Page 78 of For a Price

“Head Bitch in Charge. It’s, um, a pop culture reference. An American thing. Forget I said that. It’s good you’re with him… isn’t it?”

For a second time, Roman doesn’t answer me. By the furrow of his brow and sharpness of his features, I can tell he’s deep in thought. Probably sorting out various potential scenarios. But I’m a curious person.

The phrase curiosity killed the cat almost perfectly describes me at any given time.

Since Roman won’t answer about the sovietnik and pakhan, I try my luck with a slightly different topic.

“Fozzil’s in the hospital. He was run over in the middle of the street by an unknown black vehicle.”

“You say this as if I know who the fuck that is.”

“You know,” I say. “You know because it was your men, wasn’t it? You ordered the hit on him?”

A second of silence goes by where Roman shows no sign of guilt. Not a single ounce of remorse. He merely tightens his arms around my hips and looks me straight in the face.

“Yes. It was my men. And the others in your group will be next.”

“But—”

“I’ve told you,” he interrupts unapologetically. “They have to die if you are to survive.”

It’s the end of our conversation on the matter, though it’s not the end of my thoughts on it. The rest of the night passes by with Roman and I watching a movie in the home theater and then preparing for bed.

The entire time I’m conflicted over what I’ve learned.

I’m no longer a part of the crew with JC, Finch, and Fozzil. But that doesn’t mean I want them dead either…

I’ve never worked out so much as I have since coming to stay in Roman’s penthouse. Every afternoon he’s gone, I’m spending the time in his personal gym, doing my best to work off all the food I’ve been eating.

Keeping active helps me in other ways. The activity clears my head and gives me space to think between the gasps for air and sweat soaking my tank tops.

I’ve landed on minding my business. While I might care about the guys—I’m only human—I can’t possibly save them. How can I when I can’t even save myself?

Everything Roman’s doing is to protect me. He’s made it clear I’m dangerously close to being on the chopping block. If his father discovers my involvement, I’ll be a goner.

It seems Roman is attempting to sacrifice JC, Finch, and Fozzil instead.

Fucked up when morals come into play, but I’m just going to have to look the other way.

I’m in too deep with Roman to pull back now.Realfeelings have started to form. The man basically has me dickmatized after his performance the other night. He’d hit all the right spots and made me come ’til I was almost in tears.

So far, I’ve enjoyed exploring sexually with him. Not only enjoyed it, but I want more of it. More of his manhandling treatment, tossing me onto beds and having his way. More kinky punishments when I happen to ‘misbehave’ as he calls it. More of everything he’s given me.

That includes the tender moments between us.

The moments where we lay in bed and he plays with my hair, always so fascinated by the curl texture. The moments where we share details about our lives before we met and I learn more about life in the bratva.

Things between us have started to feel like an actual…relationship.

I’m huffing air as I step off the treadmill with wobbly legs and reach for a towel to mop the sweat off my face.

Roman won’t be home for another hour or two. Plenty of time to shower and make myself look enticing for him at dinner.

The first time in my life I’ve really even cared about making myself look sexy for a man.

I reach the door and draw it open to step into the hall only to stop in my tracks.

A distinct voice echoes from down the hall. Polina’s in the middle of some kind of phone conversation, speaking fast in Russian.

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