Chapter 46 Roman
ROMAN
The basement reeks of fear and blood, exactly as it should. Four of Abram's soldiers kneel on the concrete floor, hands zip-tied behind their backs, blindfolds covering their eyes. The darkness amplifies everything. Every sound. Every breath. Every moment of anticipation before pain arrives.
I circle them slowly, my footsteps deliberate against the concrete. Let them hear me coming. Let them wonder which one I'll hit next. The psychological warfare is often more effective than the physical violence, though I'm more than willing to employ both.
Lev stands near the steel table, his dark suit somehow still immaculate despite the work we've been doing for the past three hours. His knuckles are bruised, split in places where bone connected with jaw. Mine probably look the same, though I haven't bothered checking.
I stop behind the second man from the left. He's maybe thirty, with the kind of hard face that comes from years in this life. His breathing quickens as he senses my presence, his body tensing in anticipation.
I let the silence stretch. One second. Two. Three.
Then my fist connects with his jaw with enough force to snap his head sideways.
The crack echoes through the basement, and he spits blood onto the concrete.
The other three flinch at the sound, their blindfolded faces turning toward the noise, trying to determine who just got hit and whether they're next.
"Who ordered the attacks on the Chinese gambling operations?" My voice is low, controlled, the accent thicker than usual. "I want names. Dates. Proof."
Silence. Stubborn, terrified silence.
I nod at Lev, and he moves to the man on the far right. His punch is precise, clinical, aimed at the solar plexus. The soldier doubles over with a wheeze, struggling to breathe through the pain.
"We can do this all night," Lev says, his voice flat and professional. "Or you can talk and make this easier on everyone."
More silence. These men are loyal, I'll give them that. Or more likely, they're more afraid of Abram than they are of us. That needs to change.
I think about Eva upstairs, probably already in bed, her blonde hair spread across my pillows.
The image makes something warm bloom in my chest, chasing away some of the cold calculation required for this work.
She's waiting for me, and I'm down here, doing what needs to be done to protect her, to protect our future.
The thought hardens my resolve.
I move to the third man, younger than the others, maybe twenty-five. His breathing is rapid, panicked, and I can smell the fear radiating from him. This one will break first.
My fist connects with his kidney, a blow designed to cause maximum pain without permanent damage. He cries out, the sound raw and desperate, and I see the others tense further.
"The Chinese operations," I repeat, my voice dropping to that low register that makes most people step back. "Who gave the orders?"
"I… I don't…" The young one's voice cracks. "Please, I just do what I'm told. I don't know the big picture."
Progress. Fear is making him talk, even if he's not saying anything useful yet.
Lev circles to the first man, the oldest of the group. His punch is brutal, connecting with the jaw hard enough that I hear teeth crack. Blood sprays across the concrete, and the man slumps sideways, barely conscious.
"Wrong answer," Lev says calmly. "Let's try again."
The interrogation continues with methodical efficiency. We work them systematically, varying the timing and targets so they can never predict who's next. The psychological pressure builds with each blow, each question, each moment of terrified anticipation.
My mind drifts to Eva despite my best efforts to stay focused.
The way she looked this morning in that green sweater dress, the fabric clinging to her fuller breasts and the curve of her stomach.
How her brown eyes darkened with desire when I touched her.
The promise in her voice when she said, "Tonight. "
Blyat. Even here, even doing this brutal work, I want her. My cock stirs with interest, and I have to adjust myself discreetly.
"Roman." Lev's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "This one's ready to talk."
The young soldier is trembling now, tears soaking through his blindfold. "Please," he gasps. "Please, I'll tell you what I know. Just… just don't kill me."
I crouch in front of him, close enough that he can feel my breath. "Then talk."
The words spill out in a desperate rush.
Names of Abram's lieutenants who coordinated the attacks.
Dates and locations of meetings where strategy was discussed.
Details about the weapons used, stolen from our own armory through a contact we haven't identified yet. It's not everything, but it's a start.
"The financial stuff," I press. "The IRS audit. The frozen bank accounts. Who's feeding them information?"
"I don't know about that," he sobs. "That's above my level. But I heard… I heard there's someone inside your organization. Someone close to you. They're the one giving Abram everything."
My blood runs cold. A mole. Inside my organization. Someone I trust has been betraying me to Abram, feeding him intelligence, helping him destroy everything I've built.
Lev's dark eyes meet mine, and I see the same cold fury reflected there. We'll find whoever it is. And when we do, they'll wish they'd never been born.
The other three soldiers break after that, each one adding pieces to the puzzle. By the time we're finished, we have names, dates, and locations. Enough to start building a case that will prove Abram's guilt to the other families and the Moscow delegates.
