Page 81 of The Agreement

Roman walked out of the den without a glance back. Another month was over—he’d made it through a second tribute in a city that didn’t belong to him under the thumb of a boss that never left him feeling quite ... settled. Technically, they didn’t even need to see his face for a month, maybe more, depending on how long Maxim waited before calling the next after the wedding and whatever celebrations had been planned for that mess.

It would have been so easy for Roman to simply walk out of there, and forget about Karine and the shady shit happening within the Yazov Bratva. Forget about the plot against Maxim—who gave a fuck about Chicago? This was not his home; he hadn't even wanted to be there in the first goddamn place.

More importantly, he had no plans of staying any longer than was necessary. If he got himself tangled up in other people’s shit, more so than he already was, then he would have no choice but to see it through to the end.

He didn’t have to feed into his selfishness—or his worries. Those little bastards that had never really been much of a concern for him before wouldn’t leave him alone now.

Roman could take the easy way out of there—out of all of it, really. Simply by doing what he was there to do, and nothing more.

But he walked out of the mansion, and stepped into the cold air of an inky-black night. He could see Marky standing at the end of the driveway, leaning against his car while he smoked a cigarette, and waited for his friend.

Roman had always taken the easy way out. That was exactly why he had gotten away with so much shit for as long as he had. Maybe it was time he changed a few things in his life.

Particularly, that.

• • •

Marky threw a half-finished cigarette to the ground when he noticed Roman’s approach.

“Good to go?” he asked.

Roman only nodded.

Marky had been there when Karine turned up in the driveway earlier, and heard most of the conversation. He was the one who had reminded Roman it was time to go meet the boss, redirecting his friend’s attention back to what was important.

“Yeah, we’re good to go,” Roman said.

The two jumped into the car with Marky behind the wheel again—the only person Roman really cared to let drive him around.

“Did something happen in there? You came out looking mean, man.”

Roman shrugged. “No, it was good. Maxim’s happy. So was the accountant.”

“So, we go celebrate now?”

Actually, that was a great way to describe what Roman was about to do.

“Yeah, I think I do want to celebrate,” Roman replied.

Marky’s brow furrowed as he started the engine—maybe it was the fact Roman said he was willing to have some fun when he’d been clearly, and loudly, refusing to do exactly that since his friend arrived in town. The car sped down the driveway to the gates, only the headlights cutting through the darkness of the estate. The exterior of the mansion was as dimly lit as the inside was bright.

“Stop here,” Roman said without warning.

Marky crunched hard on the breaks, sending both unbuckled men flying forward in their seats. Roman was the only one to catch himself from smashing into the dashboard. He wasn’t really sorry about the way his friend glared over at him from behind the wheel.

“What the fuck, Roman?”

Well ...

Now or never, he figured.

“I’m getting out.”

“Here? Why—where the fuck are you going?” Marky demanded, waving out with squinting eyes at the dark.

When he turned back to Roman, the answer seemed pretty obvious when he didn’t reply and only lifted one shoulder. In fact, he thought Marky should have known this might happen from the start. He’d heard that conversation, after all.

Even if he did have motives behind it, who would turn a look like that down? A foolish man, that’s who.