Page 27 of The Bratva Queens' Kings

There's a pause, then a resigned sigh from the other end. "Of course, of course. Duty calls, right? But the offer stands."

As I'm about to disconnect the call, Senator Jackson adds, with a tone that implies a self-satisfied grin, "Oh, and Lana, I sent you a little token of my appreciation. For handling that... unpleasantness with Mr. Perez."

Wonderful. Just what I need, another 'token' from a man who thinks gratitude can be expressed in extravagant, usually inappropriate gifts. "You shouldn't have, Senator," I say, and I mean every word. The last thing I need is more clutter, especially from him.

"I insist," he says, chuckling as if we're sharing a private joke. "It's the least I can do."

I manage to end the call without committing to anything more, and just as I'm pondering what this latest 'token' might be—a statue? Another ludicrously expensive bottle of wine?—the door to my office flies open.

Roman bursts in, his presence filling the room like a storm front, he practically bellows, "Lana, we need to talk. Put that phone down."

Startled, I barely manage a curt nod at Senator Jackson's final words, pressing the end call button more abruptly than intended. "Of course, Senator," I manage to say just before the line goes dead, the relief of being able to escape the conversation battling with irritation at Roman's lack of decorum.

I glare at Roman, my irritation now at the forefront. Really, what is it with his manners today? Is he trying to embarrass me in front of my clients? Sure, Roman and I have always had a... dynamic relationship, but bursting in like a bull in a china shop while I'm on a call is a new low.

Setting my phone down with a deliberate click, I fix Roman with a look that I hope conveys both my current annoyance and my expectation for a damn good explanation. "Do you mind telling me what's so important that you had to nearly embarrass me in front of a client?"

Roman's chest heaves, his frustration palpable. "Should I just put up with being embarrassed in front of the whole syndicate, then?" he shoots back, the volume of his voice rising with each word.

I pause, taken aback by his response. "What the hell are you talking about, Roman?"

He's pacing now, a caged animal. "I thought I was the father of the baby, Lana."

The guilt knotted in my stomach tightens, but I steel myself against it. This isn't the time for weakness. Roman needs to hear the truth, however harsh it might sound. "If you thought it was a good idea to go announcing to everyone who cared to listen that you were the father, that’s on you, not me," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Roman's anger flares anew at my words, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "So, I'm just supposed to sit back and play happy families with Luca and Grigori while you decide who plays daddy?"

I cross my arms, meeting his glare with a defiant one of my own. "You knew the score, Roman. You've always known. Luca, Grigori, and you—we've never had secrets about what goes on between us." I take a breath, forcing myself to remain calm despite the tempest before me. "None of them are 'throwing a bitch fit about it,' as you so eloquently put it."

"They don't care, Lana!" he explodes, each word punctuated by his fists clenching at his sides. "Because neither of them wants this baby. But I do. And more than that, I want to be with you. Exclusively."

His words slam into me like a freight train, leaving me frozen in place. My mind races, trying to process his declaration. The idea of Roman, wanting exclusivity, wanting this baby—it's both terrifying and intoxicating.

I open my mouth to respond, but the words get tangled up on their way out. This isn't just about Roman and his wants. This is about us, our complex web of relationships, and the syndicate that's always been the backdrop to our personal dramas.

"Roman," I start, my voice steadier than I feel, "you know that's not how we operate. What we have... it's complicated. You, me, Luca, Grigori—we're in this together. It's never been just about two of us."

"I thought what we had was special," he spits out, the hurt palpable in his voice. "But maybe I was just another pawn in your game, huh? Just Roman, always ready to play his part, no questions asked."

His accusations sting, each syllable like a lash against my skin. But I remain silent, rooted to the spot, as if his words have stripped me of the ability to speak.

"You know, I actually believed we had something real," he continues, his voice breaking. "But I guess to you, it's all just strategy, isn't it? How to keep Roman in line, how to keep the syndicate on top. Where do I fit into your plans, Lana? Or do I even fit at all?"

His questions hang heavy in the air, unanswered, because what can I say? That he's right? That every relationship I've ever had has been a careful balance of give and take, always with one eye on the bigger picture?

But before I can muster a response, Roman's anger reaches its boiling point. "You know what? Forget it. I don't need this... I don't need someone who can't see me for who I am."

"Roman wait…"

And then he's moving, striding towards the door with a determination that says this isn't just an exit; it's a departure, maybe even a goodbye. My heart lurches at the realization, but still, I remain silent, paralyzed by a mix of guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

The sound of the door slamming shut behind him is like a physical blow, a final punctuation mark on the end of our conversation — and maybe even the end of us.

I finally move, my legs shaky, as if waking from a trance. The fierce leader, the unflappable femme fatale, now just a woman grappling with the consequences of her own decisions. My heart aches, not just for Roman, but for all of us.

What we had was special, and perhaps, in my quest to protect everything, I risk losing what matters most.

Fuck. When did my life become this tangled mess of emotions? Being entangled with three incredibly complex, incredibly different men was never part of the plan, if there ever was one. And now, Roman's departure has left a void, sharp and aching.

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