Page 79 of The Agreement

That grin of his turned into a devilish smile.

Of course, he would.

She didn’t actually need him to reply.

SEVENTEEN

Maxim sat in the same cigar smoke-filled den as he had the last time Roman visited with a duffle bag full of cash. Only on this evening, the dense cloud didn’t irritate him in the same way. He had other shit on his mind, and that was never more apparent than while his heart pounded in his chest as he stepped into the den.

At least, he had more cash than Maxim was expecting. Even though tribute was being held earlier than usual this month—to accommodate the wedding plans and not clash the two events, or so he was told—Roman had been able to make the target cash, and then some.

A few hours ago, he’d been feeling good about this—the money, that was. He was confident Maxim would be impressed, and might have considered granting Roman the leave to go for a quick trip back to New York he had planned to ask for. In return for his good work, and behavior, of course.

Roman needed the space—not that he was keen on admitting to himself why. But then he had to go ahead and indulge Karine outside, listening to the crazy proposition she made ... he wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the rest of the night without bursting a vein.

Dima and Leonid waited in the room, too.

As he expected.

Leonid counted the cash, as usual, and Dima at least had the decency to look busy on his phone. He didn’t bother to glance up at Roman’s arrival.

Good.

He didn’t particularly want to look at the motherfucker, either.

“What do you have for me today, Roman?” Maxim asked, speaking jovially through the cigar that was clenched between his teeth. “Something good, yes? It better be.”

Roman deposited the duffle bags by Leonid’s feet so he could begin the count. Dima finally flicked a fleeting glance at him before turning to his father.

“We should test the vodka first,” he said, offering the word like he was continuing a conversation they were having already. Leonid nodded his agreement for his son’s idea, his hand waving at the liquor in question.

So, they were going to be drinking tonight.

Fun.

Like he needed another reason to loosen up his self-control.

Maxim had a few questions for Roman, and he posed them as Dima called for the servant in an attached section of the den to come ready the drinks. He tried not to show his surprise when Masha appeared between the doorway framed by old bookcases. Wasn’t she always with Karine?

It certainly seemed that way.

Except there she was.

Roman found himself considering whether Masha’s distraction with serving the boss during his tribute was another reason why Karine felt comfortable approaching him like she had earlier. Those thoughts ran wild in his head, the rebellious side of his nature lapping the idea up because it was yet another thing he wouldn’t have to worry about if he actually took Karine up on her offer.

Gonna get yourself shot, Roman.

Right, right.

He ignored his inner voice.

Instead, Roman tried to focus on the boss’s inquiries. The last thing he needed right now was to raise suspicions, but goddammit, he didn’t know how to act casual, anymore. If the men in that den knew any of the things he had done thus far with Karine—the room would be his own personal deathtrap.

Fuck walking the line.

Roman pissed all over it.

Maxim probed him on details about how the chop shop was being run, who was on his crew, and other aspects of his business that Roman still didn’t care to talk about with other people. Still, to keep that composure and facade up, he mechanically answered the questions—sipping on expensive vodka between each one while his mind was buzzing, trying to decide what he was going to do when he left that room.