Chapter 28 Roman
ROMAN
The black SUVs pull through the estate gates like a funeral procession, and I watch from my study window as Eva's meager belongings are unloaded.
Three boxes and two suitcases. That's all she owns in the world, and the sight makes something twist in my chest. She's standing on the circular drive, her blonde hair pulled back in that sleek bun I want to destroy with my hands, her posture rigid with the same stubborn pride that's been driving me insane since the moment she agreed to marry me.
She's mine now. Living under my roof. Carrying my child. Soon to wear my ring.
But not in my bed. Not yet.
I drain my vodka and set the glass down harder than necessary.
The past week has been torture—finalizing the arrangements to move her in, coordinating security, preparing the master bedroom for her arrival.
I'd imagined her in my space, her perfume on my pillows, her body warm against mine every night.
Instead, she's about to tell me no, and I already know I'm going to let her win this battle.
Fuck.
I make my way downstairs, my footsteps echoing through the marble foyer.
Eva turns as I approach, her brown eyes carefully neutral, her professional armor firmly in place despite the casual jeans and sweater she's wearing.
Even dressed down, she's beautiful in that understated way that sneaks up on you.
The sweater hugs her breasts, and my hands itch to cup them, to feel their weight, to make her gasp my name the way she did against my office door.
"Welcome home," I say, my accent thicker than I intend.
Her jaw tightens slightly. "Thank you."
One of my men approaches with her suitcases, waiting for direction. I gesture toward the stairs. "Third floor. Master bedroom."
"No."
The word is quiet but absolute. Eva's brown eyes meet mine without flinching, and I see the steel beneath her exhaustion. "I'll take a guest room. We're not married yet."
"Eva—"
"I won't share your bed until the wedding makes it legitimate." Her voice is steady, controlled, but I hear the tremor beneath it. "That's non-negotiable."
I study her face, reading the determination there, the last piece of herself she's clinging to. She's surrendered so much already. This is the line she's drawing, and I recognize that pushing will only drive her further away.
"Second floor," I tell my man, my voice flat. "The blue guest suite."
Relief flickers across Eva's features before she masks it.
She follows the security team upstairs, and I watch the sway of her hips, the curve of her ass in those jeans, and imagine peeling them off her body.
Soon. After the wedding, she'll be in my bed every night, and I'll make her forget every reason she tried to keep distance between us.
But for now, the empty master bedroom mocks me.
I can't stay here. Can't pace these halls knowing Eva is one floor below, so close but untouchable. I grab my jacket and keys, texting Lev that I'm heading to the office. His response is immediate.
Already here with David. We need to talk.
The drive into the city does nothing to ease my frustration.
The Saturday evening traffic is light, and I arrive at the tower in record time.
The building is mostly empty, just security and the occasional workaholic burning weekend hours.
The elevator ride to the forty-second floor feels longer than usual, my mind churning with thoughts of Eva unpacking in that guest suite, claiming space in my home but not in my bed.
Lev and David are in my office when I arrive, both men looking as exhausted as I feel. David has his laptop open, financial reports spread across my desk. Lev stands at the windows, his dark eyes scanning the city below with the same vigilance he brings to everything.
"Tell me you have good news," I say, pouring vodka for all three of us.
David removes his glasses, cleaning them with methodical precision. "The IRS audit is expanding. They're now looking at transactions from seven years ago, requesting documentation we may not have kept. Someone is feeding them a roadmap, Roman. They know exactly where to look."
"And the banks?" I drain my vodka, feeling the burn settle in my chest.
"Two more institutions have frozen accounts pending compliance reviews." David replaces his glasses, his green eyes troubled. "We're running out of channels to move money. Every new entity we establish gets flagged within days."
Lev turns from the window, his expression grim. "The Chinese are threatening to break the alliance completely."
"And the Irish?"
"Demanding a sit-down." Lev's tone makes it clear what that really means. An ultimatum. "They want assurances about our territorial intentions."
I pour another vodka, my mind calculating options. "Yakovlev is behind all of it. The pattern is too consistent, too strategic. We need proof."
I lean against my desk, my hands gripping the edge hard enough that my knuckles go white. "We grab one of his soldiers, make him talk. Someone knows who's orchestrating this."
Lev nods, already pulling out his phone to coordinate.
