by Rose, Baylee
“That’s unacceptable. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Really, Roman. It’s not a big deal,” Ana says.
“It is. I told you to fire her if she kept disrespecting you,” I complain, upset this has been going on without my notice.
“She’s been better. I’m rarely alone with her. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with her. It won’t be long until…” she trails off as her face heats up.
I think about what she said, and any way I choose to finish her sentence displeases me.
“Until what, Ana?” I growl this time, my voice dark.
“Roman, let’s not get into this right now. You’ll be late,” Ana says, refusing to meet my eyes.
She’s right, I will be. I don’t give a fuck. Something about hearing the woman you are obsessed with talk as if your time with her is limited has a strange effect on a man.
“Ana, we’ve gone over this shit. Do you not get that I’m not letting you go?”
“Roman…” she trails off for a second, her eyes looking down at her hands instead of me.
“Ana. Eyes, now,” I order, and her face snaps up and her eyes sparkle with displeasure, but fuck that, she needs to understand this. “You are going nowhere.”
At my words, some of the anger leaves her, but there’s another look on her face now, one I’m not sure how I feel about. It almost looks like hopelessness.
“Let’s just take it one day at a time, Roman. If I’m still around in a month, I’ll handle her…”
“Mayra!” I yell, my voice loud enough to shake the rafters in the ceiling. I’ve had enough of this shit. Ana must know because she pulls away, jumping at my tone. She pulls the sheet tight around her body and now there’s fear in her eyes. My dick pushes against my jeans because caring for Ana or not, I’m still a bastard. The sight of her fear makes me want to control and conquer her that much more.
“Mr. Anthes?” Mayra says from the door. I turn to watch her freeze as her eyes go to Ana lying in my bed. Her dislike shows on her face clearly before she hides it and raises her eyes to mine.
“I told you, if you didn’t respect my woman, you were finished. Apparently you didn’t take that to heart.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Anthes.”
“Ana says you’ve been disrespecting her in private.”
“Roman,” Ana starts, but I ignore her. The controlled mask on Mayra’s face slips somewhat.
“I’ve been doing my job, Mr. Anthes. I don’t have time to cater to the whims of some—”
“My woman. That’s who she is, Mayra. She’s mine. She’s staying. I will have my ring on her hand and my child in her belly. She will be around for a long fucking time. A lot longer than you will.”
“Roman,” Ana gasps.
“Mr. Anthes,” Mayra starts. I ignore them both and instead pull off my jacket.
“Pack your things, Mayra. I want you out of this house in thirty minutes. Robert will drive you back into town. I’ll mail your severance pay. I’ll be generous though; it’s more than you deserve.”
“You can’t be serious!” Mayra protests, her face now full of hate, but now it’s not all directed at Ana.
“Deadly, and now you have three less minutes to pack than you did before.”
“Bastard!” Mayra spits at me. I grin. She looks at me, and then back at Ana. “You’ll regret it,” she snarls and then stomps out. I grab my phone and call the security detail that is on duty in the guardhouse by the gate to my estate.
“I’ve just released Mayra Baxter from employ. She has thirty minutes to leave. Have Robert waiting on her and a man on her as she walks from the house to the limo please.”
“Got it sir,” I hear right before I hang up. Ana is sitting up in bed, her face full of shock.
“Roman, I don’t think… I mean… Why would you… What are you doing?” she stutters before finally getting the only question that matters out.
“I can’t leave until Mayra is gone,” I tell her, unbuttoning my shirt. Ana’s eye watch my every movement.
“About that, there’s still time. Maybe you could talk to her and get her… Roman! What are you doing?” she asks again, her back going straight as I unzip my pants.
“You have thirty minutes to make me forget.”
“Make you forget what?” she asks as I kick off my shoes and discard the rest of my clothes. When I’m completely naked, I walk to the other side of the bed. My dick is hard and leaning towards her. Bastard knows what he wants.
