31 #2
While they waited, Roman decided to check up on some stocks he'd recently invested in.
The Russian Bratva was, for the most part, a traditional organization—from the men's mentality down to the way it made money.
Roman, however, liked to consider himself a fairly progressive man, and no one ever said he couldn't dip his toes in other methods of making a profit.
He was still absorbed in tracking a transaction he'd made that morning, when his wife sighed loudly, running low on patience already. “Why is this taking so long?”
“You in a hurry?” he asked, distracted, his thumb stroking the soft spot behind her ear.
She didn’t reply, but only managed to keep still for another minute or so.
“You know what, I'll just head inside and grab the drink straight from the counter.”
“You're not wearing shoes,” he said dryly. Remembering his earlier annoyance with her, he moved his eyes to her exposed thighs and his expression hardened. “And your dress is too short. You're not going outside like that.”
Alessandra looked like she wanted to argue. She thought better about it after taking a look at his face. “Let's go back home then. The queue is too slow, and I don't want to wait anymore.”
Roman stared at her and felt that annoyance quickly turn to irritation. He was in no mood to deal with her changing her mind like she changed clothes. “Park the car over there. I'll grab your fucking drink.”
She made a face at his swearing, though she started the engine and parked the car in the spot he’d indicated. Roman got out and slammed the door behind him, pissed that he had to go inside in nothing but a pair of gym shorts and sneakers.
To his relief, there was no one waiting in line at the cash register. The barista didn't even blink at his lack of shirt, taking his order and preparing the drink in less than three minutes. He left her a generous tip for being quick and exited the mostly empty coffee shop.
“Roman.”
The voice coming from behind him made him pause a few feet away from the Audi. He turned around and spotted the last person he expected to see in that part of the city. His eyes narrowed on his brother-in-law. “What are you doing here, Matteo?”
Matteo lifted the take-out bag in his hand. “I ran an errand for my father and stopped for food.”
Roman glanced at the Chinese restaurant that shared a parking lot with the coffee shop then back at him. “What errand?”
“I saw your father. You should ask him for the details, if you want to know so badly.”
Behind Roman, a car door opened then shut again. “Matty? What are you doing here?”
Alessandra rushed past him to hug her brother, her short dress riding up her thighs and nearly exposing her ass with the movement. Roman gave his head a slight shake and tried to rein in his temper.
“I think the better question is, what are you doing barefoot in a parking lot, Ale?” Matteo looked amused.
“Oh.” She glanced down at herself and laughed. “I got my car today and was excited about it, so I forgot about putting on shoes when I left the house.”
Her brother glanced behind her at the Audi. “Nice.”
She beamed up at him. “Yep.”
“Can I have a word alone with your husband? There's something I need to talk to him about.”
The smile melted from her face at being dismissed so abruptly. She looked between them with a small frown. “Uh, sure.” She hesitated for a second, but then she grabbed her drink from Roman and started for the car. “See you, Matty.”
Roman was just as surprised as his wife by the request for a private talk, though he didn't show it. Shoving his now empty hands into his shorts' pockets, he waited.
Matteo remained silent until Alessandra was inside the car with the door closed. “I'm pretty sure I saw one of Kasparov's men on my way to your father's house. He was leaving a bar a few blocks from here with another man I didn't recognize.”
Roman kept his expression blank, despite the sudden tension making his spine stiffen. “That's unlikely. As you know, we are not on good terms with the Armenians anymore. Whoever you thought you saw, he wasn't Davit's man.”
“I know what I saw.”
“Look, Matteo. You don't trust us, and believe me, the feeling is mutual. But you should learn to think before opening your mouth. What you're accusing us of is pretty damn serious. You really want to run to your father with this shit and risk a conflict for no reason?”
“Your perception of betrayal is pretty damn skewed, I see.”
Roman smiled coldly, even though he was burning on the inside. “Mind your words before you do something stupid.”
Matteo shifted his green eyes to the Audi as he seemed to consider something. “If everything goes to hell, I will come for my sister. I can promise you that.”
Roman could feel his blood starting to boil in his veins. “Is that a threat, Rossetti?”
“Take it however you want,” Matteo said. He looked back at Roman, and something about his expression made him frown. “You really care about her?”
Roman stifled a demented laugh, though he wasn’t amused in the least. What he felt for Alessandra had long since surpassed the realm of caring.
That fire he carried for her consumed him with its intensity, and he knew with utmost certainty that if anyone ever tried to separate them, he would end them on the spot. In-law or not, nobody got between them.
“She's my wife,” he said simply, keeping his voice level.
“You're a smart man, Roman. You know what will happen if your father crosses us, and it won't be pretty. That being said, I love my sister and I will do everything in my power to make sure she doesn't get caught in the crossfire.”
“Don't worry, Matteo, her safety is something we can both agree on.”
Matteo nodded and started to take his leave. He stopped to knock on the Audi’s passenger-side window and say a few parting words to his sister.
Still trying to process what he’d heard, Roman watched the prick’s departing form as he headed to his own car. His hands balled into fists inside his pockets.
Fucking Vitaly and his fucking plots that could rival a Hollywood movie.
One day, it was all going to bite him in the ass.
Roman just hoped that day didn’t come too soon.