Page 80 of The Agreement

The choice should be easy.

The right one was.

On the surface, yeah. Except the only problem with that was Roman had a feeling there was a lot at play in the Yazov household—and bratva. A lot of it was interconnected, and his selfish actions with Karine was only a small part of the bigger picture.

Until it wasn’t.

The way Roman saw it, technically, he only had three options. And none of them were great.

The first was that he did what Maxim would expect him to do as his boss—divulge the conversation he overhead Leonid having during a phone call. There was very little information he actually had about the details, but it was enough to alert the boss something might be brewing amongst his closest people.

There was just one problem with doing that—Roman couldn’t say Maxim was actually on his side. He demanded loyalty, but that didn’t mean he offered it. Men in high, dangerous positions were known for shooting the messenger. What if the plot was a trap that Leonid had set?

Roman wasn’t privy to everything.

Besides, did he really owe his loyalty to the Yazov Bratva? From personal experience, they were experts at manipulation and him being there in the first place was proof.

The second option was simply feeding his own selfish needs by taking the risk of spending the night with Karine. Even just the thought of that set his body on fire, the uncomfortable tightness of his pants being the proof that she only needed to be on his mind to capture all of his attention. He could still see her emerging from beneath the leafy tree outside, looking as sweet as sin and asking for him.

Spending the night with her possibly promised him two things—one was his dead heart in a box delivered to his mother, and the other was information. Karine could be his closest chance at finding out what was really happening inside the Yazov boss’s mansion. What might explain the strange things that were keeping him up at night. It was possible that she wasn't even aware she might have answers, too, but he wouldn’t know unless he asked. Or found where someone was hiding what he wanted to find.

Of course, the reality of that choice was painfully clear. If anyone even got a whiff of a hint that he’d spent the night with a spoken for woman like Karine, a boss’s daughter promised to a high-ranking man in her father’s organization, well ... nobody would hear from Roman again.

That early grave was calling.

The third and the most logical option was to fuck all that noise, and do the task he was sent to Chicago to do. Pay his dues, and beat feet to the pavement when the job was done. Nobody sent him there to solve mysteries, fuck their women, or uncover assassination plots. His sole purpose under the control of the Yazov boss was to earn money.

If his father was presented with the three choices—well, Roman knew exactly which one he would take. The only one that concerned his duty, and what was owed. Nothing more, and nothing less.

That was exactly why he hadn’t been calling Demyan, or answering his calls. If he heard his father’s voice—his choice would be inevitable, too.

“Good, it’s all here,” Leonid spoke up, interrupting the conversation between Maxim and Roman without apology. Two piles of cash sat high on the desk. One tower was the cash that was actually due—the second was just extra.

Bonus.

No boss refused that.

Maxim surveyed the money from all the way behind his desk, and nodded. Pleased.

“I’ll make sure your father hears about this,” he said to Roman, pointing the cigar in his hand to the stacks that waited for the boss’s hands to appreciate them properly. “Gotta say—if you kept earning like that, I’d shut my mouth and mind my business about your private matters.”

That backhanded statement nearly earned a response from Roman, if only because that was the first time Maxim had so obviously called out the reason why the younger man stood there. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Roman knew.

He didn’t plan to start now.

“Is there anything else?” Roman asked.

Only out of respect.

Maxim shook his head, murmuring a low, “Nyet.”

A hard no for a quiet answer.

Roman didn’t want to look too deep into that, either.

That was that. With the meeting over, Dima still on his phone, and Leonid flicking through the cash again, like he couldn’t keep his hands off it, Maxim said nothing more to suggest he wanted Roman to linger.

So, he didn’t.