“That you thought for one minute you were leaving me,” I tell her.
“Roman.”
“Shut it, Ana,” I tell her. I palm my dick, stroking it once, slow and hard. I pull her on the bed by her leg until she’s lying crosswise. She doesn’t fight me; I think she’s still in a sort of shock. “Spread your legs wide, Ana.” I order.
She hesitates for just a second, and then slowly opens her legs wide, bracing her feet on the mattress. Her pussy is glistening. Perfect. I line up with her entrance and slam home, not even bothering with gentle. I don’t have that in me right now.
“Mine!” I growl like a fucking caveman. Ana’s arms go around me, her nails biting into my back as she stretches to find my ear so I can hear her moan of approval—and then her whisper.
“Yours, Roman. I’m yours,” she reassures me. The words calm the beast inside of me. For now.
I watch from the window in the study while the lights of the limousine disappear. Watching him leave fills me with a feeling of doom. Is today the beginning of the end? He said he had to go to work, not to visit my brother, but would he tell me if he was? He promised he was just going to help him get completely sober and then he would let him go. What Allen did from there on out would be up to him.
But Roman probably won’t get that chance.
I’m sure Paul is working overtime on ways to set Roman up, especially since I have been MIA and ignoring his phone calls. Just the thought of that man and what he could be up to causes fear to fill me. I turn cold, fine sweat breaking out over my body. I’ve begged Roman to be careful and warned him that Paul will be looking to bring him down. I’ve even taken to searching the house and the limo, just in case whoever else Paul has on the inside might try to plant what I wouldn’t. I’ve not found evidence of anything going on, but that doesn’t do a lot to make me feel better. I wrap my arms around myself, my thoughts somehow chilling the whole room, unease filling me. I need to do something.
“Do you need anything, Ms. Stevens?” One of the security guys that Roman has on staff asks me. I forget his name, but then there are so many people working for Roman, there’s no way to keep them all straight.
“I’m fine. Thanks. I was just about to lie down. I seemed to have developed a headache,” I lie.
“Fine. If you need anything, you can hit the number zero on the phone. That will call security.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, watching as he leaves the room.
Once he does, I count to ten. Then I worry that’s not enough and count to ten again. Panic fills me and I worry it’s still not enough. By the time I’ve counted enough times to hit fifty, I figure I need to quit stalling. I move over to the fake ferns that are in the entry way planter along with multicolored flowers. They were so lifelike, I thought they were real—until I touched them. I guess when you have enough money, even fake flowers can look better than real ones. It takes me a little bit of digging because I buried the phone well, not wanting anyone to find it. Once I wrap my hand around it, I breathe a little easier. I get it and then start looking towards the back of the planter for the battery. It takes a few minutes to find it and then I walk to the sofa and sit down with the newly assembled phone. I stare at it a minute before turning it on. Then I dial Paul’s number and wait. It doesn’t take long—two rings.
“About fucking time. What the fuck are you doing at Anthe’s house? You know what the fucking plan is.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“No, Paul. I need to talk to you. I think—” I would argue more, but the phone goes dead. That’s when the fear really hits. I swallow against the bile rising in my throat. It’s time for me to either come clean with my superiors and hope they are more trustworthy than Paul, or come clean with Roman. Either choice is bad. There’s no guarantee that my captain will even listen, and given the choice, I know the majority of the team members will back Paul over Roman, who they view as scum. To them, they’d just be getting another perp off the streets. Telling Roman means warning him and betraying my badge—and it also means admitting to Roman that I’ve been lying to him since day one.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Either choice is going to be hell.
The house phone rings and I jump. I shut my phone back down. I don’t take the battery out of it again, however. There’s no point. Paul knows where I’m at, and it’s clear he’s not about to try and contact me now. I reach over and grab the telephone and, reading Roman’s cell number on the caller I.D., I go ahead and answer it.
