Chapter Nine #2
The twins down half their glasses with practiced gulps that make my eyes narrow and sit down at the counter with their dinners.
That halibut with wild rice and asparagus they selected must be spectacular, because it's gone in minutes.
Roman further solidifies his standing in their eyes by pulling out a chocolate cream cake.
"Is the cake the reason you have to eat all that kale and whole grains first?" I nudge him with my shoulder.
Maybe I shouldn't have had that second glass of wine. I always get too chummy when I drink.
"I have a terrible sweet tooth," he admits. "My brothers give me constant shit for it. Dmitri asked once if I'd pick chocolate over vodka and when I said yes, he told me the entire Russian culture had just officially disowned me."
"Dmitri, he's the oldest, right?" I try to recall my research on the Morozovs.
"Yes." His smile tightens and he drinks the rest of his wine. "Soon to be Pakhan."
He doesn't like that.
"Do you want to be Pakhan?" I ask, watching Iris and Rose plow through the cake like it might be taken from them.
"Iisus Khristos, no!" he says instantly. Forcing a smile, he pours the last of the wine bottle in my glass and he switches to a bottle of vodka he pulls out of the fridge. "Buried in paperwork and bullshit business details for the rest of my life?"
"You do make it sound so enticing," I say dryly. "If Dmitri's the big guy in charge, what's your position, this being a family business and all?"
"I could really use a shower," Rose interrupts us. "Can you show me where we're sleeping? I mean, we can use the couch in the living room, though, no problem."
"What kind of host do you take me for?" Roman sets aside his drink, taking us up the stairs to the third floor of the house.
"Is this house all yours?" I ask. The paintings lining the walls as we walk up the stairs are so precise and clear that I want to stop and examine each one in the golden glow cast by the chandelier. It's an enormous polished brass and crystal creation, lording over the two-story entry.
"Yes," he says, "though my brother Alexsey is here often enough that I should start charging him rent."
"It's a big house for one person," Rose observes.
"I'd get lonely, I think," Iris adds.
"Don't worry about Roman," I say dryly, "I'm sure he has guests over all the time."
"Do you mean female guests?" Roman slows down to let the girls pass him, whispering in my ear. "You're thinking this is my fuck palace? I'm disappointed in you. I thought I'd crushed all your assumptions that I lived in a bachelor hellscape."
Shrugging, I do feel mean-spirited. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I rarely bring women home," he says, opening a door. "Present company excluded, of course."
He's looking at me as he says it, green eyes dark and intent and damn him if it doesn't send my long-dormant hormones screaming into overdrive.
The guest bedroom he offers the twins is three times the size of the one at my apartment, the paneled walls are painted a dark teal and the bed is ridiculously luxurious, cashmere blankets and velvety-soft sheets and pillows.
It reminds me that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in… I can't remember.
Roman must notice my shoulders sag, because he moves the tour along, showing the girls the attached bathroom and tells them he'll have one of his guards bring their bags up.
"Can the hot one with the neck tattoo bring them up?" Rose says, smiling innocently.
"No seducing my men," he says, pointing a stern finger. "You two are dangerous, I can already tell."
"You have no idea." I rub the back of my neck as Roman escorts me down the hall. "They've left a trail of broken hearts behind them since they were twelve. Going to an all-girl's school did nothing to stop them."
He leans against the wall, a door next to him and another directly across the hall. Nodding to the one facing us, he says, "That's my bedroom. Do you want to see if I've got a bed covered in hooks and restraint gear? An armoire filled with whips and ball gags?"
Why did that just send a bolt of lightning down to light up my lady garden?
Clearing my throat, I say, "You leave it all at the club. Too much work to set up a full bondage apparatus in your bedroom. Your decor is too perfect. You'd never find a St. Andrew's Cross that would match all this oak furniture."
This sets him off, throwing his perfectly-shaped head back and laughing heartily, showing off his even, white teeth.
Damn him! Why couldn't Roman be ugly, or hideously scarred? I can't think clearly with all this masculinity going on the offensive with me.
"That's somewhat accurate," he says, stepping closer and running his fingers through my hair.
"Not in my bedroom, anyway." He leans closer until I can feel his breath, warm on my cheek.
"I do have a room on the second floor, however, devoted to all things carnal.
Things to bind you. To break you and make you whole again. "
To my horror, a high, little whine escapes my lips.
"Would you like to see it?" Even his whisper is filthy, filled with dark promises and I sag against the wall. The knowing curve of his lips tells me he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
This man pulled an eyeball from Jack's head tonight.
But, then he came to rescue us, his hands still bloody.
Why does he smell so good? Like the vodka he drank and peppermint. Something crisp and wintery, like snow.
Roman's head is bent, the tip of his nose running along the line of my jaw. He's enormous, all muscle and heat, surrounding me.
"I- I'm tired," I stumble over the words, my tongue clumsy and everything south of my waist screaming at me to shut the hell up. "We should talk tomorrow. You'll- uh. You'll know more about the men with guns then, right?"
If he touches me I am so screwed. I will jump him and climb that gorgeous body like a redwood.
Roman lets out a low groan, which is very flattering. Stepping back, he takes a deep breath. "You're going to regret that," he says in a low, raspy tone. "You'll be in bed tonight, alone, just your fingers and your thoughts of me and I'm sure you're going to use both to get off. Or…"
He does a thing so perverse and unnatural that I nearly come, right here in the hallway. Roman chastely kisses my cheek.
"You know where I am if you change your mind," he whispers, opening the door behind me. It's another guest bedroom. "Goodnight."
Whistling, he puts his hands in his pockets and strolls over to his bedroom, closing the door with a wink.
I close my door too, with a weird flush of victory. His 'hands in the pockets trick' did nothing to hide his enormous erection.