Chapter 24
Ryder
But I guess that was all part of the con, projecting polished smiles and practiced charm almost enough to rival mine, when in reality he was a Bratva heir with more death at his hands than confessions in a church.
Everything was just camouflage for the predator hiding beneath.
It’s what made me so fascinated with his company all those years ago, when we were nothing but rodents living on the street. It’s also probably why our friendship lasted so long.
Not to mention his role in a particularly dark chapter of my life, when I needed someone far more dangerous. As I’ve said, I didn’t really do wet and sticky if I could help it.
Although, he wasn’t looking too pleased to see me when I input his private lift’s code that bypassed the security at the front desk and took me straight to his apartment. Probably had something to do with the woman he’d had bent over the sofa as I’d walked in, catching him mid-thrust.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll call you, love,” I teased, the woman rushing to the now unoccupied lift with her clothes bundled in her arms. As she turned, I shook my head, mouthing the words, ‘He won’t,’ just as the doors slid closed.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Roman growled, tugging on his trousers. “I was busy.”
“Clearly.” I moved to the kitchen, already pouring myself a drink from one of his expensive whiskey bottles. I made him one too, because I wasn’t a complete animal.
Roman appeared moments later, his cock thankfully covered but his chest left bare as he showed off the snake tattooed down his left side. An identical snake to my own. But while his was a statement, mine disguised scars.
He eyed the glass of whiskey but ignored it to reach into his fridge for the milk instead.
“So, she seemed nice,” I commented, amused by how he drank the milk straight from the carton. “Seemed in a bit of a hurry to get out of here, though. You must have lost your touch.”
“What do you want, Ry?” he sighed, placing down the milk to cross his arms. “I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
“I have a price on my head.” I waited for his response, but he simply raised a dark brow as if waiting for me to continue. “At least act surprised,” I muttered.
Roman had the audacity to smirk. “You really do have a talent for pissing people off.”
“Rude. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” he drawled. “I’m just doing my part to keep that gigantic ego of yours from floating away.”
I laughed, because without Roman, I would have self-destructed years ago. He somehow kept me grounded, or at the very least, standing at my side when I inevitably dove headfirst into trouble.
“Tell me what happened,” he asked rather than demanded, and I told him everything from the red-flagged offer, to the crazy as fuck mother, to Cedric’s hard-on for my life.
As I spoke, the lift doors slid open and out stepped good old Maxim, wearing his usual mask of impassive indifference.
Roman didn’t even bother acknowledging him, which came as no surprise considering Maxim was his father’s guard dog, and Rome knew better than to tug that leash.
Push too hard and Daddy dearest would come sniffing around, and honestly, Roman had enough headaches without that prick breathing down his neck.
“Where is Violet now?” he asked, with Maxim raising a brow at the question but thankfully staying quiet as he waited in the threshold between the kitchen and living room.
Good dog.
“I left her at my flat.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You fuck her?”
“Of course I didn’t.” The whiskey burned a little as I finished the glass.
“I don’t fuck everything with legs. Plus, she’s super fucking annoying.
She blurts out whatever she’s thinking, can’t sit still for five seconds, and reacts before she thinks.
I swear, her brain runs faster than she does.
I’m actually amazed she’s made it this far in one piece. ”
“Hasn’t stopped you before.”
I went to reply, but the words caught on my tongue. Yes, she was cute in a soft, breakable way. The kind of innocence that made men stupid if they let it. I wasn’t blind to it; I felt the pull.
The temptation to imagine what it would be like to push her, to see what she’d look like when she wasn’t so innocent…
The thought lingered longer than it should have, sharp and possessive.
“Khochesh', chtoby ya izbavilsya ot nego, Knyaz’?” Maxim grunted.
“Khvatit etogo, on moy gost',” Roman snapped over his shoulder before returning to me. “You should get rid of her. She’s the only thing connecting you to the job.”
I reached over for his untouched whiskey and lifted it to my lips. “And leave her to swim with sharks? That’s a bit cold, Rome. Even for you.”
Roman’s jaw ticked as he stewed on it for a beat. “If I deal with the hit, you owe me.”
“What happened to helping out of the kindness of your heart?” I smirked over the rim of the glass. “If you don’t help, you’ll be peeling me off the floor. Then who else will listen to you bitch about your father?”
“Tebe slédúet vyrezát' emu yázyk,” Maxim muttered.
Before Roman could respond, I growled, “Da budet u tebya chlen na lbu!”
‘I hope a dick grows on your forehead,’ or something like that. Seriously, Russians have the strangest insults.
“I see our lessons have been working,” Roman said dryly.
I tossed Maxim a wink, but his face stayed as blank as a statue. Which, of course meant he was secretly amused. I could tell.
“What’s up with your dad?” I asked Roman. “He give you an ultimatum?”
“He expects me to get married.” Roman pursed his lips, dragging his fingers through already-tousled brown hair.
“What the hell does having a wife have to do with being a Bratva heir?”
“Tradition,” Maxim grunted, at least in English this time. See? The guy did have a soft spot for me, even if I did dismiss his comment as being stupid.
“He thinks marriage means stability,” Roman added.
“We’re too young to get married,” I whined.
“We’re almost thirty.”
“I have too many single years left in me.”
“Again, you’re not the one he expects to get married.”
“Hendrix was a fucking badass before he tied the knot, and now look at him. Elena has him wrapped around her little finger.”
Roman sighed. “Still not relevant.”
“I bet he crochets in the evenings,” I continued, undeterred. “Can you imagine sticking to one pussy for the rest of your life? Horrifying.”
Maxim crossed his arms but stayed where he was. “Marriage means children. More heirs.”
I put the whiskey down, sliding it towards Roman. He needed it more than I did. “We all know you don’t need a ring and a fancy bit of paper to have children,” I scoffed.
“One problem at a time,” Roman grunted, ignoring the whiskey to knock back another swig of milk. The guy was Bratva royalty, and he was chugging full-fat like a toddler before nap time.
I smirked. “Did you want some cookies with that?”
Roman replied with his middle finger.
“There’s a simple answer to your problem,” I commented, my eyes sliding to Maxim.
“He’s fine,” Roman reassured me. “You can speak freely in front of him.”
I raised a brow, but Maxim barely acknowledged my existence. Rude.
“You could just… not get married,” I finished, earning a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“Come on, Rome. Think about it. What do you do better than anyone else? Lie. You’ve got the dishevelled charm and the roguish smile.
You could sell ice to an Eskimo, and I remember once you even convinced that woman that you’d found her long lost granddaughter because you were bored.
Just trick your father into thinking you’re married, or at least engaged.
Run the con. It’s practically your love language. ”
Roman snorted. “Says the man whose love language is to fuck off the wrong people.”
I raised my empty glass in salute.“Yeah, well, at least mine’s consistent. Yours just depends on how good the lie is,” I said with a shrug.
Roman thought about it a moment, his green eyes darkening. “And where exactly am I supposed to find this fake wife?”
“Oh no, that’s as far as my generosity goes,” I chuckled. “I’ll take payment in the form of your help figuring out who the hell this annoyingly vague Mr C is.”
“You’re an arsehole.”
I grinned, shameless. “And that’s exactly why we’re best friends.”