"Your life depends on your silence," he continues, his accent thicker than usual. "Not because I would hurt you. I wouldn't, I swear to you, I wouldn't. But because there are people who would use this information to destroy everything. People who would hurt you to get to me. You saw nothing tonight. You were never here. This never happened."
"But it did happen," I whisper, my voice cracking. "You killed someone. Right in front of me."
Something flickers in his expression—regret, maybe, or pain. "He came here to kill me, Eva. To kill us both. I did what was necessary to protect you."
The words should comfort me, but they don't. Because I'm realizing with horrible clarity that this is Roman's world. Violence and death and bodies wrapped in plastic. Cleaners who erase evidence without blinking an eye. A man who can kill without hesitation and then hold me like I'm precious in the same breath.
And I'm trapped in it now. Complicit by proximity. A witness who can never speak.
Lev approaches, his expression carefully neutral. "We need to get her home. The longer she's here, the more complicated this becomes."
Roman nods, standing and pulling me to my feet. My legs are shaking so badly I can barely stand, and he keeps one arm around my waist, supporting my weight. He helps me button myblouse with steady hands, his touch impersonal now, clinical. Like I'm a problem to be managed rather than a woman he was inside less than an hour ago.
The thought makes bile rise in my throat.
One of Roman's security guards brings my purse and coat. Roman helps me into the coat like I'm a child, his movements gentle despite the violence I just witnessed him capable of.
The ride down in the elevator is suffocating. Roman stands close, his hand on the small of my back, and I can't stop staring at his other hand. The one that held the gun. The one that killed a man with three precise shots. Those same fingers were inside me earlier, making me gasp and moan. The contrast makes my stomach turn.
The SUV is waiting at the curb, engine running. Roman helps me into the back seat, then slides in beside me. The driver pulls away from the building immediately, and I watch through the tinted windows as the gleaming glass tower disappears behind us. From the outside, it looks exactly the same. No evidence of the violence that just occurred on the forty-second floor. No sign that a man died there tonight.
Roman doesn't touch me during the drive, but I feel his attention like a physical weight. He's watching me, assessing, probably calculating whether I'm going to break, whether I'm going to run to the police the moment I'm alone.
I won't. Not because I'm loyal to him, but because I'm terrified. Terrified of what he is. Terrified of what he's capable of. Terrified of the men who can make bodies disappear and the infrastructure that supports it all.
When we finally pull up outside my building, Roman walks me to the door. His hand is gentle on my elbow, his voice low as he reminds me one more time, "You were never at the office tonight. You went straight home after work. You saw nothing."
I nod, unable to meet his eyes. Unable to reconcile the man who just gave me the best sex of my life with the man who killed someone without hesitation.
"Eva." He cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "I'm sorry you had to see that. But I would do it again to keep you safe. Do you understand?"
I don't answer. I just pull away and walk into my building, my legs barely supporting my weight as I climb the six flights to my apartment. Each step feels like moving through water, my body heavy with shock and fear and the weight of what I've witnessed.
I'm fumbling with my keys when I hear voices inside the apartment. Megan's voice, high and angry. And Tyler's, lower, trying to calm her down.
My stomach drops.
I push open the door to find them both in the living room. Megan is pacing, her usual sunshine completely eclipsed by fury. Tyler sits on the couch, and my breath catches when I see his face. His left eye is swollen and bruised, his lip split, his wire-rimmed glasses sitting crookedly on his nose.
They both turn when I enter. Megan's brown eyes are blazing with an anger I've never seen directed at me before.
"What the hell is going on with your boss?" Her voice cracks with emotion. "Why did his people attack Tyler?"
20
ROMAN
The city spreads below my office windows like a kingdom I'm watching slip through my fingers. A month since the shooting, and I'm no closer to proving what I already know in my bones. Abram Yakovlev is systematically destroying everything I've built.
I drain my vodka, neat, and pour another. The burn does nothing to ease the cold fury that's been building since that night. The attack was professional, precise, designed to send a message. Abram's signature is all over it, but like everything else he's orchestrated, there's no proof. No trail. Nothing I can use to justify retaliation without triggering the war he wants.
My phone buzzes. Lev, confirming Abram has agreed to the meeting. The bastard is coming here, to my office, because refusing would show weakness. I summoned him like the subordinate he should be, and he has no choice but to comply with the pretense of respect between Pakhans.
Through the glass wall, I watch Eva at her desk. She's wearing a cream-colored blouse today, the fabric stretching across herbreasts in a way that makes my hands itch to touch her. Her blonde hair is pulled back in that sleek bun I want to destroy, and even from here I can see the tension in her shoulders. She's been different since the shooting. Quieter. More careful. The fear in her brown eyes when she thinks I'm not looking cuts deeper than any blade.
I've tried to give her space, tried to let her process what she witnessed. But fuck, I miss her. Miss the way she used to look at me before she saw me kill a man. Miss the heat between us that made everything else fade away.
The elevator chimes, and I force my attention away from Eva. Abram Yakovlev steps onto the forty-second floor, and the temperature seems to drop ten degrees.
