4. Roman
ROMAN
I sat behind my desk, jaw clenched, every muscle in my body wound tight as a fucking wire.
The taste of Cassie still lingered on my lips, her scent still clinging to my clothes.
My cock was still hard, pressed uncomfortably against my zipper, demanding more of what we’d just shared on this very desk.
Fuck.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear my head.
What the hell had I just done? I’d taken my assistant—my employee—and claimed her like some kind of goddamn animal.
And the worst part? I wanted to do it again.
I wanted to march out there right now, drag her back in here, and fuck her all over again.
The rational part of my brain knew this was a mistake. A massive, career-ending, lawsuit-waiting-to-happen mistake. But the primal part—the part that had been circling her like a predator for months—was satisfied in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
She was mine now. I’d marked her, claimed her, and made her understand exactly who was in control. The way she’d moaned my name, the way her body had responded to mine—there was no going back from that.
I stood and walked to the bar cart in the corner of my office, pouring myself three fingers of Jameson.
The whiskey burned going down, but it did nothing to cool the fire still raging in my veins.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawled out below me—my city, my territory, my fucking kingdom.
But kingdoms required loyalty. And loyalty was something I was running dangerously short of these days.
My father’s voice echoed in my memory, as clear as if he were standing in the room with me. "Loyalty is leverage, son. Marriage is control. Never forget that the right woman can secure an empire, but the wrong one can destroy it."
He’d been talking about my mother when he said that.
The woman who’d tried to have him killed when I was twelve.
The woman who’d sold out our family to a rival faction for the promise of a new life and a bank account in the Caymans.
She’d failed, obviously. My father hadn’t built his empire by being careless, but the betrayal had shaped everything that came after.
It had shaped me.
Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not when wolves were circling, waiting for any sign of weakness.
And lately, there had been too many signs.
Shipments going missing. Deals falling through at the last minute.
Information leaking to law enforcement and rival families.
Someone inside my organization was feeding intelligence to my enemies, and I had no fucking idea who.
My phone buzzed on the desk. Declan’s name flashed on the screen.
I answered on the second ring. "What is it?"
"We need to talk." Declan’s voice was tight, controlled. My consigliere wasn’t a man who spooked easily, which meant whatever news he had was bad.
"I’m listening."
"Not over the phone. Can you meet me at the warehouse in an hour?"
I glanced at the security monitor showing Cassie at her desk outside my office. She was smoothing down her skirt, her cheeks still flushed from our encounter. The sight of her sent another bolt of heat straight to my cock.
"Make it two hours," I said.
"Roman—"
"Two hours, Declan. Or it can wait until tomorrow."
There was a pause. "Fine. But Roman? This can’t wait much longer. The family is asking questions."
The line went dead. I set the phone down and took another sip of whiskey, my mind already racing.
The family. The council of old Irish bastards who thought they still had a say in how I ran my operations.
They’d been circling like vultures ever since the sabotage started, questioning my leadership, my methods, my ability to control my territory.
They wanted traditional. They wanted someone who understood the old ways, who respected the bloodlines and the codes that had kept the Irish families in power for generations.
What they didn’t want was someone who was trying to legitimize the business, to move away from the violence and chaos that had defined our world for so long.
But they were stuck with me. I was Patrick Creed’s son, his chosen heir, and until they could prove I was unfit to lead, they had to respect that.
The problem was, if the sabotage continued, if I couldn’t root out the mole in my organization, they wouldn’t need to prove anything. I’d be proving it for them.
I walked back to my desk and activated the security system, cycling through the camera feeds.
Cassie was still at her desk, typing something on her computer.
She looked composed, professional, like nothing had happened between us.
But I could see the slight tremor in her hands, the way she kept glancing toward my office door.
She wanted more. Just like I did.
My phone rang again. This time, it was Declan calling back.
"I thought we agreed on two hours," I said.
"Roman, listen to me. I just got word from Connor. The family is meeting next month, and they’re not happy. They want you to get your affairs in order."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means they think you’re distracted. Unfocused. And they’re saying that if you’re not engaged by the time they meet, they’ll consider naming a new heir."
I felt my blood pressure spike. "They can’t do that. I’m Patrick Creed’s son."
"And Mickey was his brother. Don’t forget that bloodlines run in multiple directions, Roman. You need to show them you’re stable. Settled. That you have something worth protecting besides your own interests."
Mickey. My father’s brother, the man who’d tried to seize control of the family operations after my father’s death.
The man I’d been forced to eliminate when he’d made his play for power.
The family had accepted that decision—barely—but they hadn’t forgotten that I was capable of killing my own blood when it served my interests.
"I don’t need a wife to prove my loyalty," I said.
"Maybe not. But you need something to prove you’re thinking beyond yourself. The old guard doesn’t trust unmarried men in positions of power. They think we’re too volatile, too unpredictable."
He was right, and I hated him for it. The Irish families were steeped in tradition, in codes that went back centuries. Marriage meant stability. It meant respectability. It meant you had something to lose, which made you less likely to take unnecessary risks.