“Hey,” I whisper, hoping he can’t hear the worry and panic in my voice.
“Pet, there’s a business dinner tonight. I’ve tried to get out of it, but there’s no way. It begins at seven.”
“Oh, okay,” I tell him, a little disappointed. “What time will you be home?”
“Be home? Ana, you will be going to the dinner with me. There’s a blue dress in your closet that I picked out personally. Put it on, and wear your hair down—I don’t like it when you wear it up. I’ll talk to you later.”
He hangs up just like that, and I stare at the phone wondering what the hell just happened. My worry over everything going on with Paul and Roman takes a back seat as I replay the conversation in which Roman doesn’t ask if I want to go to a dinner; he just demands it, then instructs me on what to wear and how to fix my hair. Anger takes the place of worry. The asshole just expects me to fall in line like everyone else in his life. I decide to concentrate on him being an asshole and not on the impending doom that’s breathing down my neck. I’ll make up my mind on whether I should come clean with Roman or the detective in charge of the investigation tomorrow.
Tonight, I have a lesson to teach Roman Anthes.
“Who the fuck is this?”
I watch as Ana’s brother looks at the fucker that Bruno just threw down at the man’s feet. The bastard in question is hogtied. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. Marcum really is a master when it comes to ropes. He’s got a gag in his mouth and the bruises on his naked body and face tell me that this was a job that Marcum enjoyed.
“He doesn’t look familiar?” I ask Ana’s brother.
You can see the exact moment recognition hits him. Allen’s body literally shakes with it. Then he goes pale, so motherfucking pale I’m starting to think the son of a bitch is going to pass out in front of me. Slowly, I see the heat of anger replace every other emotion.
“Ana fucking told you?” he screams. “That fucking cunt had no right! Get him out of here, you all fucking need to just get out of here. Kill me already! Stop torturing me! Who the fuck do you think you are? I can’t…”
I stop his tirade by grabbing him by the neck and slamming him hard against the wall. I squeeze his neck so tight, his face begins to turn blue. His hands don’t even come up to defend himself. Then I look into eyes, eyes so much like Ana’s that it’s unreal. Except these eyes are full of an emotion I never want to see in Ana’s: misery. The son of a bitch truly wants to die. It’s time for some hard truths and it seems I’ve been elected to deliver them.
“Not one more fucking word about Ana. The reason you’re alive right now, motherfucker, is because of Ana. The reason I’m giving you even a ghost of a chance is because of Ana. For some fucking reason, she loves you. She believes in you. I’m a selfish asshole, so I have to tell you. If you were anyone besides her brother, her even caring for you would be the end of you. Instead, I’m giving you someone to take your aggression out on. I get you’re fucked up in the head. I had to hear my woman cry. She’s innocent to the slime in this world. She hasn’t been exposed to the shit we have. You and I know how fucking twisted shit is. Ana doesn’t. A frightened girl ran and hid from a bastard not knowing her brother would even be considered a victim. You get that? She didn’t know.” I see the need to argue with me in his eyes. I let off the pressure on his neck slightly—not enough for him to talk and argue, but enough so he can breathe. “What you don’t know is that once she knew, she tried to get the monster’s attention away from you. She tried to sacrifice herself to keep him from going after you again. What you don’t know is that she blames herself every fucking day. So you need to get your head out of your ass. Focus your anger on this bastard until you can start to breathe clear again.”
“What do you know about anything?”
“A fuck of a lot more than I’ll ever tell you.”
I see indecision in Allen. I let Allen stew in everything while I instruct the boys to untie our plaything and chain him up on the wall.
“What’s it matter? I go to jail. I don’t have anything to live for anyways. Just fucking end me and stop torturing me. Word on the street was, you don’t let people breathe air that cross you. Jesus, why are you putting me through this shit?? End me already!” Allen says, screaming his last command, his whole body shaking from the force of it.
That’s when it hits me. Full-on. In the fucking face.
