Chapter 20 – Roman
We come back from the terrace like we stole the night. God, the way she moves—how she takes me—still hums through my bones. I hold her until the ache eases, then take her into the suite and into the rest of the night. We make love until the world outside fades to nothing but the sound of our bodies and the slow, hot surrender of two people who should not fit together and yet do.
Her voice repeats in my head, soft and dangerous: “Roman, I don’t care about the rules of the Bratva world anymore. I only care that you keep me safe.”
It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. It tastes like victory and threat all at once.
Now she sleeps beneath my hand, hair spilled across the pillow, lashes flat on cheeks that still flutter from the last of our heat. The trust in that sentence—a surrender she never meant to give—settles over me like armor. It demands something of me I can’t refuse.
Outside, the night is quiet; inside, my mind isn’t. David Chang’s men are regrouping. We’ve hit them a few times since they attacked my estate, and now he’s getting desperate and restless, while his buyers circle like vultures. Waiting is a luxury I don’t have. If I let him breathe, he’ll come at her again—at us—and I won’t forgive that.
I press a kiss to her forehead, slow and deliberate, tasting the salt of sleep on her skin. “I’ll protect you,” I tell her, and the words aren’t a promise so much as a verdict.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table and call the one person I know who has the flexibility for this kind of hunt: Dimitri. The rest of the brothers have families, schedules, kids,small lives to break for an impromptu strike. Dimitri moves like water—unpredictable, fast, and useful.
He picks up on the fourth ring. A low moan and the faint rustle of sheets leak through the line, then a woman’s soft laugh. “Roman. What’s—” he says, half amusement, half apology.
“What are you doing?” I cut straight to it.
“What do you think?” he answers, voice still groggy with sleep and distraction.
“David Chang’s men are active in New York. I have a lead from my man, Oleg. They’ve moved operations to Texas. I leave in twenty-four hours. I’m shutting him down.” My tone leaves no room for debate.
There’s a beat of silence, then his voice sharpens. “Say that again.”
I repeat it, slower. He swears softly. “Damn. Do you have enough time to plan this?”
“I’ve been planning this forever, honestly. I’m ready. I don’t want to wait around anymore.”
He chuckles. “I’m in. Fuck. Not like I have anything else to do. Have you told the boys?”
“No.”
“You gotta tell them.”
“I will.”
“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t call me back—I’m having fun.” The line clicks.
I drop the phone on the nightstand and glance at Elara. She’s still asleep, her face soft, peaceful. For a moment, the noise in my head quiets. I should be in my office with Luka right now—mapping routes, checking logistics, ensuring our men are armed and ready to move in twenty-four hours. But I can’t bring myself to leave her. Not tonight.
She stirs, turning toward me, murmuring something incoherent before pressing her cheek against my chest. The faintscent of her shampoo lingers in the air—sweet, grounding. My arm tightens around her automatically.
“Roman?” she whispers after a few seconds, voice heavy with sleep.
“Hmm?” I kiss her forehead, and her lashes flutter open.
“You’re still awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Is everything okay?”
“When you’re with me, yes.”
Her lips curve into a lazy smile. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.”
