"Who, Roman?"
"No, the guy on the TikTok video who smashes fifteen cantaloupes with his forehead in eleven seconds," he says. "Yes, Roman. Has he told you about all the guys he's been sending down here?"
"What?" I gasp, heading down the stairs. "What guys? What are you talking about?"
"You didn't know?" He sounds pissy and exasperated. "There's been a flood of guys with tattoos and suspicious bulges in their jackets, stopping by the shelter every day. Sometimes, they bring wives and girlfriends. I've had ten extra people on the volunteer roster every day and they sign up on their own."
I should be unhappy with Roman's high-handedness, he should have discussed it with me. Instead, a huge, stupid grin spreads across my face. "Really? Well, are they helping?"
There's a short silence. "Yes," Larry says reluctantly. "The kids love them. Because there's nothing more fucking hilarious than hearing a guy with a thick Russian accent trying to correct an eight-year-old's grammar during reading time."
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try not to laugh. It will just infuriate poor Larry. "So, you're not completely displeased."
"No…" Larry draws it out.
"How are the new security guards working out?" I ask. Roman was kind enough to help me hire a couple of people for a suspiciously low salary.
He sighs, a deep one, the sound of a man who has long suffered with no relief. "Violet honey, they're the same guys, oh, and one girl who's scarier than the rest of them. Your boyfriend has just been sending more of his people to patrol around the place, day, and night. Though on the bright side, even the dealers won't hang around on the block any more. I almost shit myself last night when I came out and there was a giant Russian smoking next to my car." There's a short silence. "Actually, he was kind of hot."
"So, it sounds like your love life is taking a potential turn for the better and you're still pissed at me."
"Iam,"he says. "You're not getting off that easy. I am still mad at you because I don't know what the hell is going on. You keep me out of the loop except for shelter issues and I don't know if you're safe. I don't know if things are getting better or worse!"
"I'm so sorry, Larry." And I am. No one knows how to twist the excruciating screws of guilt like my best friend. "Let's start meeting more. We can have a staff meeting on Thursday. I'll ask Roman to find a place for us and he'll send cars to pick everybody up. The Morozovs own a lot of clubs and restaurants, it seems. Then, you and I can have a drink after, we'll talk."
"That's a good idea," he sounds moderately more cheerful. "Get him to find a place with really tasty food. Nothing says 'team spirit' like a Mediterranean tapas buffet. An open bar wouldn't hurt."
I can hear someone open the office door, relaying a message to Larry. "I've got to go," he says. "Aliska is making lambpelmenisfor cooking class with the kids. I don't want to miss them because last time, those little shits finished off the entire batch before I could make it to the kitchen.".
I hang up with the inevitable headache spreading up my neck again, that constant feeling of having only solved the immediate problem. It's like digging out a pothole when there's an avalanche still looming above me. The virtual lessons I've been doing with the kids aren't enough, and even with the additional volunteers, it's not fair to expect the rest of my staff to be keeping this going without me on site. Roman must let me go back to work. It's not like the place isn't crawling with his people anyway.
Roman is in his study and he looks up with a grin as I knock and open the door. "Perfect," he purrs, looking me up and down. I'm hardly sexy in shorts and a tank top, but Roman is a man who seems unappreciative of pretty much anything I wear, since he usually has it off me within seconds. "Why don't you come over here and sit on my lap? Tell me all your worries and I'll makethem go away." Leaning back in his chair, he spreads his arms with his devil's grin.
Glancing pointedly down at the promising swelling in his pants, I keep my distance. "You're not Santa Claus and I don't want a pony for Christmas," I say, folding my arms. "While it's not that I don't appreciate the help, I understand you've been staffing my shelter with volunteers every day."
He folds his hands on the desk, attempting to look innocent. "You need volunteers. The kids need help. I need the place better guarded. This seems like a win/win."
Somehow, I'm already next to him as he pulls me onto his lap. "You didn't ask me, Roman," I say. trying to focus. "I'm appreciative. Poor Larry has been –"
"'Poor Larry' is dating one of my guards," Roman interrupts.
"Of course he is," I sigh, remembering Larry's comment earlier. "That little slut!"
"I think I've solved most of your problems," Roman says, arms tightening around me. "Is there anything else before I put you on my desk and eat you out?"
His body is hard with muscle, wrapped around me, impenetrable. A couple of buttons are open on his dress shirt, and I can see the red eyes of his dragon tattoo winking at me through his open collar. The warmth of him, the sheer, shameless masculinity is overwhelming sometimes. I'm dying to ask him if this is something more than protection. Roman's no saint. He'd run through my measly $100,000 in a day.
But here he is, protecting me and my sisters, lavishing every manner of luxury on us, flooding my shelter with volunteers, and protecting the kids.
It can't be for the money.
My mouth is open, building up the courage to ask him when there's another knock on the door.
"Boss, it's Ivan." Roman tries to keep me on his lap, but I wiggle myself loose, hastily getting to my feet and pulling my shirt down.
"Come in," Roman says with a growl. Ivan's accompanied by Vadik, who's the head of the girl's protection team. Vadik looks like he's trying not to smile.
"We have something we must discuss with you," Ivan says, "It's Rose and Iris. They've been busy with… unsanctioned activity."
