Chapter 10 – Roman
I was supposed to be paying attention; my mind was supposed to be as present at the meeting as my body. However, I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything other than the petite blonde locked up in my mansion.
My lips twisted into a faint smirk as I recalled the fear in her eyes after I caught her trying to escape. She didn’t know this, but I’d been watching her every move since the second she snuck out of her room in the dead of night.
Prior to that attempted escape, I already knew she wouldn’t sit back and accept her fate. Her stubbornness wouldn’t let her—besides, she had the bastard’s blood coursing through her veins. I expected some resistance, and she didn’t disappoint.
I began to suspect she’d try something silly when I noticed the way she wandered the halls. She was always paying attention to details, as if she were observing something. The way her eyes darted across the building whenever she took a “walk” around the house was suspicious.
It was clear to me that she was taking mental notes of every possible exit. I knew exactly what she was doing: studying the camera angles, learning the patrol patterns of my guards, and waiting for the right time.
I wasn’t sure when she’d decide to shoot her shot, so I watched her more closely. When she began acting more suspicious than usual, I figured she’d made up her mind that it was time.
When I discovered her plan, I thought it wise to make things easy for her. I ordered the guards to stand down for the night and leave every door unlocked—curious to see how far she’d get.
She did exactly as I expected and made a run for it.
If I had waited a few seconds longer before turning on the lights, she would’ve been shot dead on the spot.
Even after finding out that I saved her life, that she was only breathing because I allowed it, she still looked at me with so much hatred.
The defiance in her eyes was remarkable, and her fiery gaze stirred up the same strange emotion I always felt whenever I was around her.
I was so lost in my head that I almost forgot where I was or why I was there.
“Roman,” Andrei’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “Are you still with us?”
I blinked back to the present, my eyes narrowing at him.
The air reeked of cigar smoke and whisky, an atmosphere heavy enough to smother conversation. The chandelier above cast a warm glow over the long mahogany table that stretched across the room.
I was seated at the head of the table, my jacket draped over my chair, the sleeves of my crisp white shirt rolled up to my elbows. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on me, a glint of suspicion on their faces.
Dmitri cleared his throat and looked in my direction. “Lucian Sokolov has been sniffing around our contacts in Prague,” he said. “As we speak, two suppliers have already gone dark this week alone.”
My brows furrowed ever so slightly, fingers drumming on the table before me.
“He’s testing us,” Mikhail chipped in, his voice deep and raucous. “The idiot’s trying to see how far he can go before we react.”
Lucian Sokolov was the leader of a rival syndicate, the Vipers, a ruthless gang feared throughout Chicago. Despite being new to the game, this organization had risen in the ranks in the criminal underworld in a short period of time.
Sokolov had made a name for himself, and that pride was starting to get to his head. He was mistaken if he thought he could mess with the Bratva under my watch.
“He’s obviously trying to get your attention; that’s why he’s spreading that rumor,” Andrei said.
My eyebrows shot up, my curiosity piqued. “What rumors?”
“That you’ve taken a woman for yourself,” he answered. “One you intend to marry.”
The room was silent for a moment until a short, humorless laugh escaped my throat. Amused by this news, my lips curved into a mischievous grin. Clearly, Sokolov had no idea who the girl was or why she was taken.
However, the longer I thought about this rumor, the more my smirk slowly faded away. Sokolov had already painted the narrative that the girl in my mansion meant something to me. As crazy as it sounded, the bastard just gave me an idea.
Perhaps, taking the girl as my bride wouldn’t be such a bad thing anyway. She was right when she said she was innocent and that she didn’t deserve to pay for her father’s crimes.
I’d done a little digging and found out that Mercer had been absent for almost her entire life.
This meant that she might hate the man almost as much as I did.
There was a slight possibility that Mercer could be a mutual enemy.
However, at the end of the day, her father was the one I was after, not her.
He might be a pain in the ass, but there was still a part of him that cared deeply about her.
Taking her as my wife would break him in ways he wouldn’t expect. Sokolov already thought it was my plan. So maybe I’d make that a reality—that way, she would belong to me for the rest of her life. This way, I’d kill two birds with one stone.