"Get it all documented," I order Lev. "Videos, surveillance footage, financial records, emails. Whatever we can find to corroborate what they've told us. I want proof that will hold up under scrutiny."
Lev nods, already pulling out his phone to coordinate with our intelligence team. "What about them?" He gestures to the four soldiers, all of them slumped and bleeding on the concrete.
I study them for a long moment. They're liabilities now, witnesses to our methods. The smart move would be to eliminate them, to ensure they can never testify against us. But I think about Eva, about the woman waiting upstairs who's trying so hard to see past the monster to something worth saving.
"Keep them here," I decide. "Comfortable but confined. We might need them to testify later, to corroborate the evidence we gather."
Lev's eyebrow raises slightly, but he doesn't question my decision. He knows me well enough to understand that Eva has changed my calculations, made me consider options I would have dismissed before.
I leave the basement and climb the stairs to the main floor, my knuckles throbbing, my shirt spotted with blood despite my care. The estate is quiet, most of the staff already retired for the night. I check my watch and grimace. Past midnight. Eva is probably asleep by now, exhausted from the day.
But when I enter the master bedroom, I find her very much awake.
Candles flicker on every surface, casting warm light across the space.
Eva sits propped against the headboard, wearing nothing but one of my dress shirts, the white fabric barely covering her thighs.
Her blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, and her brown eyes track my movement as I close the door behind me.
On the nightstand sits a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries, and the sight makes something warm bloom in my chest. She's been waiting for me. Planning this.
"You're late," she says, her voice soft but not accusatory.
"Business took longer than expected." I move to the bathroom, washing the blood from my hands with methodical precision. When I return, Eva is watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Come here," she says, patting the bed beside her.
I settle onto the mattress, and she immediately curls against my side, her hand resting over my heart. The simple gesture of affection makes my throat tight with emotions I'm not accustomed to feeling.
"I was thinking," Eva begins, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest through my shirt. "About us. About everything that's happened. How we started, where we are now."
I wait, giving her space to gather her thoughts. Her hand drifts lower, and I feel my cock stir with interest despite my exhaustion.
"I love you." The words are quiet but absolute. "I know it's complicated. I know you're dangerous and our relationship started all wrong. But I love you, Roman. I need you to know that."
My chest tightens so hard, I can barely breathe. She loves me. This woman who should run screaming from everything I am, who's seen the monster beneath the expensive suits, who knows exactly what I'm capable of. She loves me anyway.
"Solnyshko," I breathe, cupping her face with both hands. "I love you too. More than I thought possible. More than is probably safe for either of us."
The admission tears from my throat, raw and honest. I've never said those words to anyone except Katya. Never allowed myself to feel this deeply, this completely. But Eva has gotten past every defense I've built, and I'm helpless against the tide of emotion she creates.
Her lips find mine, and the kiss is different from all the others. Slower. Deeper. Filled with something more than just desire. I taste chocolate on her tongue, sweet and rich, and groan against her mouth.
"Make love to me," she whispers. "Not sex. Not fucking. Make love to me, Roman."
I strip away my clothes with shaking hands, then carefully unbutton the shirt she's wearing.
Each button reveals more of her skin, the curve of her breasts, the swell of her stomach where our child grows.
When she's finally naked beneath me, I take my time exploring her body with my hands and mouth.
I worship her breasts, feeling their weight, teasing her nipples until she's gasping. I trace the curve of her hip, the softness of her inner thighs. I taste her skin, memorizing the way she responds to my touch.
When I finally enter her, it's slow and deliberate. Our eyes lock, and I see everything I feel reflected back at me. Love. Need. The terrifying vulnerability of letting someone see past the armor to the man beneath.
We move together with a rhythm that feels ancient and new all at once. Eva's legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, and I bury my face in her neck, breathing in her scent.
"I love you," I murmur against her throat, the words coming easier now. "My wife. My solnyshko. Mine."
"Yours," she agrees, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Always yours."
When we finally come apart together, it's with a connection that goes beyond physical pleasure. We collapse in a tangle of limbs, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined.
I pull her against my chest, and she curls into me with a contentment that makes my heart ache. Within minutes, her breathing evens out, and she's asleep in my arms.
I lie awake, watching her sleep, feeling the weight of what we've just shared. I love her. She loves me. And somehow, against all odds, we're making this work.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, shattering the peace. I reach for it carefully, not wanting to wake Eva, and see a message from one of the Moscow delegates.
We need to meet. Tomorrow afternoon. Your office.
My stomach drops to my feet. The delegates want a meeting. After everything that's happened, after the chaos of the wedding and the evidence we've been gathering against Abram, they're ready to deliver their judgment.
Tomorrow, I'll learn whether I keep my empire or lose everything.