Chapter 18 Roman
ROMAN
The office is silent except for the hum of the city forty-two floors below.
I lean back in my leather chair, vodka glass in hand, reviewing the financial reports spread across my desk.
The numbers blur together after hours of analysis, but the pattern is clear.
Abram Yakovlev is systematically destroying everything I've built, and I still can't prove it.
I drain the vodka, feeling the burn settle in my chest, and pour another. The forty-second floor is empty at this hour, just me and the ghosts of failed strategies. My security team is positioned throughout the building, but up here, it's just silence and the weight of an empire crumbling.
The elevator chimes.
My hand moves instinctively toward the gun in the back of my waistband. No one should be here. My security would have called if someone were coming up. I'm on my feet, weapon drawn, when the doors slide open.
Eva storms out, and I freeze.
She's magnificent in her fury. Her blonde hair is coming loose from its usual sleek bun, strands falling around her flushed face.
Her brown eyes blaze with an anger I've never seen from her before, and her chest heaves with rapid breaths that make her breasts strain against her blouse.
The professional armor she wears so carefully has shattered completely, and I'm seeing the passionate woman beneath for the first time.
"You son of a bitch!" Her voice cracks like a whip across the empty floor.
I lower the gun, putting it securely in my waistband. "Eva. What are you—"
"Don't." She holds up a hand, her whole body trembling with rage. "Don't you dare act like you don't know what happened."
She doesn't knock, doesn't wait for permission. She bursts into my office, and I find myself backing up slightly, genuinely shocked by the force of her anger. Eva has always been composed, controlled, even when she's afraid. This raw fury is something else entirely.
"Your security guard tackled Tyler to the ground outside my apartment." Her voice shakes. "Tyler, who was just bringing me flowers. Tyler, who's innocent and sweet and did nothing wrong except exist near me."
Fuck. I knew my men were following her, knew they had orders to assess any potential threats. But I didn't authorize violence against some lovesick boy with flowers.
"My men were doing their job," I say, keeping my voice low and controlled. "Any unknown male approaching you is a potential threat. They were protecting you."
"Protecting me?" Eva's laugh is bitter, almost hysterical. "You're terrorizing people in my life! You've turned your protection into a prison. You've made me complicit in your violence, and I'm done. I'm fucking done with all of it."
She moves closer, and I catch the scent of her perfume, that light floral scent that clings so lovingly to her.
Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted with rapid breathing, and despite her fury, despite everything, my body responds.
My cock hardens as I watch her chest rise and fall, as I imagine ripping that blouse open and touching and tasting her.
"You don't understand how dangerous my world is," I tell her, my accent thickening with the effort of maintaining control. "The threats that circle us constantly. My men can't take chances with your safety."
"I understand perfectly." Eva's brown eyes bore into mine. "I understand that you're a criminal. A violent man who does violent things. I've known it since I saw blood on your cuff. I've been living with that knowledge, drowning in it, trying to convince myself that I can survive in your world."
She takes another step closer, and now we're barely a foot apart. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, can see the pulse hammering at her throat. She's afraid, but she's not backing down. That steel spine that first attracted me is on full display.
"But this?" Her voice drops lower, becomes almost dangerous. "Attacking innocent people? Making everyone in my life a target just because they care about me? What gives you the right?"
"What gives me the right?" The question ignites something dark and possessive in my chest. I close the remaining distance between us, crowding into her space, forcing her to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.
"You gave me the right, Eva. The moment you walked into my office, the moment you let me touch you, the moment you agreed to work for me despite knowing what I am. "
Her breath catches, and I watch her pupils dilate. Fear, yes. But also desire. The same hunger that's been consuming me since the first time I kissed her.
"You don't own me, Roman. You don't get to control every aspect of my life just because we—"
"Because we what?" I lean closer, my mouth inches from hers. "Because I've had you bent over my desk? Because you've screamed my name while I was inside you? Say it, Eva. Finish the sentence."
Her hands come up, pressing against my chest. For a moment I think she's going to push me away, but her fingers curl into my shirt instead, gripping the fabric. "You're impossible."
"I'm necessary." My hand slides up her arm, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "You need my protection, whether you want to admit it or not. And you need this." I cup her face, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "You need me as much as I need you, and it terrifies you."