I glanced at the monitor again. Cassie had stood up from her desk and was walking toward the break room, her hips swaying in a way that made my mouth water. She was beautiful, intelligent, and she’d proven today that she could handle my world—at least the parts of it I’d shown her.
More importantly, she was here. Available. And after what had just happened between us, she was already mine in all the ways that mattered.
"Tell them I have someone," I said.
There was a pause. "Roman?—"
"I said, tell them I have someone. We’re announcing soon."
"Who? Because if you’re thinking about that redhead from the club, or the senator’s daughter, you’ve been?—"
"Not your concern, Declan. Just make sure the family knows I’m handling it."
Another pause. "Roman, whoever she is, she needs to understand what she’s getting into. This isn’t just about wearing a ring and showing up to events. She’ll be part of the family. Part of the business. There’s no going back from that."
"I’m aware."
"And she needs to be someone they’ll accept. Someone with the right background, the right breeding. These old bastards care about bloodlines, about loyalty that’s bred in, not earned. An outsider?—"
"That's exactly what I need right now," I interrupted. "Someone who doesn’t have divided loyalties. Someone who belongs to me and no one else."
I could hear the disapproval in Declan’s silence.
He was old school, like the rest of them.
He believed in arranged marriages within the Irish community, in unions that strengthened existing alliances rather than creating new ones.
But that traditional thinking was what was holding us back, what was keeping us trapped in cycles of violence and retribution.
I needed someone fresh. Someone clean. Someone who could help me build something new.
"Just make the call, Declan. Tell them I’ll have an announcement soon."
"And if she says no?"
I looked at the monitor again. Cassie was returning to her desk with a cup of coffee, her movements graceful and confident. She caught sight of one of the other assistants and smiled—a real smile, warm and genuine. A smile that could disarm enemies and charm allies.
The kind of smile that could help me legitimize an empire.
"She won’t say no," I said.
"How can you be so sure?"
Because I owned her now. Because I’d seen the way she’d responded to my touch, the way she’d surrendered to me completely. Because I knew what kind of leverage I had over her—financial, professional, and now sexual.
But I didn’t say any of that to Declan. Instead, I said, "Trust me."
I ended the call and set the phone aside, my mind already working through the logistics.
Cassie would need to understand what she was agreeing to.
She’d need to be prepared for the scrutiny, the danger, the way her life would change completely.
But she was strong enough to handle it. I’d seen that strength today, the way she’d faced me down even when she was terrified.
She was perfect for this. Perfect for me.
A soft knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to see Cassie standing in the doorway, her cheeks still flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses. She looked uncertain, vulnerable, but there was steel in her spine that told me she wasn’t backing down.
"Come in," I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, the click of the lock echoing in the silence between us. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of what had happened settling around us like a physical presence.
I rose, watching as her eyes tracked my movement. She was trying to read me, trying to figure out what came next. Smart girl. She understood everything had changed, that we’d crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.
"Mr. Creed," she started, but I held up a hand to stop her.
"Roman," I corrected. "After what just happened, I think we can drop the formalities."
She nodded, swallowing hard. "Roman. I think we should talk about?—"
"Yes, we should." I walked around the desk, moving deliberately. She didn’t back away, which impressed me. Lesser people would have run by now. "But first, I need you to understand something."
I stopped in front of her, close enough to touch but not quite making contact. The tension between us was electric, dangerous. Her breathing had quickened, and I could see her pulse fluttering in her throat.
"I don’t make mistakes, Cassie. Everything I do is calculated, purposeful. What happened here wasn’t a moment of weakness or a lapse in judgment. It was inevitable."
Her eyes flared. "Inevitable?"
"From the moment you walked into my office five months ago, this was always going to happen. You belong to me now. In every way that matters."
I saw her jaw tighten, that stubborn streak I’d glimpsed earlier flaring to life. "I don’t belong to anyone."
"Don’t you?" I reached out and traced a finger along her jawline, feeling her shiver at the contact. "Your body certainly seemed to disagree a little while ago."
She jerked back, putting space between us. "That was... that was just physical. It doesn’t mean?—"
"It means everything." I followed her retreat, backing her against the door. "It means you’re mine, Cassie. And I protect what’s mine."
"This is insane," she whispered, but her body was betraying her again. I could see the way her nipples had hardened beneath her blouse, the way her breathing had become shallow and quick.
"Is it? Or is it exactly what you’ve been wanting for months? Be honest with yourself, if not with me. You didn’t send that text to Jeremy by accident. You sent it to me because some part of you knew exactly what would happen."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but I pressed closer, caging her against the door with my body. The scent of her arousal mixed with her perfume was driving me crazy, making it hard to think about anything except getting her naked again.
"I have a proposition for you," I said, my voice low.
"What kind of proposition?"
I smiled, slow and predatory. This was it. This was the moment that would change everything for both of us.
"You’re going to be my wife."