Chapter 14 – Roman
The car ride is silent.
Elara sits beside me in the backseat, dressed like sin disguised as royalty in red and black silk, the colors clinging to her in all the right places. As petite as she is, she’s got curves that test every ounce of restraint I’ve got left.
And right now, I’m losing.
I force myself to look out the tinted window, but my gaze drifts back to her again. The curve of her throat. The way her fingers toy with her clutch. The soft rise and fall of her chest. I can smell her perfume—something floral, something dangerous—and it’s driving me insane.
We’ve been married for almost a week, and I haven’t touched her since that night. Every day it gets harder to stay away. Every night, when she sleeps beside me, I’m one breath away from losing control.
But I’m waiting.
I need her trust before I take her again. I want her to come to me, not fight me. I don’t want to break her. Not this time.
“Stop staring,” she snaps suddenly, catching my gaze in the glass reflection.
I don’t even bother pretending. “Why? You’re my wife.”
She rolls her eyes and looks away, muttering something under her breath. Her hand shifts to her wristwatch, and she murmurs something under her breath before leaning against the seat.
She’s excited today. It’s the first time she’s been allowed to leave the mansion since the wedding, and she’s trying hard not to show it.
We’re headed to Sasha and Lev’s estate, where the family’s arranged a small “celebration” for our marriage. It’s supposed to make the union look legitimate in the eyes of everyone who matters.
I can already picture the smug looks on my brothers’ faces.
Elara straightens her posture, brushing invisible lint off her dress. She looks radiant, defiant, proud, like she’s daring anyone to pity her.
And damn if that doesn’t make me want her more.
I take a slow breath and adjust my cufflinks, grounding myself in the routine. Family politics. Appearances. Business. That’s what today is about.
Not her lips.
Not the way her perfume makes my thoughts dark.
Not how she looks like every man’s temptation and every sinner’s undoing.
But when she turns her face toward the window, light spilling across her cheekbones, I know I’m already lying to myself.
The estate is alive with noise and sunlight when we arrive. Children dart across the garden chasing bubbles, the smell of grilled meat mixes with laughter, and somewhere in the distance, a piano hums beneath all the chaos.
Niko, Lev, Adrian, and Kaz are already there when we arrive, each of them with their wives. Lev and Sasha greet us first—him with a grin, her with a warm hug that somehow manages to look both genuine and assessing.
Elara blooms under the attention and handles it with a quiet poise that infuriates and fascinates me all at once.
Then Violet swoops in—Kaz’s wife, wild and bright as a firecracker—and slips her arm through Elara’s. “Come on, beautiful. I’ve heard so much about you. Let me show you the real reason I come to these parties. The food.”
“Vi!” Jennie groans, rolling her eyes as Violet tugs Elara along. “Introduce her to the others first. Not food!”
Elara actually laughs, soft and real, the first time I’ve heard that sound in days.
Noelle, Niko’s wife, joins them, and just like that, my wife is gone—spirited away to the other side of the garden, surrounded by women who don’t know she hates me.
Or maybe they do. Maybe she’ll tell them. The thought makes my brows dip.
I watch her as they lead her toward the laughter, her dress catching the sun. She smiles at something Violet says. She bends down to greet one of the kids. She looks…free.
Why can’t she be like this with me?
My jaw tightens.
A heavy hand claps my shoulder. “Stop glaring before you scare the women, brother,” Niko says, grinning like a devil.
Adrian presses a glass of vodka into my hand. “To the happy groom,” he teases.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, but I still take the shot.
They laugh, clinking glasses, dragging me toward the long table under the awning. Lev is already seated, chugging down alcohol, eyes sharp even when he’s pretending to relax.
“So,” Kaz starts, pouring me another drink, “how’s married life treating you?”
I glance back at Elara before answering. She’s laughing again, her hair catching the light, her cheeks flushed from the sun. She looks like she belongs there, like she’s been one of us her whole life.
“Complicated,” I finally say.
Lev chuckles. “That’s one word for it.”
They all exchange knowing looks, but none of them push further. Not yet.
Still, I can feel the weight of their stares. My brothers are predators, every one of them—trained to notice weakness, shifts in tone, the smallest change in demeanor. They see the way I look at her.
They know I’m already in too deep.
I down the second shot and set the glass aside, eyes still tracking Elara across the garden as she reaches for a glass of lemonade.