"I hate you." But even as she says it, her body betrays her. She leans into my touch, her lips parting slightly beneath my thumb.
"No, you don't." I let my gaze drop to her mouth, then lower, to where her blouse has come partially untucked from her skirt.
I imagine ripping it open, watching buttons scatter across my office floor.
I imagine cupping her breasts, feeling their weight in my palms, making her gasp.
"You hate that you want me. You hate that I make you feel things you can't control. "
I stare into her eyes. "But you don't hate me."
Eva shoves me, hard. I let her push me back a step, surprised by the force of it. "Don't tell me what I feel."
"I know you're attracted to me." I reach out, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I know you think about me as you remember how I felt inside you, how I made you come apart."
Eva's composure shatters completely. She shoves me again, harder this time, her hands against my chest. "You arrogant bastard! You think you can just—"
I capture her wrists, pulling her against me. She struggles, fury and desire warring in her expression, and fuck, she's beautiful like this. Wild and uncontrolled, all that careful professionalism stripped away to reveal the passionate woman beneath.
Eva makes a sound that's half sob, half moan. "I hate you," she whispers again, but this time, there's no conviction in it.
"Prove it." I release her wrists, giving her the choice. "Walk away. Leave my office. Go back to your apartment and your normal life. I won't stop you."
For a long moment, we stand frozen, her brown eyes searching mine. I can see her weighing her options, calculating the cost of staying versus leaving. The air between us crackles with electricity, with weeks of suppressed desire and anger and fear.
Then Eva pulls me down into a desperate kiss.
Her mouth crashes against mine with bruising force, all teeth and tongue and hunger. I groan into her kiss, my hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her flush against me. She can feel how hard I am, how much I want her, and she grinds against me with a moan that goes straight to my cock.
"Fuck," I mutter against her lips, my accent thick. "Eva—"
"Shut up." She bites my lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Just shut up and touch me."
I don't need to be told twice. My hands slide up her sides, feeling the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. I cup them through her blouse, and she arches into my touch with a gasp. Her nipples are hard beneath the fabric, begging to be touched.
Eva's hands are everywhere, pulling at my shirt, fumbling with my belt. There's nothing gentle about this, nothing tender. This is anger and desire and desperation all tangled together, two people who should stay apart but can't seem to stop touching each other.
I spin her around, pressing her against my desk. Papers scatter to the floor, but neither of us cares. My hands slide up her thighs beneath her skirt, and I discover she's wearing stockings. The feel of the silk against my palms makes me groan.
"Roman." My name on her lips is half plea, half demand.
I push her skirt up to her waist, revealing black lace panties that make my mouth water. I can see the damp spot on the fabric, evidence of how much she wants this despite her protests. My fingers hook into the waistband, and I pull them down slowly, watching them slide down her legs.
Eva kicks them aside and spreads her legs slightly, bracing herself against the desk. The sight of her like this, bent over my desk, ready for me, nearly undoes my control.
"Tell me you want this," I demand, my voice rough. "Tell me you want me."
She looks back over her shoulder, her brown eyes dark with desire. "I want you. God help me, I want you."
That's all the permission I need. I free myself from my pants, positioning myself at her entrance. She's so wet, so ready, and when I push inside her, we both groan at the sensation. She feels incredible, tight and hot and perfect.
I start moving, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. Eva pushes back against me, meeting each thrust, her moans filling my office. This isn't gentle lovemaking. This is claiming, possessing, two people channeling fury and fear and impossible desire into each other's bodies.
"Harder," Eva gasps, and I oblige, pounding into her with enough force to make the desk shake. My hand slides around to find her clit, and Eva cries out, her inner walls clenching around me. "Roman, I'm—"
"Come for me," I command, my accent thick. "Let me feel you."
She shatters with a scream, her body convulsing around me, and the sensation triggers my own release. I bury myself deep inside her, groaning her name as I come harder than I can remember.
We stay frozen like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, our bodies still joined. Before I can catch my breath, the elevator chimes. My head snaps up. No one should be here at this hour.
I pull away from Eva to move to a position to see the elevator better, when shots suddenly ring out and bullets start flying.