Chapter Ten #2
The door to the basement looks like Gandalf should be blocking it, screaming, "You shall not pass!" It's not only locked, it has an actual iron door, like the kind you'd find on a safe. Rose and Iris exchange glances and turn, heading quickly back down the hall.
"Let me guess?" I ask. "Gold bullion? A treasure trove of diamonds? Or one of those pet tigers like the Colombian drug lords have?"
He leans close enough for a kiss and whispers, "Maybe someday I'll show you."
Heading upstairs, I remember his taunting about his at-home dungeon. I would've thought that behind that creepy iron door was the logical spot. When we reach the second floor, we pass by a locked door with a biometric scanner panel on the wall.
"It only opens for me," Roman says, running his hand across the small of my back. It feels like a streak of fire over my skin and my shoulders twitch. Damn him!
A huge gym takes up the back of the house.
He's opened up two rooms to create it, with tall windows to look out onto a tidy garden that is surprisingly larger than I would expect in downtown New York.
The garden has very high brick walls that are surely not to city code and even from here, I can see sensors and security cameras.
"My Southern grandma would say, 'This place is locked down tighter than a bull's ass at fly time,'" I laugh, eyeing all the chrome weights.
"I want to meet your grandmother," Alexsey says. "Today. Let's go visit her, right now."
"She sadly has passed away and is buried in a little graveyard in West Texas," I say. "As far away from our grandfather's grave as possible. Grandma said she'd put up with him enough in this life. She did love the pretty men, though, you would have been her favorite."
Though the focus of the gym is decidedly masculine with the speed bag, heavy weight bags, and a bunch of extremely substantial-looking equipment, there's still plenty of mats for yoga and aerobics and a spectacular sound system.
"This little corner will be very popular with Rose and Iris," I say happily, watching them haul out a pair of kettlebells.
"That's good," Roman says. "I know you like to go for a run after work, but that's not going to be possible for a while. You can use the treadmill here."
My happiness drops with a thud. "What are you talking about?"
"There might have been a little questioning of useful sources last night," he says, pulling me out into the hall. He shuts the gym door, leaving my sisters to torment the sadly unprepared Alexsey again. Even though he is an incorrigible flirt, I'm beginning to feel sorry for him.
"What do you know?" My stomach is knotting up again.
"I took a more thorough look at Jack's venture capital firm.
The Chads have all kinds of outside interests and the money they're lending for startups isn't all going to software companies or AI development.
There's some murky shit listed on their start-up records.
It's a great source for laundering money," he says.
"Dmitri really should look into that…" He looks thoughtful for a minute until I tug on his shirt.
"But moving on. I don't know why they're protecting Jack, but they're definitely looking after him. I wounded one of the shooters last night and I sent a couple of men to pick him up for me before he could get far. He's a professional."
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It means it was extremely difficult to get anything out of him," he says, his mouth a flat, tight line.
That is pissing him off, I can tell. "He and another man were assigned to trail Jack.
It looks like your asshole stepfather gets in more trouble than the Chads are happy about.
But they're willing to tolerate him for the time being at least, because of their three upcoming mergers. "
I frown. "Three mergers - shit! Do you mean me and my sisters? The whole creepy marriage thing?"
"Exactly. If there's hired muscle already involved here, they're not going to be happy that the three of you disappeared.
Ivan checked on your apartment today, it had already been broken into.
He must've chased off whoever was there because they hadn't had a chance to ransack the place yet.
" He cups the back of my head. "Don't worry, I've already got locksmiths up there, they changed out your front door, too. That thing was hollow-core shit."
"Son of a bitch!" Pressing my hand against my throbbing forehead, I turn away, taking a couple of steps and then turning back. "I did not know one human being could screw up this many lives in one fell swoop. Jack, he's like all Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse rolled into one."
"Not a chance," Roman says, supportively, I think. "He's a beta. He could never be a Horseman."
"That's fair. I don't understand this. Sure, I'm certain the three of us would be great catches," I say sarcastically.