She catches me watching her. For a heartbeat, she holds my gaze across the sea of people, and then she looks away, pretending she didn’t see me. And damn it, that small act of defiance makes me want her all over again.
“What’s up, people?”
At the familiar voice, we all look up to see Dimitri stroll in, arms spread wide, blond hair perfectly styled like he just stepped out of a fashion magazine cover. He’s grinning from ear to ear, a picture of charm and trouble.
Kaz groans. “Oh, look who decided to grace us with his royal presence.”
Dimitri clutches his chest dramatically. “What’s that supposed to mean? You thought I wasn’t coming?”
Lev snorts. “Of course we did. You’re never around when there’s family stuff. You’re always too busy with one woman or another.”
Dimitri throws his head back and laughs. “Guilty! But come on, Lev, would you rather I bring one woman or a few? I hate showing up empty-handed.”
Niko shakes his head. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly handsome,” Dimitri corrects, sliding into the seat beside me. Kaz passes him a glass of vodka without a word. Dimitri raises it in salute. “As long as I’m in town, I swear, I’ll show up for every family gathering. That’s a promise.”
He pauses, looks around the table, and frowns. “Wait…should I have brought a date? Everyone here’s got a date.”
Adrian rolls his eyes. “They’re not our dates, Dimitri. They’re our wives.”
Dimitri freezes, then grins, slow and mischievous. “Right. Wives.” He raises his glass again. “May the Lord have mercy on your poor, shackled souls.”
Everyone bursts into laughter. Even I crack a faint smile, despite my foul mood.
“You keep laughing,” Adrian says, shaking his head, “but one day you’ll find someone who ties you down too.”
“Unlikely,” Dimitri says, stretching back in his chair. “I prefer my freedom—and my women temporary.”
Kaz smirks. “Until one of them makes you forget your name.”
“Not possible,” Dimitri fires back smoothly. “I have it engraved on my cufflinks.”
The laughter dies down, and Dimitri turns to me, eyes glinting. “So…where’s the woman who finally tamed the beast? The one who dragged Roman Rusnak into holy matrimony?”
“Weren’t you at the wedding?” Niko rolls his eyes.
“For like one second,” I answer with a huff. “He left with a woman.”
Dimitri slants me a glance. “Roman, come on,” he laughs.
Lev gestures across the garden. “That’s Elara over there—with the women.”
Dimitri turns, following his gaze—and when he spots Elara, something in his expression shifts. She’s laughing softly with Jennie and Violet, the sun catching in her hair.
He lets out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s her?”
My jaw tightens. “Watch your mouth.”
He grins without looking at me. “Relax, brother. I’m just saying—she’s gorgeous. Strong eyes. Doesn’t look like the submissive type.” He sips his drink, eyes still on her. “You married a storm, Roman.”
“You should feel sorry for him,” Kaz mutters. “He’s been acting like he hasn’t slept since the wedding.”
That earns another round of laughter.
“You know,” Dimitri says, pushing his chair back with a lazy grin, “I haven’t been formally introduced to all the women.” He stands, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. “I’ll do that now.”
He winks at us and saunters off toward their corner, the confident bastard.
Kaz takes a slow sip of his drink. “They’re going to love him,” he mutters, shaking his head. “That fucking bastard.”
The others chuckle, pretending not to care—but every single one of us is watching. Dimitri moves like he owns the place, all easy charm and that damn smirk that’s gotten him out of more trouble than it should.
And then Elara looks up.
Her eyes catch his, and she smiles. It’s soft, polite, radiant.
My pulse spikes.
I trust Dimitri with my life. I’ve fought beside him, bled beside him, and buried bodies beside him in the past. But right now, as I watch her smile at him like that, something in me twists sharp and ugly.
Why can’t she fucking smile at me like that?
That warmth. That ease. That light that never seems to show when it’s just us.
She tilts her head, says something that makes Dimitri laugh, and my hand tightens around my glass until my knuckles ache.
Lev glances at me, smirking like he can smell the jealousy. “Easy, brother,” he says quietly. “He’s just saying hello.”
But I barely hear him. My jaw’s set, eyes locked on Elara.
If Dimitri makes her laugh again, I swear—
The day passes in a blur; thankfully, I don’t have to tell Dimitri off, mostly because Elara keeps my attention entirely.
