, come on." Before I could protest again, Sam was already taking quick steps ahead of me. Well, fuck! I relented and followed, and he quickly fell into step beside me, way too pleased with himself. I was hoping he would slip on ice, and I just wouldn't notice and continue on.
He tried to make small talk about something, but I was way too defeated in my life to pay attention. Thankfully, the snow was piling on, and the wind blasted us in the face, making it impossible to uphold a conversation.
Finally, we turned onto my street, relief flooding all of me. I couldn’t wait to go upstairs, lock the doors, and be alone. “Thanks for walking me, Sam. You really didn’t have to. See ya.”
But just as I turned to head inside, Sam caught my hand and pulled me to a stop. "Isla..." he began uncertainly, and all of me plunged into dread. I was really hoping this wasn’t what my intuition was screaming at me. "Show me your new place?"
Wow. Was he fucking serious? Sam was a school friend, an acquaintance even, nothing more. There was no chance in the universe that I was ever going to invite him to my home.
“Oh, um. You know what? I don’t have any furniture yet, and I…I still have to clean it. It's not ready to be seen yet." I forced the words out of me, doing my best to make it light, but he squeezed my hand tighter, taking a step closer. On instinct, I leaned back, doing my utmost to keep distance.
"That's okay,” he said softly. “I don't care about furniture. I just...I just want to spend some time with you." I froze, fear permeating all my limbs.
The street was empty. Snow swirled around us, muffling all sounds. Sam was tall and strong, and he could have tossed me around like a ragdoll. And this was not a situation I ever wanted to be in.
"You've been so hard to catch, Isla,” he continued, his tone darker now. “And I've been dying to get to know you. You're such a closed book. A mysterious girl." His eyes flicked down my face, and he took another step forward.
I stumbled back, petrified at this encounter. I thought I knew Sam, but it turned out he was a complete stranger. Speechless, I stared up at him, realizing that I should say something, or else he would take my silence as a good sign.
"Sam, I…I'm sorry I’m—” I began speaking, making something—anything—up. “I'm just not in a place right now…where I can or want to spend time with anyone." I nodded to myself, thinking that it was a logical and normal response, but instead of releasing me, he held on tight.
"Well, I think you just need someone to help you…unwind." And suddenly, Sam tugged my hand—hard—and pulled me toward the front door. Astounded, I held my ground, doing my best not to move, but my boots slid on the snowy sidewalk.
My legs numb with fear, I protested, pulling back, but Sam didn’t pause, yanking me harder. "Sam! Let go. Please, Sam! Stop! Stop!” I choked out in a panic, but Sam stayed silent, a small smile on his face again, my hand firmly in his claws.
But then—
"Did you hear what she said, Sam?" A deep and familiar voice pierced the cold air, speaking loudly behind me.
I knew exactly who that was.
I whirled around to see Roman a few feet away from me, his eyes burning with rage and his clothes all black. At the sight of him, I lost all strength and fell on my knees from Sam's relentless pulling. Sam paused but didn’t let my hand go.
It was like a scene from a painting. Roman—appearing out of nowhere—dressed in all black like the devil, his hair and coat slowly being covered with snow; me on the ground—powerless, and Sam, clearly not helping, but forcing me.
"Move along, man. I got this." Sam brushed Roman off, tightening his grip on my fingers until they lost all feeling.
Mesmerized and still on my knees, I stared at Roman—the dangerous man—shocked to see him here.
Roman didn’t flinch, his eyes eating Sam alive. With a swift movement of his arm, a gun appeared in his hand, pointing right at Sam.
Sam let me go immediately. With purposeful strides, Roman closed the distance between them in seconds and pulled back momentarily, only to swing and land a colossal punch in Sam’s face.
Sam flew back and hit the ground with a loud thud, sliding a few feet on the snowy sidewalk.
My jaw fell open just as I sat down on the cold ground, unable to look away.
Roman approached again, this time kicking Sam in the stomach.
He folded without protest, but Roman delivered a second blow, harder this time.
He crouched down over Sam, pressing the barrel of his gun to Sam’s forehead. "You touch her again,” Roman growled, “and I’ll cut your fingers off and feed them to you. Or blow your brains out. You decide."
And then, the best moment of my life happened. Roman turned back and rushed to where I was helplessly sitting in the snow. He crouched down and slid his hands onto my waist, helping me up, never breaking eye contact.
"Are you okay, baby?" he asked me so gently, as if we'd been together all this time.
Unable to look away, I stared up at him, tears spilling over. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I missed him so fucking much. After catching a glimpse of him again, I wondered how I was able to survive all this time.
I forgot all about Sam and about everything else that was on my mind. I just saw him, and he was all I wanted.