Page 9 of Roman Petrov

There’s no way in hell I’m going to let her win.

I’m going to get the Empire. Watching her shatter is going to make that victory even sweeter.

6

NADIA

“How much did you say it is?” Rochelle asks me for the third time.

Repeating myself doesn’t make it any less. “Almost twelve grand. A month.” Waving the paper in my hand, I wish for myself that I could blow off a zero or two.

“That’s so crazy! I had no idea property taxes in Vegas were that high. And, you’re stuck with it.” Her voice has that high pitch she saves for stressful situations. Usually I only hear it at the fashion shows when it’s our products walking the line.

“My only option would be to let it go in default. Except—” I take a deep breath. “—I already signed the acceptance paperwork before I realized. I’m liable.” Tears threaten to spill over for the third time since getting the statement this morning from the city.

I’m so screwed.

Our clothing line has tapped both of our resources. We’ve invested every penny of liquid assets we own into promotion.

She’s quiet a long time. “Well, I’m sure something will come up? Are you still going to be at the shop later?”

At least her tone has dropped back down into a less abrasive range.

“I’ve had two lawyers look into it. They both say there isn’t much I can do except open a case before a judge. But, that could take months or even years because of back-log.” I absolutely hate my father for putting me into this situation. I should have just hung up the phone when Garland reached out after my dad died.

“Well, I gotta get back on the sewing machine. I’ll see you in a bit? Donuts from Maple’s?”

Her sweet tooth will be the death of her.

But, she’s hard to say “no” to.

“Sure. I’ll be there soon.” The tax paper is crumpled from me carrying it around, so I let it drift back to my desk.

If there was some way out of this, I’d sign it over to that Roman character for free if I knew how.

That man. His stare was unnerving. And, the things he said made me so angry, but so…something else. I’m not sure if I liked it or not.

It was hard not to think about him before I went to bed. His dark eyes and what they’d look like watching me from above.

Like one of the men in my books. Dominant. Powerful. And perhaps a little scary?

What commands would he give that I would relent and follow?

No. Shaking my head, I try to shove that asshole from my thoughts.

I have to work twice as hard now, and hope that when I can finally sell the club, I do more than break even.

Okay, keys, phone, designs, fabric sample bag, water bottle. I think I have everything.

But, as I step out of my door, I nearly drop it all on the porch.

He’shere.

My jaw sets itself as I scowl at him.

He’s leaning against his car, all perfect looking smoking a cigarette. Like he’ssupposedto be there.

Whatever. I don’t have the time or the patience for him.

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