Chapter 52 Roman
ROMAN
Istand at my office window, watching the city lights flicker to life as dusk settles over the skyline.
The view from the forty-second floor has never looked better.
My empire, rebuilt and stronger than before.
My reputation, not just salvaged but enhanced by how I handled Abram's betrayal.
The Moscow delegates returned home satisfied, their faith in my leadership restored.
And Abram Yakovlev is dead, a bullet between his eyes courtesy of the gray-haired delegate who'd pulled the trigger the moment we confirmed Eva was safe.
No trial. No lengthy deliberation. Just swift, brutal justice delivered by men who understood that some betrayals can only be answered with blood.
The memory of that moment still brings savage satisfaction. Abram's pale gray eyes going wide with shock, then empty. His massive body crumpling to the conference room floor. The delegates stepping over his corpse like it was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle as they prepared to leave.
Good fucking riddance.
My phone buzzes with another report from David.
The IRS audit has been quietly closed, the frozen bank accounts released, the federal scrutiny evaporating as mysteriously as it appeared.
My lawyer worked his magic, and the legitimate businesses are operating smoothly again.
Money flows through proper channels. The Chinese and Irish families have accepted my evidence of Abram's manipulation, and our alliances are stronger than before.
Everything is back on track. Better than before, even.
The office door opens, and I don't need to turn around to know it's Eva. I feel her presence like a physical touch, the way I always do. Her light floral perfume reaches me first, followed by the soft click of her heels against the marble floor.
"Ready?" Her voice is steady, professional, but I hear the tension beneath it.
I turn to face her, and my breath catches despite having seen her every day for weeks.
She's wearing a cream-colored sweater dress that hugs her fuller breasts and the curve of her stomach where our child grows.
Her blonde hair is loose around her shoulders, the way I prefer it, and when her brown eyes meet my blue ones, heat floods through me despite the grim task ahead.
"Are you sure you want to come?" I move toward her, my hands settling on her hips with possessive certainty. "You don't have to face her again, solnyshko."
Eva's jaw tightens with that stubborn pride I both love and want to crush. "I have a right. She tried to kill me. Tried to kill our baby. I deserve to see her face when she learns what we've done to her life."
The fierce protectiveness in her voice makes my cock stir with interest. Even pregnant, even after everything she's been through, Eva refuses to be a victim.
She's steel wrapped in silk, and watching her stand her ground makes me want to bend her over my desk right now and lose myself in her warm, willing body.
But Lev is waiting downstairs, and Irina has been cooling her heels at the safehouse long enough.
I cup Eva's face, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "Then let's go deliver justice."
The drive to the safehouse passes in tense silence.
Eva sits between Lev and me in the back of the SUV, her hand in mine, her thumb tracing circles on my palm that send shivers up my arm.
I catch Lev watching us in the rearview mirror, something complicated flickering in his dark eyes.
This is harder on him than he's letting on.
Five years with Irina, and she betrayed him in the worst possible ways.
The safehouse is a nondescript building in an industrial area, the kind of place that doesn't attract attention.
My guards nod as we enter, their expressions professionally neutral.
They've been watching Irina around the clock, ensuring she can't escape, can't contact anyone, can't do anything except wait for judgment.
She's in the main room when we enter, and the sight of her makes my hands curl into fists.
She looks smaller somehow, diminished without her designer clothes and sophisticated styling.
Her dark hair hangs limp around her shoulders, and her green eyes are red-rimmed from crying.
But when she sees us, fury replaces the despair.
"You," she spits, her gaze fixed on Eva. "This is all your fault. Everything I've lost, everything that's been destroyed, it's because of you."
Eva's hand tightens in mine, but her voice is steady when she responds. "No. This is because of your choices. Your betrayal and your greed."
I want to cross the room and make Irina pay for even looking at Eva with that hatred. But I force myself to remain still, to let Lev handle this. He deserves that much.
My sovietnik moves forward with controlled precision, his dark eyes flat and cold as they bore into Irina.
"Your art gallery burned to the ground last night," he says, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Total loss. And unfortunately, David discovered you'd let your insurance lapse. No payout. No compensation. Nothing."
Irina's face goes pale. "No. That's not… I paid the premiums. I know I did."
"There's no proof." Lev's tone barely hints at satisfaction.
That was part of our plan. Destroy her business so she'd have nothing and make sure she couldn't be compensated.
"But that's the least of your problems. Word has spread through the families about what you did.
About the betrayal. About your trying to murder a pregnant woman. "
I watch the implications sink in, see understanding dawn in her green eyes. In our world, there are lines you don't cross. Harming a Pakhan’s wife is one. Targeting an unborn heir is another. Irina crossed both, and now she's facing the consequences.
"Even your own father has disowned you," Lev continues, and I hear the satisfaction beneath his controlled exterior. "He wants nothing to do with a daughter who would stoop so low. No family will take you in. No one will hire you. You're persona non grata in every circle that matters."
Irina's legs give out, and she sinks to the floor, her hands covering her face. "Please," she sobs. "Please, Lev. I'm sorry. I made mistakes, but I can fix this. I can make it right."
"There's one more thing." Lev's voice drops lower, becomes almost gentle, which somehow makes it more terrifying.
"A hit has been ordered on your life. It goes active the moment you're seen talking to any law enforcement.
If you try to tell the cops anything about Roman, about the organization, about any of us, you're dead within the hour. "
The words hang in the air, heavy and final. Irina's sobs become hysterical, her body shaking with the weight of her destroyed life. I feel Eva press closer to my side, and my arm wraps around her waist protectively.
"Your life as you knew it is over," I say, my accent thick with cold satisfaction. "You'll leave this city. This state. You'll disappear and never come back. That's the mercy we're offering. Take it, or we'll let the hit proceed now."
Irina looks up at me, and the hatred in her expression is absolute. "I hope you rot in hell, Roman Sokolov. I hope everything you love turns to ash."
"Already tried that," Eva says quietly, her hand moving to her stomach. "Didn't work."
We leave Irina sobbing on the floor, her life in ruins, her future destroyed.
My guards will ensure she leaves the city by morning, that she disappears into whatever hole she can find.
And if she's stupid enough to try contacting the authorities, well, the hit will take care of that problem permanently.
The drive back to the estate passes in comfortable silence. Eva's head rests on my shoulder, and I feel the tension slowly draining from her body. When we finally arrive home, I guide her upstairs to the master bedroom, my hands already working the buttons of her dress.
"Roman," she breathes, her brown eyes dark with desire despite everything we've just witnessed. "I need you."
I strip away her clothes with controlled urgency, revealing the body I've memorized but can't stop craving. Her fuller breasts, the curve of her stomach, the way her hips flare beneath my hands. She's so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I lay her on the bed and worship her with my mouth and hands, tasting every inch of her skin, feeling her respond to my touch with gasps and moans that make my cock throb. When I finally enter her, it's slow and deliberate, our eyes locked, and I see everything I feel reflected back at me.
Love. Need. The terrifying vulnerability of letting someone see past the armor to the person beneath.
We move together with a rhythm that drags out our pleasure, and when Eva comes apart beneath me, my name on her lips, I follow her over the edge with a groan that sounds almost pained.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the sheets, both breathing hard. Eva's hand rests over my heart, and I cover it with mine, feeling the steady rhythm beneath our palms.
"It's really over," she whispers. "Abram's dead. Irina's destroyed. We're safe."
"We're safe," I agree, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Well, as safe as anyone in my business can be.