10. Cassie
CASSIE
I found Roman in his study at dawn, standing behind his desk like a statue carved from granite and fury.
The events of last night hung between us like smoke—the charity gala, the whispered conversations, the revelation that someone close to him was planning his destruction.
And now I knew how deep this rabbit hole went.
"We need to talk," I said, closing the door behind me with more force than necessary.
He didn’t look up from the papers scattered across his desk. "About what?"
"About the fact that you’re planning to go to war. About the fact that someone in your inner circle wants you dead. About the fact that I’m apparently caught in the middle of a mafia power struggle."
That got his attention. Those blue eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment, I saw something flicker across his features—surprise, maybe, that I’d connected the dots so quickly.
"You don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Don’t I?" I stepped closer, anger making me brave. "Marina. Anton’s sister. The meeting is in forty hours. Should I keep going?"
Roman’s jaw clenched. "You were supposed to stay at the table."
"And you were supposed to be honest with me." The words burst out of me before I could stop them. "I don’t want any part of this life, Roman. I can’t do this."
He stood, moving around the desk gracefully. "You think I wanted this? You think I chose to inherit an empire built on blood and fear?"
The raw pain in his voice stopped me cold. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw the man beneath the monster—someone who was just as trapped as I was.
"Then why don’t you walk away?" I asked quietly.
"Because walking away gets people killed." His hands fisted at his sides. "Because the moment I show weakness, every rival family in the city will move in for the kill. Because there are twelve people living in this house who depend on me to keep them alive."
"And me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it. "Where do I fit in your war?"
Roman stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with something darker—stress, maybe, or the weight of carrying an empire on his shoulders.
"You don’t understand how dangerous this has become, Cassie.
I can’t let you leave. Not now. Not when someone knows exactly how to hurt me. "
"By hurting me," I said, the pieces clicking into place.
"By destroying everything I care about." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your life is at stake now. The moment you became mine , you became a target."
The possessive way he said "mine" sent electricity straight down my spine, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted. Not when he was essentially telling me that I was trapped.
"I need to be let go," I insisted, even though the words felt like sandpaper in my throat. "From the job, from this arrangement, from whatever this is between us. I need an out."
Roman stared at me for a long moment, and I watched him make some kind of internal calculation. When he spoke again, his voice was deadly calm.
"Come with me."
"Roman—"
"If you want to understand why you can’t leave, then you need to see what you’re really part of."
He led me through the house, past rooms I’d never seen before, down a staircase hidden behind what looked like a bookshelf in the library. The air grew cooler as we descended, and I realized we were going deep underground.
The door at the bottom of the stairs was steel, reinforced with enough locks to secure a bank vault. Roman punched in a code, pressed his thumb to a scanner, and the door swung open with a soft hiss.
What I saw inside made my blood run cold.
The room was massive, carved into the bedrock beneath the estate. Weapons lined the walls like a deadly museum—handguns, rifles, things I couldn’t even identify. Ammunition was stacked in military-grade containers. Communication equipment hummed softly in one corner.
This wasn’t just an armory. This was a war room.
"Jesus Christ," I breathed.
"Welcome to my world," Roman said, his voice carefully neutral. "This is what you’re asking to walk away from."
I forced myself to move deeper into the room, masking my unease with grit I didn’t know I possessed. If this was his attempt to scare me into submission, he’d picked the wrong woman.
"How many rounds does this hold?" I asked, picking up what looked like a tactical rifle.
Roman’s eyebrows shot up. "Thirty. How did you?—"
"My father was military." I set the weapon down carefully, running my fingers along the barrel. "He taught me to shoot when I was twelve. Said a woman should know how to protect herself."
I moved to another section, studying the layout with analytical precision. "This setup—you’re not just defending against random attacks. You’re preparing for siege warfare."
"Cassie—"
"The communication equipment suggests you have multiple safe houses, all networked together." I turned to face him, noting the way he was watching me with something that looked like surprise. "How many families are you at war with?"
"Three. Maybe four, depending on how tonight goes."
The casual way he said it made my stomach drop. "And you think bringing me deeper into this world is going to make me want to stay?"
Roman moved closer, backing me against the steel wall. The cold metal bit through my thin shirt, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from his body.
"I think you need to understand that there is no safe distance from this," he said, his voice rough with something that sounded like desperation. "The moment you walked into my office five months ago, you became part of it. The moment I claimed you, you became a target."
"Then un claim me," I whispered, but the words came out breathless instead of defiant.
His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, caging me in. "I can’t. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t let you go now even if I wanted to."
The raw honesty in his voice hit me like a physical blow. This wasn’t about control or possession—this was about fear. Fear of losing something that had become precious to him.
"Roman," I started, but he cut me off.
"I need to tell you about Anton."
The name hung between us like a loaded gun. I’d heard references to him before—Roman’s former right hand, the man who’d betrayed him. But I’d never heard the whole story.
"Anton was like a brother to me," Roman said, his voice carefully controlled. "My father brought him into the family when we were teenagers. I trusted him with everything—my business, my plans, my life."
His free hand came up to trace along my jawline, and I had to fight not to lean into the touch.
"We were expanding into legitimate businesses, trying to clean up the family operations. Anton was supposed to handle the transition, work with law enforcement to ensure everything was above board."
"What happened?" "He sold me out to the Torrino family during a peace negotiation. Walked me into an ambush that should have killed me." Roman’s jaw clenched. "Two of my best men died because I trusted the wrong person."
The pain in his voice was raw, unfiltered. I could see why betrayal had turned him into the cautious, skeptical man he was now.
"How did you find out it was him?"
"It took three months of investigation. When I finally cornered him, he begged for his life. Said he’d been coerced, threatened, forced into betrayal." Roman’s eyes met mine. "I put two bullets into him anyway."
The confession should have terrified me. Instead, I found myself understanding the brutal logic of his world. Trust, once broken, became a terminal disease.
"That’s why you don’t trust anyone," I said.
"That’s why I can’t afford to trust anyone." His thumb swept across my lower lip. "But somehow, you’ve wormed your way under my skin."
The admission hung between us like a challenge. I could see the war playing out in his eyes—the need to protect me warring with the knowledge that protection meant possession.
"If you want to leave," he said softly, "now is your chance. Walk away, and I’ll make sure you disappear so completely that no one will ever find you. New identity, new life, enough money to start over anywhere you want."
The offer was genuine. I could see it in his eyes—he would let me go if I really wanted it. But I could also see what it would cost him.
Instead of answering with words, I fisted my hands in his shirt and dragged him down to me.
The kiss was fierce, desperate, like we were both drowning and each other was air. His mouth moved against mine with brutal precision, claiming and demanding in equal measure. My back hit the steel wall harder, and I didn’t care.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Roman stared down at me with something that looked like wonder.
"That’s my answer," I said, my voice rough from his kisses.
"Cassie—"
"I’m not leaving, Roman. I’m not running from this, from you, from whatever war is coming." I pulled him closer, leaving no space between us. "But if I’m staying, then you’re going to teach me how to survive in your world."
Something shifted in his expression—approval, maybe, or satisfaction. "It won’t be easy."
"Nothing worthwhile ever is."
Roman’s mouth curved into that dangerous, almost-smile that made my knees weak. "Then let’s begin."