We spend the next hour reviewing intelligence reports and identifying potential targets.
Planning the kind of operation that requires absolute precision.
It's the work I'm good at—cold calculation, strategic thinking, ruthless efficiency.
But my mind keeps drifting to Eva, to the way her sweater stretched across her breasts, to how her body felt beneath mine the last time I had her.
My phone buzzes. Security, calling from the lobby.
"What?" I answer, my voice sharper than necessary.
"Sir, we have a situation. A young man is demanding to see you. He's refusing to leave, causing a scene. Says his name is Tyler Chen and that it's about Eva Markova."
My jaw tightens. "Send him up."
Lev's head snaps toward me, his dark eyes questioning. I end the call and pour another vodka, my mind racing. Tyler Chen. Megan's brother. The lovesick fool who brought Eva flowers and got tackled by my security team for his trouble.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" Lev asks, his hand already drifting toward the gun concealed beneath his jacket.
"We're about to find out."
The elevator chimes, and Tyler Chen steps out.
He's a scrawny man—boy, actually—with wire-rimmed glasses slightly askew and wearing jeans and a hoodie that make him look even younger than twenty-three.
But there's determination in the set of his shoulders, in the way he walks toward my office despite the fear I can see flickering in his brown eyes.
The boy's courage borders on stupidity. Coming here alone, unarmed, to confront a man he suspects is dangerous. All for a woman who doesn't want him.
Lev moves with predatory silence, positioning himself between Tyler and me, his hand resting on his concealed weapon. I raise my hand slightly, stopping him. There's something almost admirable about this foolish bravery.
"Mr. Chen." I keep my voice neutral, controlled. "This is unexpected."
Tyler's hands clench at his sides, but his voice is steady. "I need to know your intentions toward Eva."
The question would be laughable if it weren't so earnest. I study him—this boy who loves Eva enough to walk into a lion's den, who's trying so hard to be brave despite the trembling I can see in his fingers.
"My intentions are entirely honorable," I say, my accent making the words sound almost mocking. "Eva and I are engaged. She's moved into my home. We're getting married."
"She doesn't love you." Tyler's voice cracks slightly, betraying his desperation. "She's only doing this because you're forcing her somehow. I know you are."
Lev takes a step forward, his expression dangerous, but I stop him with a subtle gesture. "Eva is an adult capable of making her own choices. She chose me."
"Because you gave her no choice!" Tyler's composure is cracking, tears threatening behind his glasses. "I've been researching you, Mr. Sokolov. I know what you are. What you do. Eva deserves better than a criminal."
The accusation hangs in the air between us. David shifts uncomfortably, his lawyer's instincts probably screaming at the liability this conversation represents. Lev's hand is definitely on his gun now, waiting for my signal.
But I find myself almost respecting this foolish boy's courage.
"You're right," I say quietly, and Tyler's eyes widen with surprise. "Eva deserves better than me. Better than my world. But she chose me and I will protect her with everything I have. That's my intention, Mr. Chen. To keep her safe and to provide for her in ways you never could."
The words hit their mark. Tyler's face crumples slightly, the reality of his powerlessness settling over him like a shroud. He has nothing to offer Eva—no money, no protection, no leverage. Just his desperate, unrequited love.
"If you hurt her—" Tyler starts, his voice shaking.
"I won't." The promise comes out harder than I intend. "But your concern is noted."
Tyler holds my gaze for a long moment, trying to find something in my expression that will give him hope, some crack in my armor that suggests Eva might still be saved. He finds nothing. Finally, his shoulders slump in defeat.
"You'd better not," he whispers, then turns toward the elevator.
I watch him go, this lovesick fool who came here armed with nothing but courage and heartbreak. The elevator doors close on his dejected figure, and silence settles over my office.
Lev pulls out his phone, his fingers already moving across the screen. I don't need to give the order. He knows what needs to be done.
"Have him followed," I say anyway, making it official. "Twenty-four-hour surveillance. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to, everything he does."
Lev nods, his dark eyes meeting mine with understanding. "You think he's a threat?"
I consider the question, thinking about Tyler's tears, his desperate love, his amateur investigation into my operations. "I think he's a lovesick fool who might do something stupid to 'save' Eva. Monitor him. Assess the risk. If he becomes a problem…"
I don't finish the sentence. I don't need to.