Page 202 of Hate to Love You

Oleg flinches away from him, dropping the glass down on the bar, and spilling the contents everywhere.

Momentary relief fills me as I stare at the amber liquid dripping down from the edge.

“Boss! She approached me!” Oleg stutters, his eyes flicking to mine. “I swear, I didn’t touch her or—”

“I’m well aware,” Roman states, the look on his face murderous.

Fuck, he knows.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ROMAN

“Roman,” Abby gasps, her eyes wide as Oleg scrambles away from her at the bar. “I…I can explain, I swear—”

“Oh, I’m sure you can, Abigail,” I hiss glaring at her. “I’m sure you have a whole story lined up and ready to play at a moment’s notice.”

I lean in close, smelling the sweet floral perfume on her neck as I whisper in her ear.

“But I’m not going to let you kill any more of my fucking men.”

Her breath hitches, and in contrast to the confident facade she’s painted for me over the last month, she looks genuinely surprised.

Good.

“Oleg,” I say, without taking my eyes off of Abby. “Miss Wayne needs a ride home. Now.”

“Yes, Boss,” he quips, scurrying out of my sight to get the car.

“Roman, I—” She starts to say, but I raise my hand.

“No,” I whisper lethally. “Not tonight. You’re going to go home, and you’re going to stay there. And if anything should happen to Oleg on the way home, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. Do you understand me, Abigail?”

She gulps, her breath shaking as she looks between me and Cal who stands to my left.

“Do you,” I say slowly, “understand?”

Abby nods without saying a word.

“Her tab is closed,” I say to the bartender, slamming a hundred-dollar bill down on the counter before turning back to Abby.

“Let’s go.”

She bites her bottom lip and scoops her purse off the bar. I place my hand on the small of her back and move her toward the door. As we step outside, I can hear the murmur of the club crowd standing in line as I open the back door of one of the two Cadillac SUVs waiting.

“Roman, it’s not what you think,” Abby says as I help her into the car.

I smirk.

“Abigail,” I snort coldly, putting my hand in my pocket. “You have no idea what I think.”

She flinches, telling me silently that my appearance and demeanor has not just rattled her…it’s wounded her. This is only further confirmed when she folds her arms across her chest and looks away from me.

She’s hurt.

For a brief second, my resolve waivers, and I consider climbing in with her, and hearing her tell me the truth.

But I already know the truth.