Page 74 of Ruthless Reign
His gaze thins. “Why not?”
“My parents, and—” I bite my lip, a jumble of worried thoughts invading my brain. “Anatoly will be furious you didn’t take me home.” I hate that this is what I have to worry about at a time like this, but I can’t lose my head.
“We were just attacked. No one is going to question why I took you somewhere safe to lay low after what just happened.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “We deserve this night together."
I gnaw at my lip, battling the internal tug-of-war of my desires.
Roman’s eyes darken, but he says nothing for a minute, only captures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, demanding my attention. “Leave him to me.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I have no more fight left in me. Just for tonight, I’ll give myself to Roman. It might be stupid and risky, but if I don’t, it’s a regret I’ll carry forever. Tonight will be for me. A memory to savor for the rest of my life.
Because once I’m free of Anatoly, once I’m free of this world, I won’t be sucked back in by any man. For Sofiya’s sake, I’ll show her real independence and strength. What it really means to stand on your own two feet.
Roman’s expression relaxes as his lips find mine.
This kiss is slow and seductive. His hands cradle my face as he slides his tongue against mine. I press closer, craving more, but he gently pulls away.
“We really have to go,” he whispers against my lips. “But trust me, I plan on finishing what we started.” With a final sweep of his hands down my body, he pulls my dress back in place, lifts me back into my seat, straps my seatbelt on, and kisses my forehead.
This sweet, caring side of Roman makes my stomach swoop with need.
He makes me crave something real, something I’ve never experienced before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ROMAN
It's fucking cold out, but I ignore the howling wind ripping through the jacket of my suit as I step outside onto my balcony. I also ignore the dull ache in my shoulder as I swig from the bottle of vodka in my hand in an attempt to calm my racing nerves.
I've stared down the barrel of a gun countless times, but having Liza by my side amplified the fear to a whole new level. The thought of losing her because of my actions had my heart pounding relentlessly in my chest. Her life was at risk because of me. Dismissing my guard before driving her home was fucking stupid, all because I wanted to be alone with her.
Swallowing a final gulp of vodka, I debrief Pavel on the situation via text, attaching pictures of our would-be attackers' vehicle that I captured before we fled the scene. They had no ID on them, and there was nothing in their vehicle to indicate who they're working for. Whoever sent them took pains to ensure they couldn't be traced.
I'll meet with Pavel in the morning. Whatever he wanted to share can wait another few hours. Hopefully, by the time we meet, our men will have some intelligence on tonight's attack.
Running one of the most powerful syndicates on Russian soil, we have no lack of enemies. Still, an uneasy feeling churns in my gut. Not many people knew the time our ship loaded with cargo was scheduled to dock.
Would Anatoly leak this kind of information to the Zhukovs? Anything is possible, but why? What’s his motivation? Our partnership is mutually beneficial and making us all a fuck ton of money. Until I have proof that Anatoly's loyalties lie elsewhere, I can't make a move against him. Too much is at stake. But I'm watching him closely; one misstep, and I’ll take him down.
My professional restraint doesn't apply to Liza. Anatoly forfeited any claim to her, the moment I saw that bruise on her. And I’m giving him a free pass for taking Sofiya out drinking with a bunch of his business cronies.
Stepping back inside my penthouse, I find Liza rummaging in the kitchen cupboard under my sink. “Looking for where I hide the bodies?”
She rises to her feet, smiling. “I was looking for your first-aid kit.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask, concern flooding through me.
“I’m fine. It's for you.” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyes land on my shoulder.
“Right, that.” I chuckle. “My first-aid kit is in the bathroom.”
I grab her hand and lead her towards my bedroom. As we step inside, curiosity lights up her features. She takes it all in—the stone fireplace, plush Persian rugs, and natural wood finishes.
“This isn’t what I expected.” She releases my hand to wander further into my space. “I pictured some sort of swinging bachelor pad, with mirrors on the ceiling. That kind of thing. But this is actually pretty cozy.”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” I lean against the doorframe and watch her with a half-smile. "You're the first woman to step foot in here, other than my housekeeper.”