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And I… I don’t know what to think.
CHAPTER18
Roman
We arrive home from the engagement party that felt much too real. Too intimate. I made promises to her mother of my own free will, without seeking an advantage or getting anything in return other than the woman’s blessing.
Why would I do such a thing?
The more time I spend around Sophia, the more strangely I act. I barely recognize myself.
Right now, I’m teetering on the edge of two options. One, I give in, let myself loose, and fuck her out of my system once and for all. It could take weeks, or even months to get enough of her. But then I could regain control of myself and only see her when she needs to fulfill her duty of giving me an heir.
Option two is much safer. I can keep hold of myself and not let her burrow any further under my skin. I will resist temptation. I will avoid her at all costs.
I glance down at her as we walk through the front door. She’s the sweet goddess of sin and ruin. My own special kind of temptation. I’m afraid of becoming addicted, so the safer choice is to distance myself from her siren’s call.
“Goodnight, Roman,” she says, immediately heading upstairs to her room.
I pause in the foyer. That was too easy. Something is wrong, she seems off tonight, and I’m afraid it’s because of what I confessed earlier. Her father did have a choice and he took the easy route by giving her to me. Though I suppose it was unnecessary for me to rub that in her face.
That, I’ll admit, was an asshole move.
Though this may be a blessing in disguise. If she’s angry with me, and keeps her distance, then I don’t have to put forth the effort. All my problems are solved.
“Goodnight,” I call after her, though she’s disappeared from view.
Instead of going upstairs, I head into my office. I haven’t touched Sophia since we had sex on my desk at HQ. I’ve been busy and she hasn’t come to seduce me again. Does she regret what we did that afternoon? Is she waiting for me to come to her?
Either way, it doesn’t matter, I remind myself. Avoiding each other is for the best. We’re both safer this way. She has her life, and I have mine.
Simple. Straightforward.
Dropping into my chair, I heave a sigh. Why the fuck are women so complicated?
Why do I care? I don’t care.
I’m keeping her for purely selfish reasons. For business reasons. It’s not like I’m in danger of developing feelings for her, for fuck’s sake. My heart froze over a long time ago. I could fuck her without feeling a thing toward her if I wanted.
The lie tastes like acid in the back of my throat.
Fuck. Somewhere along the way, I’ve started to care about her. First for her physical safety, and now for her feelings, her wants, her needs. I hurt her feelings tonight—and I fuckingcare.
The promise I made to her mother haunts me. What possessed me to make such a vow? Do I really intend to give Sophia everything she desires?
I’m afraid to answer that question, so I wake my computer and open my email application. There’s an unread message that helps put my head on straight and keep me focused.
De Luca, did you see yesterday’s newspaper? More good news today: Word on the street is his cousin is distancing himself from the situation. Others are following his lead. The FBI investigation will tear them apart. ~B.B.
I did see yesterday’s article about the FBI cracking down on the Russian mob after receiving an anonymous tip about some of their more unsavory business pursuits. No doubt that has caused quite a stir among the Kozlov Bratva. They’ll soon realize the leaked information leads back to Nikolai Kozlov and if they want off that sinking ship, they’d better jump now.
The fact that the cousin, Dimitri Kozlov, already understands the significance of the situation is a good sign. His uncle runs the Bratva, which puts him second in command, and Nikolai Kozlov third. That third leg is about to be torn out from under them, if they don’t kick it out first.
I delete the email, removing all traces of it from the server. Once this is over, I want no lingering reminders of Kozlov.
* * *
Sophia stays in her room for three days. Three. Whole. Days.