A crooked smirk played on my lips as I reclined in my chair, fingers stroking my jaw. This was a work in progress, but if I planned it well, I would emerge triumphant in the end.
She would hate me even more—but I couldn’t care less because at least she’d belong to me.
I felt my anticipation building as I basked in the thought of Mercer’s misery when he’d find out. He began this war—but I would be the one to finish it.
***
Later that evening, I stood by the window in my study, a hand in my pocket, my eyes fixed on my little prison. She was wandering the garden, smelling the roses, a soft expression on her face. A few of my most loyal men watched her from a distance, their sharp eyes tracing her every move.
I sipped from my glass, my tie sagging loosely around my neck as I studied her. She looked so harmless, yet beneath that innocence was a fiery young woman—one whose strength pulled me in like steel to a magnet.
The idea of making her mine forever hadn’t stopped replaying in my head since the Bratva meeting. I’d given it a lot of thought and had come to the conclusion that no one else deserved her but me.
This time, it wasn’t just about revenge. It wasn’t only about making Mercer suffer. It was about me and what I wanted. I wanted her, and I was going to have her at any cost.
My eyes darted toward the front gate where a black SUV rolled into the courtyard and pulled over by the fountain. A tall man with gray hair, dressed in the same color of suit, stepped out of the vehicle and headed toward the entrance.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took another sip, recognizing the unexpected visitor. His name was Viktor, and he was Lucian Sokolov’s envoy.
Not long after, I heard a knock on my door.
“Boss,” Sergei called out from behind, his shoes scuffing against the floor. “We have a visitor.”
I turned around to find the gray-haired man standing beside my lieutenant.
“Evening, Mr. Tarasov,” he greeted me, barely holding my gaze.
I didn’t respond, just stared at him with quiet intensity—the kind that unnerved him.
His face paled when he stepped forward and extended a sealed envelope. “A message from Mr. Sokolov.” His voice almost cracked, hinting at the fear he tried to bury.
I hesitated, watching his stretched out hand subtly trembling before I accepted the envelope from him. I set my glass on the table, then tore it open with a flick of my thumb.
The paper was thick, expensive, and when my eyes scanned through the content of the handwritten letter, my expression darkened.
Lucian was suggesting a trade in his letter.
The bastard had the guts to propose an exchange for the girl.
In his letter, he asked me to name my price because he believed she would be better under his care.
My jaw tightened as I crumpled the paper into my fist and dropped it into the ashtray on my table. I withdrew a lighter from my pocket, turning the paper into flames with a single spark.
When I returned my gaze to the gray-haired man, he was already sweating on his forehead. Fear was etched across his face, and I could almost hear the sound of his heartbeat.
Quietly, I walked around my desk with slow, measured steps, watching him tremble as I approached. In no time, I halted before him, my imposing frame towering over his average height.
“I should kill you where you stand and feed your body to my hounds,” I growled, my voice dripping with venom.
“I’m just a messenger, Mr. Tarasov. Just a messenger,” he said softly, unable to look up at my face.
I went silent for a while, feeling the rage coursing through me like electricity. The mere thought of that pig’s hands on her only made my blood boil.
“Tell Sokolov that the girl is not for sale,” I said to the man. “She is off-limits. Is that clear?”
He nodded. “Crystal.”
“Now, get out.”
He didn’t waste another second before rushing to the door. Sergei didn’t leave immediately; he just stood there, watching me seethe in silence. I could sense his curiosity as he wondered whether the girl was starting to mean something to me.
Quietly, he too headed out, leaving me alone with my rage.
This young woman had become valuable in ways she didn’t even understand. I had no idea what Sokolov wanted with her or how he had learned of her presence in my mansion. But one thing was certain: I would never let him lay a finger on her, let alone claim her as his own.
She belonged to me and me alone.
Beneath the iron shell of my rage, I could feel the truth pressing harder than ever. This young woman wasn’t just a weapon for my vengeance anymore.
No.
She was gradually becoming something more than that, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.