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She sighed and headed for the hall, making her way past Roman’s room. She’d dared to peek inside it once and had been met with a wave of his scent that nearly brought her to her knees with lust. She’d only gotten a glimpse, a mere impression of his private quarters — a moody room with sleek oversized furniture — before she’d shut the door.
She hadn’t looked again. She was too afraid of her own desire to risk it.
She paused at the door across from hers and tested the knob.
Locked, as always.
There was another locked door in the other hall, the one that ran opposite this one, the two halls divided by the walkway leading from the elevator to the living space.
The locked doors were doubly intriguing because they were the only ones like them in the loft. This hall held Roman’s bedroom suite, the en suite that had become Ruby’s, a large bathroom, and the first locked door.
Roman’s office — another gloomy, impeccably decorated space — was off the other hall along with a gym, two guest rooms, another bathroom, and another locked door.
Her imagination had conjured all kinds of possibilities for the off-limits rooms: a room where the bratva stored drugs en route to suppliers, a money room with a safe and hoards of cash, even a torture chamber where Roman could bring his enemies to force their compliance.
None of the possibilities felt right, and more than once she’d been tempted to pick the lock in his absence, to find out what was behind the mysterious doors.
But that would be wrong, a violation of his privacy.
She reluctantly removed her hand from the knob and turned back to her own room.
22
Roman
Roman stood with Max on the sidewalk across from the precinct and watched the doors.
Adam Hale would be leaving at the end of his shift any minute.
Across the street, Georgiy, the man Roman had assigned to tail Adam at all times, stood in the shadows, warned to hang back this time and let Roman take the lead.
“Sure you don’t want to grab him in civvies?” Max asked.
“I’m sure,” Roman said, his eyes on the doors.
Fucking Adam up in uniform was part of the point.
A message:I’m not afraid of you or your uniform.
He’d wanted to come alone, hadn’t wanted Adam to think Roman needed Max to deal with him, but that had been a no from Max. Not because of Adam, who Roman could easily end, but because of the escalating battle with Roman’s father.
And it was escalating. His father was throwing more of Vladimir Orlov’s money at the problem — an advance on Valeriya’s marriage dowry probably. He had more men on the street to intimidate the businesses that worked with the bratva to continue supporting him even as Roman gave them incentives — monetary and otherwise — for switching sides.
Worst of all, his father had another container coming into the port next month — not gold this time but blood diamonds. Once they arrived, Roman’s father would have even more capital and Roman would be poorly positioned to fight it.
The only upside was that the new men his father had brought on were mostly young and untrained, wannabe gangsters who hadn’t been raised in their world.
It was a weakness Roman exploited. He sent his men to convince the ones with potential to join his side. The others were terrorized — tailed in an obvious manner so they were on edge 24/7, beaten up during their shifts — until they quit.
He was doing them a favor. Better for them to know now whether or not they could cut it than to found out later when not cutting it meant death.
It was messy, and Roman lived with Mikhail’s warning about Russia in his ear at all times.
He was also worried about Ruby. Hence, his visit to Adam.
Speak of the devil.
“There he is,” Roman said as Adam Hale left the station.
