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He leans back, assessing me with those piercing green eyes. "You seem unusually invested in this. Why is it bothering you so much?"
It's a valid question, and one I'm not ready to answer. How can I explain my allegiance to the Chechens without revealing my true identity? The weight of the secrets I carry feels heavier at this moment.
"Let's just say I've seen how territorial disputes play out," I reply vaguely. "It's messy. And I thought... Ihopedyou had more sense than to get involved in something like that."
He chuckles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I've been in the game long enough to know the risks. Besides, maybe it's time for some new management in that part of town."
I inhale sharply, the implications of his words sinking in. This isn't just about land. It's about power, control, dominance. And it terrifies me.
Our coffees sit forgotten between us as we size each other up, both of us acutely aware the stakes have just been raised. Part of me wants to warn him, to make him see the danger he's in. But there's another part, the part loyal to my Chechen roots, that wonders if I should let him learn the hard way. It would make my job easier.
Regardless, the line between us, once blurry with passion, has sharpened into something far more dangerous. And I'm not sure which side I'm on anymore.
Roman's fingers brush against mine as we leave the café, a hint of warmth that battles the cold winter chill. He's playful, and a part of me is wary. But I find my steps in sync with his as we walk. I feel his energy, a mix of confidence and excitement, and I find myself curious despite the earlier confrontation.
"There's something I'd like to show you," he says, the lightheartedness back in his voice.
Within a few blocks, he stops us in front of a vast, empty lot, fenced off and covered with thin patches of snow and remnants of old construction. Its vastness makes it stand out, and I tilt my head, trying to imagine what he sees.
"This," he starts, sweeping an arm out, "is my next project. I have plans to open a range of shops here. You know, businesses that'll cater to the locals."
The revelation should surprise me, but it doesn’t. Roman's ambition is clear in his every move. Still, knowing his line of work, I can see the potential for some clandestine operations underneath all that commercial glitter.
But his expression softens, and he points to a particular corner of the lot. "Over there, I thought we'd have an open garden, a playground of sorts. After seeing Ilya playing, I realized there aren't many safe places in this city where kids can just be kids."
My heart skips a beat. He's thinking of Ilya?
"The idea is simple. Plant trees, add swings, a slide, and an open space where parents can watch their children play. Every child should have that, don't you think?" he asks, turning those intense emerald eyes on me.
The words catch in my throat, a mix of surprise and emotion. Roman's showing me a side of him I didn't expect. Yes, there’s the businessman, the potential mob boss, the dangerous alpha male. But this? This is someone who cares, someone who's seen a need and wants to address it. It's a side of him that's both confusing and endearing.
Before I can process it, I find myself stepping closer to him, my fingers brushing against his cheek. And then I'm kissing him. The world blurs, and there’s only this moment, this man, and the rush of feelings threatening to overwhelm me.
As we pull apart, his eyes search mine, and I can see his surprise. And perhaps something more. A vulnerability?
It makes my job that much harder. My mission hasn't changed, but Roman has thrown a wrench into my plans, making everything infinitely more complex. I both adore and despise this softer side of him. It’s drawing me in, but it’s also tearing me apart. Because every sweet gesture, every thoughtful word, is a reminder of the truth I'm trying so desperately to ignore: ending him will be no easy feat.
The late afternoon air carries the bite of winter's breath, hinting at a forecasted snowfall. Each step toward my apartment feels unhurried and drawn out, like we're stretching the seconds. Roman's fingers lace through mine, his touch grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions he conjures.
Standing outside my door, he seems larger than life—more daunting, more magnetic. He casts a long shadow under the dim hallway light, and as I look up to meet his gaze, the connection between us is palpable. Like always, it's a mix of chemistry and danger, swirling together in a heady concoction.
We don't speak, not with words. Instead, our lips find each other's in a soft, intimate embrace. It's a slow burn that sends warmth tingling down my spine, melting away the frost of the outside world. And yet, in the midst of it, there's a niggling sense of unease. It feels like the prickle of unseen eyes, the sensation of being observed.
I pull back, searching the vicinity, scanning each shadow and alcove, but nothing seems out of place. Yet the feeling persists.
Brushing it off as mere paranoia—a byproduct of my profession—I refocus on the man before me. "I don’t have to pick up Ilya for another couple of hours," I mention, an invitation hanging in my words. "Do you want to come in?"
Roman's eyes darken a shade, his desire evident. Without verbalizing it, he communicates everything: his yearning, his admiration, his hesitations, all laid bare.
"I thought you'd never ask," he murmurs.
In a swift movement, he closes the distance, his mouth reclaiming mine with a breathtaking ferocity. Passion flares, stoked by anticipation and need. My keys almost fall to the ground in my haste to unlock the door, our lips barely parting as we make our way inside.
Yet, in the depths of my mind, the sense of being watched lingers, casting a faint shadow on an otherwise perfect day.
Chapter 12
Roman
