Page 30 of Roman

CHAPTER 8

EFFIE

Iwoke up again, and it was early evening. I wondered if I had slept as much the entire past year as I had the last couple of days. I got up, pleased when my body didn’t scream as loudly in protest at being moved. After using the bathroom, I shuffled down the hall and into Roman’s office. He wasn’t there, but I heard his voice in the hall talking to someone. I looked around the large space. His desk was dark wood, heavy and solid. The shelves that lined one wall matched. The sofa and chairs in the corner were covered in a deep russet leather. His chair and the ones in front of his desk were black. A small table had chairs tucked under it, and I assumed he used that if he was eating a meal in here. I approached his desk. Piles of paperwork, a thermos of coffee, and a glass of amber liquid sat on top of the dark wood. On top of the paperwork were a pair of tortoiseshell frames. But what caught my attention was the wall of windows behind his desk. I walked over, staring at the Falls. They were, as usual, majestic. Riveting. The colors changing every second. Blues, greens, grays, whites. Swirling and rushing, the power of them enormous. Even growing up here, I never tired of them. I loved them in all seasons. Fall was my favorite with the colors of the trees against the backdrop of the rocks and water. Winter was incredible with the ice and mist that hung in the air. I tended to avoid them during the height of tourist season, but up here, that didn’t matter. You couldn’t hear the voices, the cars, or the constant click of cameras. All you saw was the beauty.

I leaned my head against the cool glass, mesmerized.

I startled at the sound of Roman’s voice behind me. “Spectacular, isn’t it?”

I nodded without turning around. “It is. I never tire of it.”

“Did you grow up here?”

“Yes.”

“Once again, you are not where I left you. This seems to be a habit of yours.”

I met his gaze in the reflection. He was perched on the edge of his desk, the glass I had seen now in his hand. I turned and met his eyes. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“I woke up and came to see if I could go home yet.”

Instantly, his face changed. His expression became dark. “That isn’t happening for a long time, Effie. Get used to the idea, and stop asking me.”

“Why?”

He tossed back the alcohol in his glass and slammed it on the top of the desk. “Because of your goddamn sister.”

“Did you”—I swallowed—“did you have a relationship with her? Is that why you’re so mad?”

He scrubbed his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh.”

“Why would you think that?”

I shrugged. “She’s so pretty and⁠—”

He interrupted me. “Pretty is not the word I would use to describe your sister. Hard. Cold. She didn’t appeal to me at all. In fact, I imagine having sex with her is akin to throwing a hot dog down a hallway. Useless.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Wow.”

He shrugged. “Just being honest. You want pretty, Effie? Go look in the mirror and see past the bruises. You are incredibly lovely.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. I swallowed, my throat dry. “So how did you get, ah, involved?”

“I was not involved,” he stressed. “She gambled in my casino and lost a huge amount of money. Somehow slipped away from the manager without paying her debt. We found her, and I gave her a chance to pay it or suffer the consequences. She chose to go to the most despicable men out there and trade you for the money she owed.”

“So what those men said was true—she sold me.”

“Yes.”

I felt my knees start to tremble. “And they were going to…?” I trailed off.

He met my eyes. “Sell you off to the highest bidder as a sex slave, no doubt.”

My legs buckled, but Roman was right there, catching me. He sat me in his chair, holding my face. “Deep breaths, Effie. Take some deep breaths.”

I realized the noise I heard was me. I clutched at his wrists. “But—but, how—you?” I stuttered out.