“We’re so fucked,” Dimitri mumbled low enough for Mosca to hear before knocking back the whiskey he was holding.
For over an hour, Roman stood unmoving at the window as the party pulse beneath them. Rahina was all over the club, never stopping as she laughed, talked, and danced through her party. Having taken it upon himself, Mosca had researched every social media account, call log, and GPS log associated to Rahina. For the most part, he could identify the familiar faces of her core group of friends. Slowly, she and Mario made their way to the bar. Tilting their heads, all three men watched as Rahina got the bartender’s attention. Pushing herself up onto the bar, Rahina leaned boldly over as she spoke directly into the bartender’s ear through the loud music, inadvertently causing her ass to poke out as she leaned over the wide bar. It was the equivalent of throwing steak into a cage of starving dogs, Mosca thought. Around her men automatically turned to visually feast on the provocative sight. Nodding, the bartender finally acknowledged whatever request made allowing her to hop back down to the floor. Curious, Mosca leaned forward a little further towards the glass and watched the bartender’s movements. Setting out a row of twenty shot glasses, he filled them all with the familiar clear liquid. Mosca restrained another groan. It was becoming very apparent he was going to have to go down there and shadow the girl himself. There was no way he was taking any chances with this size crowd and her now drinking.
A chuckle from Roman refocused his attention. Roman smirked as he watched the bartender take four separate shot glasses and fill them discreetly with water behind the counter, adding tiny wedges of lime to them before placing them with the rest of the glasses. Her group of friends cheered as they grabbed the liquor while Rahina and her friend Mario grinned knowingly at each other as they downed the fake vodka.
“Clever,” Dimitri said with evident relief.
The party went on beneath them, and Roman finally turned from his observation spot to pour himself a drink. Occasionally, the sound of the radio feed would interrupt the stillness of the room as Nico and the rest of Mikhail’s crew relayed info back-and-forth regarding the overall status of the party: a few drunk falls, arguments that nearly turned into brawls, uninvited guest angry that they weren’t allowed admittance, and far more. The overall mood of the club was becoming tired, drunk, and a little disorderly. By now Mikhail had made it back upstairs and sat in the leather chair next to Roman, both now talking in low tones. Although he was still unsmiling, Roman appeared relaxed as he watched the security feeds while occasionally looking to Mikhail.
Mosca spotted the man first. His body tensed at the sight of the familiar face, a face Mosca had only ever seen either on TV or plastered all over social media. It only took a simple web search with the basketball player’s name to see Rahina’s name next to his as previously dated and numerous posts on gossip blogs speculating on the reason for their breakup. The tall player made his way through the crowd easily. His target destination was clear as he glanced up to the golden figure leaning on the balcony railing with her back to the crowd.
Standing next to him in front of the window, Dimitri paused mid-drink in glared at the scene. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He whispered loud enough for only Mosca to hear. “Mosca,” Dimitri hardly turned from the window, but Mosca could see the grim determination in his captain’s eyes. “Go take care of it before it becomes an issue.”
Nodding, Mosca moved quietly and quickly to the door.
“Let it play out,” Roman’s lethally soft command stilled him.
Dimitri shot Roman a perplexed look, wondering what the man was playing at. Roman gave no indication to his thoughts, while Mikhail who sat at his left shared a weary look with Dimitri.
“But do let in our guest, Mosca,” and for the first time in weeks, a small smile graced Roman’s lips.
Confused, but knowing better to question, Mosca reached for the door handle just as a quick knock sounded from the other side. Opening the door, Mosca felt his body tighten at the sight of the woman Nico escorted through the threshold. Mosca had only seen pictures of her when he collected data on Rahina, and he had heard only bits and pieces of the conversation she had with Roman the night of their family dinner. Stepping back to allow her to pass, Mosca watched her with a sense of awareness that felt like napalm entering his bloodstream. If Mosca considered Rahina beautiful than that surely meant her older sister Rubina was utterly devastating.
He could do nothing but stare at the woman, her sharp eyes took in the room with shrewd assessment briefly landing her dark gaze on each man like a gunshot, or at least that was how it felt to Mosca. The gold slinky dress she was wearing fit her in a way that made him want to readjust his dick and straighten his hair at the same damn time.
Turning, she cast Nico a withering look that only made the man smile. “You were supposed to be escorting me to my sister, not to him,” she pointed in Roman’s direction as if she was referring to a pile of trash.
Dimitri and Mosca flinched simultaneously while Roman’s eyes lit up with actual delight.
Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Nico took a step back shaking his head in amusement. “I was just following orders.”
Crossing her arms, Rubina glared at Roman. “What do you want? Why am I here?”
Setting his glass on the table with a clink, Roman stood to his full height and slowly walked towards long viewing window of the club.
“Simply to present you a choice?”
Pulling her head back with skepticism, Rubina tightened her arms defensively. “What kind of choice and why?”
Turning from the window, Roman fixed her with a look so intense and a smile so devious it stilled every man in the room. “Because I know how much Rahina values your opinion and I realized that I would prefer to have you on my side instead of against me.”
Rubina snorted, and Mikhail smiled at her boldness. “Well it’s too late for that, the damage is done because you’re an asshole,” apparently done with the conversation she turned to leave. “I’m going to find…”
“You don’t want to hear my offer?”
“No,” she snapped over her shoulder as she reached for the door handle.
Picking up the remote to the monitor, Roman pointed and pressed the button staring at the screen with a cold smile as he spoke. “So, you’re okay with Rahina going back to Calvin Masters?”
