I dictate correspondence for twenty minutes, watching her neat handwriting capture my words. I prefer this method sometimes. Digital files can be hacked, traced, used against me. But Eva's handwriting is hers alone, and there's something intimate about watching her record my thoughts.
When I finish, she doesn't immediately leave. Instead, she sets down her pen and meets my gaze directly.
"I need to tell you something," she says, her voice steady despite the fear I can see flickering in her eyes.
"Go on."
"Last night, I received a call. From the company that holds my mother's medical debt." She pauses, her hands folding in her lap. "They offered to reduce the debt significantly. Forgive most of it, actually. But only if I provide them with a small favor."
My jaw tightens. "What kind of favor?"
"They didn't specify. Just said they'd be in touch with details." Her brown eyes search mine. "It's the company you told me about. The one connected to Abram Yakovlev."
Fuck. Abram is circling closer, using Eva's vulnerability to manipulate her, to create leverage against me. My hands clench on the armrests of my chair, rage flooding my veins. I want to wage war against his entire organization, to destroy everyone involved in that predatory lending scheme, to make them pay for targeting what's mine.
"You'll refuse," I say, my voice hard. "Whatever they ask, the answer is no."
"I know." She straightens her spine, that stubborn pride surfacing. "But I have a different idea."
I raise an eyebrow, waiting.
"Let me work with them," Eva says, her words coming faster now. "Pretend to cooperate. Gather evidence about how the scheme operates, who's involved, how they trap families. Then we can dismantle it from the inside. Free not just me, but the hundreds of immigrant families caught in the same cycle."
"Absolutely not." The refusal is immediate, instinctive. "It's too dangerous. It puts you directly in Abram's crosshairs."
"I'm already in his crosshairs!" Her voice rises slightly, passion breaking through her careful control. "He knows about me. He's using my debt to manipulate me. At least this way, I'm fighting back instead of just being protected."
"No." I stand, moving around my desk. "You don't understand what you're asking. These are dangerous men, Eva. They don't play games. If they suspect you're gathering evidence?—"
"Then I'll be careful." She stands too, meeting my approach without retreating. "These are my people, Roman. Immigrant families being exploited, destroyed by debt they can never escape. I can help them. I can make a difference."
"By putting yourself at risk?" My hands grip her shoulders, perhaps harder than I intend. "By walking into a trap? You're carrying my child, Eva. I won't allow it."
Her brown eyes flash with anger. "You won't allow it? I'm not asking your permission. I'm telling you what I'm going to do."
"The fuck you are." My accent thickens with frustration.
We're standing too close, the air between us crackling with tension that's equal parts anger and desire. I can smell her perfume, see the pulse fluttering at her throat, notice how herchest rises and falls with rapid breaths that make her breasts strain against her dress. My cock hardens despite my fury, my body responding to her proximity with embarrassing eagerness.
"You're impossible," I growl.
"So are you."
We're still glaring at each other, neither willing to back down, when my office door opens without knocking.
David Brennan stands in the doorway, his usual composure cracked by urgency. He's holding a folder, his expression grim behind his titanium-framed glasses.
"We have a serious problem," he says, his voice tight. "The Chinese just hit one of our gambling operations. Three men dead, all killed execution-style with weapons traced back to our armory. They think we're breaking the alliance."
25
EVA
The forty-second floor is dark except for the pool of light spilling from Roman's office. I step off the elevator, my heels clicking against the marble with a finality that makes my stomach clench. Through the glass wall, I see him at his desk, sleeves rolled up to reveal those prison tattoos that used to terrify me. Now they're just part of who he is. Part of the monster I'm about to bind myself to.
He looks up when I enter, his blue eyes unreadable in the lamplight. I force myself to meet his gaze without flinching, my spine straight, my hands steady despite the trembling in my chest.
"Eva." His voice is low, that accent wrapping around my name in a way that still makes my skin prickle with awareness. "I didn't expect you tonight."
