Page 10 of The Agreement

“What are you going to do with it?” she called behind him.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Steal it for your chop shop?”

He gave Marky a look from the side, his tone mocking when he said, “She’s got brains, man. Imagine.”

Marky barked a laugh. “Shut up, asshole.”

Roman only shrugged, but even that wasn’t enough for Anastasia. She followed him down the alley while Marky went ahead of him with the key swinging from his index finger. It would have been easier if the chick disappeared by now. He half-expected her to go running to Dima or the others from his bratva to warn them of Roman’s plan.

Instead, her heels clicked on the cobbled alley while she tried to keep up with them.

“Please, I’m serious. God. Christ, listen to me! He will kill me, this will be all my fault,” she cried out again, a tremble in her voice making Roman hesitate.

When he turned to her this time, she was holding her arms out for him to see where she had shoved up the sleeves of her dress. There were more than just the bruises he had initially noticed. Cuts and deeper looking wounds, some fresh and others starting to heal, marked the insides of her arms.

Roman swallowed hard. “You’re not any better than any of the other girls he ships from state to state—you’re just paid.”

She didn’t reply, but the stuttering breath of air she released told him more than she could, anyway. He wasn’t up for playing hero with a woman—any woman, really. No one had time for that shit, but ...

Roman mulled over what to do. When he threw a look at Marky over his shoulder, his best friend gave him a raised brow and a tilt of his head in Anastasia’s direction like he was silently saying, Come on, Roman.

Jesus.

“Fine,” Roman told her, “you can come with us, but see yourself gone before morning.”

Relief swept over her face when she nodded wildly. “Yes, thank you, that’s all I need. Just a head start tonight.”

“Then, hurry the fuck up,” he growled.

Because he didn’t have time to keep being nice.

Marky had already made his way to the Bugatti parked at the side of the restaurant, opened the driver’s door and got the vehicle running. Ready for Roman to jump inside, and get gone as fast as he could. While there were bulls everywhere, keeping a watch on the premises, nobody even glanced his way when the Avdonin Prince slipped into a parked car. The key of which he already possessed.

Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Anastasia climbed into the passenger seat, exhaling deeply as she tried to catch her breath. Roman caught her eye as he pressed down on the accelerator. She smiled back.

He didn’t.

She would give him anything he wanted.

That much was clear.

The problem?

He was already bored.

THREE

“So, you haven’t picked a woman yet? Or one hasn’t been picked for you?”

Anastasia’s soft question had Roman’s hand clenching tighter around the steering wheel. He hadn’t expected that from her. The word choice suggested that maybe her involvement with Dima allowed her insight on bratva men and their way of life. He didn’t dare to indulge her curiosity, if that’s why she brought it up.

With an arm dangling out of the rolled-down window, and a lit joint between his lips, he reveled in the smell of the heavy smoke filling the interior of the car. It clung to the air between them, every breath dragging into his lungs tasted like weed and expensive leather.

He might have offered her a hit, but he wasn’t in the mood to share. And shit, hadn’t his good deed for the day been enough?