"But still, the percentage of hot, well-educated single women here in New York City is like twenty-seven thousand to one suitable male applicant.
It's not like they couldn't find better alternatives from a single Friday night bar crawl. "
"You have to understand their mindset," Roman says, taking my elbow and guiding me down the hall, his steps slow just slightly as we pass his mysterious locked door before he takes me down the stairs and into the living room.
He seats me on the couch. I realize my hands are cold because he's rubbing them and it feels wonderful.
"With men like these," he says, his tone grave, "it goes beyond looks, and other useful attributes for the perfect little wife.
It goes to power. The power of knowing that your wife can never leave you, no matter how you treat her.
The power where you can demand as many children as you want, and knowing she will always behave exactly as you want her to.
“The kind of woman who meets all those requirements and who is also in a position where he could exert that power over her, is very rare. It's one of the reasons you and your sisters are so desirable to these men. Jack has really sold you as a prime candidate."
Pulling my hands back I tuck them under my arms. "I'm not naive, you know," I raise my chin.
"I've seen things. You cannot believe what I've seen at the shelter, what people can do to each other.
I know how dark it can get. But that usually involves desperation, or drugs, or intense poverty.
This kind of evil matched with entitlement and wealth is just… " I shake my head.
"I promise you that I will keep you and your sisters safe.
" Roman takes my hand and presses it over his heart, like a vow.
His heartbeat is steady and calm, like a talk this horrifying is one he has every day.
"I'll finish off Jack," he says, "and I will make certain The Chads understand that you and your sisters are off-limits unless they want a very short and miserable life. "
"That's a lot of things," I say, a little dazed. "I only have the hundred thousand dollars, is that going to be enough?" I can tell he wants to laugh again, but he subdues his amusement, gently pushing back my hair over my shoulder.
"It's plenty, sweet Violet. This is the one thing you don't have to worry about."
"Thank you," I say fervently. "I could get myself out of anything, I'm pretty sure, but Rose and Iris…
My mother intentionally kept them helpless, and a little na?ve.
That's why they've honed these flirtation games, trying to grow up.
I would kill to save them. Or rather, I guess you'll kill to save them but this is so much bigger than I could've imagined. "
"Bastards like these enjoy making a mess.
" He stands up, stretching. I can hear his powerful muscles creak from here.
"It's always a pain in the ass to clean up.
" A vulpine grin stretches across his face.
"Fortunately, I have just the sort of employees who are uniquely capable of handling the aftermath. "
Roman's sleeves are rolled up on his white shirt, and I can see the scars littering his skin, and a black scaled dragon tattoo along his forearm, its tail wrapped around his wrist. His hands are large and capable.
I know he's taken lives with them. Maybe dozens of men's lives.
But he's managed kindness and almost a curious gentleness for us, this from a man whose history has to be filled with violence and brutality.
Maybe Roman Morozov has a soft spot, a tender underbelly.
Rising abruptly, I hug him. A proper hug, putting my whole body into it, my arms wrapped around his back and my cheek against his chest. His hands lift, cautiously for a moment, then wrap around me, too, nice and tight.
We stand like that for a moment, swaying slightly in the sunlight. Then I catch something out of the corner of my eye, a metallic object on the floor behind the couch by the window.
"Is that a flamethrower?"
Roman doesn't look at it, his eyes steady on me. "Yes." "
"Is there a reason you have a flamethrower in your living room?" I ask, still staring at it. It's an enormous thing, black and at least 4 feet long, with all kinds of tubes and a gigantic nozzle that looks like it could set fire to an entire city block in thirty seconds.
"Oh," he says dismissively, his arms still wrapped around me, "Alexsey brought it back this morning and I didn't have time to put it away before you girls came down. So, I put it behind the sofa so it wouldn't alarm your sisters."
"I see…" I say faintly. "That's so thoughtful of you."
We hug for a few more minutes until we hear the gym door open upstairs and the twins chase Alexsey down the stairs.