I watch her move through the crowd, laughing with Sasha, teasing Violet, and even quietly engaging with the kids.
She looks…at home. Not a captive. Not a pawn.
But part of this world. Part of my world.
And damn it, it pleases me more than it should. I hate how much it pleases me.
I hate that a part of me wants to see her live in this space without fear, with me beside her. That I’d love to have her reign here like she belongs, like she’s mine in every sense that matters, even if she doesn’t bend to me yet.
I clench my jaw. Hate. Pleasure. Desire. It’s a mess I can’t untangle.
Her laughter cuts through the noise again, and I realize, maybe the only war I can’t control isn’t outside these walls, but in the way I want her anyway. But the evening doesn’t end peacefully. I should have known that in our world, peace is a luxury.
Just before we all gather for dinner, Dimitri slides into the chair beside me.
“What?” I snap.
“Relax,” he says with that infuriatingly calm smile, slipping a folded note across the table.
I snatch it up and scan the contents. My jaw tightens instantly. One of David Chang’s men has been seen circling Manhattan, asking questions about Elara.
“I know how she ended up as your wife,” Dimitri continues, leaning back casually. “And now it’s time to protect what’s yours.”
“How did you find out about this?” I demand, voice low and dangerous.
“Let’s just say I always have ears in the strangest places. You know that. And David…he won’t rest until he gets her back.”
I feel the cold edge of anger cut through me. My pulse quickens, thoughts colliding—not a scandal. Not her. Not now.
Dimitri shrugs. “It’s only a matter of time before Chang spins this as a kidnapping. Public scandal. Media frenzy. Buyers sniffing around. Your life just got a lot more complicated, Roman.”
I rise from the table, fists clenching. My mind races. I’ve waited, restrained myself, letting her defenses hold. But now? Now there’s no patience left.
I push away from the table and storm toward the garden where the women are gathered. Their laughter dies when they see me coming.
“Elara.” My voice cuts through the hum of conversation. “A word.”
She hesitates, glancing at her new friends before forcing a polite smile and standing. “Excuse me.”
I turn on my heel, and she follows, heels clicking against marble as I lead her inside, through the winding hallways, up the stairs, and into one of the empty bedrooms. The moment the door shuts behind us, she folds her arms.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demands. “You’re ruining the party for no reason.”
I whirl to face her, anger and fear mixing in my chest like poison. “Enough of your attitude, Elara.” My tone comes out as sharp as I intend. “I’m going to ask some questions, and you’re going to answer me honestly.”
Her brows knit. “Roman, what—”
“I said honestly,” I snap, stepping closer, my voice low and edged. “No games. No lies.”
Her chin lifts, defiant, but there’s a flicker of something—nervousness, maybe curiosity—in her eyes.
“What’s this about?” she says quietly.
“Your father,” I answer. “David Chang.”
“I don’t—I—”
I step closer, letting the weight of my presence press against her. “Elara,” I say, my voice low, almost a growl, “tell me everything you know about your father’s operations. Now.”
Her eyes widen, panic flashing across her face. “I… I—I don’t know anything else,” she stammers, voice trembling. “Just…the paintings. And the foreign buyers…it was how…how he repaid his debts.”
Her words strike me like a dagger. David Chang, her father, reduced to pawns and transactions, crawling through his deals to save face and money. My chest tightens, possessiveness sparking like wildfire.
I can feel it—every fiber of me wanting to guard her, to claim her, to make sure no one touches her. Not her father. Not his men. Not anyone. She’s mine.
“I won’t let him take you,” I say, my voice low but firm, a vow carved straight from my chest. “Not your father. Not anyone. Ever.”
Something shifts in her expression, like a wall cracking. The defiance in her eyes softens, just for a heartbeat, and for the first time, I see belief flicker there. She believes me.
And then—before I can even breathe—she moves closer. Her hand trembles as it reaches for me, fingers grazing my jaw.
“Elara…” I start, but the rest dies in my throat when she rises on her toes and presses her mouth to mine.
It’s soft at first. Hesitant. But then the spark catches, and I lose myself in it.
My hand slides to her waist, pulling her against me. The taste of her, the feel of her, it’s everything I’ve been fighting, everything I’ve wanted to destroy and protect in the same breath.
For the first time, she kissed me not out of fear, not out of defiance.
She kissed me because she wanted to.