“You picked my club because you had a death wish. That’s why you ignored my warnings. That’s why you kept coming back, even knowing you were getting on the Russian’s radar?”
The kid shrugs, but avoids my eyes. “I figured between you and Kuzma…” he says, but doesn’t finish the thought.
“If you wanted to die so fucking bad, why not just eat a bullet?”
“Because no matter how bad I wanted to end it, I could never pull the fucking trigger! There! Satisfied?”
“What if I told you I had enough power to keep you out of jail?” Allen’s face jerks up to me. Disbelief is clear, but there’s something else.
“Why would you be willing to do that?”
“Because you matter to Ana.” I tell him the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion I’d do anything for Ana. Absolutely anything. Even save her worthless brother. Though, if I want to think about it, I can admit to seeing a little more in him now. Maybe something even worth saving.
“You’re that gone over my sister?” he asks while I take off my jacket and lay it over the top of a chair. Ana is something I’m not discussing with Allen. Something I’m not discussing with any motherfucker. I motion to Bruno and he tosses me the baseball bat I brought earlier.
“You gonna help me end this motherfucker or not?” I ask him, gripping the bat and walking to the son of a bitch who is squirming against the wall, but knows it’s useless.
“Why are you helping?”
“Because he touched Ana. For that alone, he’s not allowed to breathe anymore.”
Allen is silent for a minute, and then I see half a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m going to help. You first, though, because I want to finish him.”
I can’t argue; given Allen’s history, I’d demand that too.
“Batter up, then,” I tell him, right before my bat drums into the side of our prey’s head. I have to remind myself to pull my swings so Allen has something left to play with.
“You’re home late. I thought we had to be at the dinner by now?" I ask Roman when he walks through the door. He stops to look at me and it takes years of training to keep from squirming. I know he’s taking in my outfit and hair. I’m wearing dress pants, black, with a white lace and silk top. It shows nothing, not even cleavage. My hair, I’ve twisted and secured at my nape, and though I know I look good, I look nothing like Roman instructed. I wait to see if he says anything. I’m almost disappointed when he doesn’t. “We’re going to be late,” I add, waitin
g for the explosion.
“I’ll shower and be out in twenty,” he says, which is damn anticlimactic. I’ve been keyed up for an hour wondering what he would say or do. I almost talked myself out of my rebellion two or three times. Now it seems I worried over nothing. I follow him to the bedroom and pick up his discarded trail of clothes.
I notice there’s a stain on his shirt just as he heads to the shower. “Roman? Did you cut yourself? There’s blood on your shirt.”
“It’s not mine,” he says ominously over the roaring water in the shower. I decide to let it go and not think about it. Lord knows I have enough on my plate.
True to his word, Roman is out of the shower and in the limousine headed to the dinner in thirty minutes. Yet the ride over is really quiet. He’s said very little and I’m picking up a weird vibe from him. Even worse, he’s not given me so much as a simple kiss on the cheek since he got back, and that’s very different from the way he usually is with me.
“Is everything okay, Roman?” I ask when I can’t stand the silence any longer. We’ve been at the party for an hour. I’ve been introduced, inspected, and dissected since we got here. The men have leered and the women have been trying to kill me with looks. I’m a nervous wreck and I just want out of here. The fact that Roman has kept a hand on me the entire time, either by putting his arm around me or keeping one at the small of my back, is the only reason I haven’t run away. All this, however, and he’s still barely said more than four complete sentences to me. He leads me over to the corner of the ballroom we’re in. We’re the only couple in here and I find I can breathe easy for the first time since we got in the damn vehicle to get here.
“What could be wrong, pet?”
“You’re quiet,” I tell him as he pulls us to the corner and leans against it as if he owns the place. Hell, maybe he does. “Roman, maybe we should go home. You don’t seem to be in the mood to be here, and I…”
“Stand in front of me, Ana, with your back to the others,” he orders, interrupting me.