Page 88 of Ruthless Reign

I say goodbye to Sofiya and take a minute to check my trading app. After getting my phone back from Roman, I made some quick buys. But checking now, only a few hours later, I see I've missed the sell-off peak.

Crap.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall.

That’s thousands of dollars lost. Quite literally, I can’t afford to be off my game over the next few days. Even while I'm living in this bubble and playing house with Roman, it doesn't change what's waiting for me on the other side.

If I fail… Well, failure isn’t an option.

I stomp up the stairs to the entrance of Roman’s not-so-small cabin, the snow crunching under my boots. “I thought you said it was a cozy cabin in the woods.”

“Did I undersell it?” Roman asks, each breath escaping as a visible puff in the crisp air while he punches in a passcode to unlock the door.

“Uh, yeah. This place is huge.”

He winks at me and swings the door open.

Inside, the cabin feels much cozier with its rustic log walls and a commanding stone fireplace. I can only imagine how pretty it will look when daylight floods in through the expansive glass wall.

“What do you think?” Roman steps back to gauge my reaction.

“I like it,” I admit, turning in circles. “It has a chalet feel. Definitely not the bare-bones cabin I was picturing.”

“It was bare bones at one time.” He drops our bags by the foot of the stairs and takes a quick assessing look around. “This place was in my mother’s family for generations. I inherited it when she died.”

“I’m sorry. When did she die?” I ask gently.

“When I was fifteen, but it wasn’t until I was in my twenties and part of Maxim’s crew that I had the money to renovate. Knocked the whole thing down and started from scratch.”

Roman doesn’t talk much about his past, and I don’t want to pry, but I find this little glimpse into his family history fascinating.

He starts to unpack the groceries. On the way up here, we stopped for food and clothes after I insisted I couldn’t actually wear Roman’s too big T-shirts and sweatpants.

“Do you come up here often?” I ask, leaning against the counter.

“Not really.” His back is to me, so I can't see his expression.

I realize I’m not being very helpful, so I busy myself opening the bottle of wine we brought with us and pour two glasses.

“This place doesn’t hold the best memories for me.”

“Oh?” I swallow and take a sip of wine, waiting for him to continue, which he doesn’t do right away.

Instead, he turns and braces his hands on the marble kitchen island, giving his head a small shake. “My mother died here.”

A lump forms in my throat as I reach for him and rest my head between his powerful shoulder blades. Roman is stock-still, but his body softens when I nestle against him.

I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “What happened?”

He releases a heavy breath before turning around to face me. My arms are still wrapped around his middle as I tip my head to look up at him.

“What happened is dark and ugly. It’s not something I want to burden you with.”

My heart squeezes. I don’t want to leave him alone in the dark. I want to carry some of his story with me.

I tighten my arms around him. “It’s not a burden. Let me be there for you, even if it’s just to listen.”

Roman looks away, his expression conflicted as shadows pass over his eyes. After a long pause, he finally speaks. “My father used to beat on my mother and me. Not very original, huh? A drunk beating on his family.” He scoffs. “I tried to step in… I hated to see my mother hurt. One day we were here, I was swimming in the lake, and when I came back to the cabin, it was obvious that he roughed her up. She looked fine, certainly not worse than other times, but there was a bleed on her brain that led to her falling into a coma.”

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