12. Cassie
CASSIE
T wo weeks. Two weeks since I’d woken up retching into Roman’s toilet, two weeks since that terrible moment of clarity when I’d pressed my hand to my stomach and realized my life had just become infinitely more complicated.
It’s probably stress, I told myself for the hundredth time. The adrenaline. A virus. Hell, maybe it really is food poisoning.
But deep down, I knew. The missed periods, the exhaustion, the way my breasts had been tender enough to make me wince when Roman’s hands found them in the dark. My body was trying to tell me something I wasn’t ready to hear.
The problem was…I couldn’t walk into a clinic with men like Roman watching my every move.
His security detail had tripled since the warehouse attack, and I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without someone knowing about it.
A mysterious doctor’s appointment would raise questions I wasn’t prepared to answer.
So, I’d gotten creative. Told Roman I needed to handle some personal banking, something about setting up accounts now that we were getting married.
He’d nodded absently, already distracted by whatever crisis Declan was briefing him on that morning.
It was the perfect cover—boring enough that no one would want details.
My phone buzzed with another text from the clinic confirming my appointment. I quickly deleted it and shoved the phone into my purse, my heart hammering like I’d just committed a felony.
"Cassie." Roman’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts like a blade. I looked up to find him standing in the doorway of our bedroom, fully dressed in a charcoal suit that made his blue eyes look almost electric. "Change of plans. You’re coming with me today."
My stomach dropped. "Where?"
"Strategy meeting. The inner circle." His expression was unreadable, but I caught the tension in his shoulders. "Declan thinks it’s time you understood exactly what we’re dealing with."
Shit. My appointment was in three hours. I couldn’t reschedule again—I’d already moved it twice, and my nerves were fraying at the edges.
"Roman, I actually have?—"
"No." The word was final, brooking no argument. "This isn’t negotiable, Cassie. Not anymore."
Something in his tone made me swallow my protest. I nodded, quickly calculating. If the meeting was quick, maybe I could still make it to the clinic. Maybe.
An hour later, I sat in Roman’s war room—because that’s what it was, really—surrounded by maps, blueprints, and surveillance photos that made my blood run cold.
The basement conference room was all polished concrete and steel, with monitors displaying feeds from cameras I didn’t even want to think about.
Roman’s inner circle filled the leather chairs around the massive table.
Connor, with his silver hair and kind eyes that somehow made the gun under his jacket more terrifying.
Tommy, hunched over a laptop with the pale, caffeine-jittery look of someone who lived in digital shadows.
Joey, whose knuckles were still bruised from whatever "business" he’d handled the night before.
And Declan, of course. Roman’s consigliere sat at his right hand, pale eyes scanning documents with the casual efficiency of a man reading grocery lists instead of assassination orders.
I tried to look composed, professional, like I belonged in a room where they discussed human trafficking routes and money laundering operations with the same tone most people used to plan dinner.
But inside, my stomach was churning—partly from nerves, partly from whatever was growing inside me that I couldn’t face yet.
"The Torrino family is moving product through our territory," Declan was saying, sliding a photograph across the table. "Three shipments in the last week. They think we won’t retaliate while we’re dealing with internal issues."
Roman’s jaw tightened. "They think wrong. We didn’t go to the meeting, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to let them get away with their bullshit."
"Problem is," Connor interjected, "we don’t know how they’re getting intelligence on our security rotations. Someone’s feeding them information."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. These men had been through war together, had bled for each other, and now they were discussing the possibility that one of them was a traitor.
I was so focused on reading the tension that I almost missed Joey’s muttered comment. "The slut shouldn’t be here for this."
The words hit the room like a physical blow. Every man went still, but it was Roman’s reaction that made my pulse spike. He didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even look in Joey’s direction.
His fist connected with Joey’s jaw with a crack that echoed off the concrete walls.
Joey’s chair toppled backward, sending him sprawling on the floor. Blood trickled from his split lip as he stared up at Roman with wide, shocked eyes.
"She stays," Roman said, his voice deadly calm as he adjusted his cufflinks. "Question her presence again, and you’ll be questioning it from a hospital bed. Are we clear?"
Joey nodded, scrambling back into his chair. The other men avoided looking at either of us, but I could feel the shift in the room. Roman had just drawn a line in blood, and everyone knew it.
My heart was racing, but not from fear. Watching Roman defend me with such brutal efficiency shouldn’t have been arousing, but God help me, it was. The way he’d moved, the controlled violence, the absolute authority in his voice—it all combined to send heat flooding through my veins.
"Now," Roman continued as if nothing had happened, "what do we know about tomorrow night?"
Declan cleared his throat, sliding another set of photographs across the table. "Surveillance footage confirms the traitor will be meeting with a rival faction tomorrow night. Pier 19, midnight. If we play this right, we take them both down."
I studied the grainy black-and-white images, noting the timestamps and angles. Someone had spent serious time planning this surveillance operation. But something about the setup bothered me—too clean, too convenient. Like someone wanted to be caught.
The meeting continued for another hour, covering everything from weapons shipments to police bribes to the gruesome details of what happened to people who crossed the Creed family. By the time Roman dismissed everyone, my head was spinning with information I never wanted to know.
But I also understood something I hadn’t before—just how much danger we were all in. The careful balance of power that kept Roman’s empire stable was cracking, and when it finally shattered, people were going to die.
"Cassie." Roman’s voice brought me back to the present. The room had emptied except for us, and he was watching me with those piercing blue eyes. "You handled that well."
"Did I have a choice?"
His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "There’s always a choice. You chose to stay."
The weight of that truth settled between us. I chose to stay, to be part of this world, to stand beside him in rooms where life and death decisions were made with casual brutality. The scared assistant, who’d accidentally sexted her boss, felt like a different person entirely.
"What happens tomorrow night?" I asked.
"Justice," Roman said simply. "One way or another."
That evening, I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at my phone with shaking hands. The missed appointment notification glowed on the screen, a reminder of the choice I’d made. Stay with Roman in his world of violence and secrets, or face the truth about what was growing inside me.
I’d chosen Roman. But tomorrow, I’d have to choose again.
I was about to delete the notification when footsteps echoed in the hallway. I quickly locked my phone and turned, but it was too late.
Roman stood in the doorway, his sharp gaze taking in my flushed cheeks, my trembling hands, and the way I clutched my phone like a lifeline.
"You’re not hiding something from me, Cassie?" he asked, his voice low and unreadable.
My throat tightened. The question hung between us like a loaded gun, and I realized that no matter what I said next, everything was about to change.
"Are you?" I whispered back, because sometimes the best defense was a good offense.
But the way his eyes darkened told me that whatever games we’d been playing, whatever truths we’d been avoiding, time was running out for both of us.