Rubina froze, her body going rigid at the sound of the Celtic’s point-guard’s name. Turning around, her gaze looked up to see all eight monitors now showing the same feed. The room was quiet as she walked closer to the monitors staring at the feed with growing irritation. Standing on the balcony above the crowded dance floor, Rahina faced the giant basketball player with her hands folded across her chest as she spoke angrily to Calvin. Tall, athletic, rich, and good-looking Calvin was the focal point of nearly every woman’s stare. Even without the sound, the argument was easy-to-understand: Calvin was pleading his case. With well-placed smiles and a slow advance, they all watched as he ignored Rahina’s angry scowls and pushed himself into her space until he was close enough to place his hands on to her exposed hips.
Having seen enough, Rubina whipped around towards Roman. “Well,” she yelled. Thrusting a hand towards the screen. “Are you going to do something or just stand and watch him sweet talk her into another worthless fiasco of a relationship?”
Turning towards her, Roman gave her awaiting look. “I may not look it, but I am a very strategic man, Rubina. And my first plan of attack is to take down Rahina’s only outside defense, which is you.”
“What? Why?” She exclaimed clearly shocked at his honesty.
“Because from what I can tell there is only one person’s opinion Rahina actually listens to,” Roman answered dryly. “And that is you.”
Chewing on her bottom lip with a scowl, Rubina glanced back at the screen. Rahina had her hands against Calvin’s chest in a halfhearted attempt to push him away as he leaned down to whisper into her ear.
“Go
d, I hate him,” she said through clenched teeth.
“As do I,” Roman responded with a warped sense of cheerfulness that Mosca knew to be wary of.
Not taking her eyes from the scene on the monitor, Rubina's shoulders sagged a bit as she reluctantly gave in to the madman standing next to her. “You’re a criminal.”
The statement wasn’t quite a question nor an accusation, but Roman answered with twisted good nature. “That I am.”
“You’re dangerous,” she said as if reminding herself of the fact.
Roman simply smiled, that large familiar smile that had been missing for weeks now, a smile that should have set the room on edge but only filled the men that knew him well with the flooding sense of relief. Thank God, he was back Mosca thought without an iota of guilt. Mikhail even relaxed in his seat at the silent realization and whipped out his phone, most likely to text Alexei the update.
“Indeed,” Roman replied.
Clenching her fists at her sides, she turned and faced Roman. “But I hate Calvin more, he is a cheating lying piece of shit.”
“Hate does not even begin to cover what I am currently keeping in check,” Roman confessed, staring back at the screen.
Completely giving in, Rubina let out an exhausted sigh. “Then what are you waiting for, please go and stop that,” she gestured to the screen. “Before she does something stupid.”
As if he was a hound of hell finally set free, Roman walked towards the door.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Rubina called out just as he opened the door. Turning to look back at her, his eyes glowed in amusement as they clashed with the intensity of hers. “I promise if you hurt her, you will regret making an enemy of me.”
Every man’s face in the room except for Roman’s lifted in surprise at the temerity.
Non-pulsed Roman smirked. “I can honestly say I believe you.”
Chapter 10
Rahina did not like the way Calvin was looking at her. His caramel colored eyes were looking at her with a much undeserved possession she did not appreciate. There was once a time she thought that his eyes were so beautiful she had often found herself daydreaming silly thoughts of what their children’s eyes would look like—she was an idiot. Calvin Masters turned out to be a smooth talking, six-foot-nine compulsive liar.
Hardly listening to his empty words of reform and cajoling, Rahina rested her hip against the rod-iron railing and looked him up and down trying to determine what she ever really saw in him. How could someone so juvenile ever end up on her radar? It was like facing an embarrassing memory.
“You can’t just stop loving me that easily,” Calvin continued to try and gain some ground in his argument.
Looking over the railing, she cast a bored eye over the crowd, there were fewer people than there was an hour ago; the party was coming to an end. Smiling, she waved at few friends as they made their way to the door before turning back to Calvin.
“Oh yes I can,” she replied dryly. “I’m a very prideful person, it might not seem that way but let me assure you I am. You walked away from me, Calvin,” she pointed a gold painted nail at him in accusation. “You were the one who told me you didn’t have it in you to be faithful. Coincidently, breaking up with me just before I received private messages from one of your groupies bragging quite proudly, she slept with you and was even so thoughtful she included pictures of your sleeping face.”
Calvin at least had the dignity to wince at the allegation. Running a smoothing hand over his wavy black hair in frustration, the tall player shifted on his feet. “Come on, Rah,” she had to hold back the flinch at the sound of the nickname he used to use, a name she once liked. “Just tell me what to do, tell me how I can fix this.” Stepping forward, he put his hands on her exposed waist. The contact to her skin surprisingly did nothing, no familiar wanting, simply nothing at all.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mario stand from the lounge seat immediately. Rahina knew he had been watching the entire interaction looking for any opportunity to break them apart. Besides from her sister, no one hated Calvin more than Mario. Sparing him a silent but heavily infused glance, she reassured him she had this handled. Because she could honestly say for the first time, she did have this thing with Calvin handled. The exciting ten-month relationship she had with a ballplayer was her first real relationship, her first head-over-commonsense love and though she had gotten past the broken heart portion of it, she could never really admit she was past the hurt until now.
Tilting her head up so that she could look directly in his eyes, she smiled sweetly. His long fingers tightened possessively at her hip at her sudden promising response. “Calvin, listen to me carefully,” she began in a sweet voice. “We do not belong together, and we will never be together. So please stop calling my phone, your number is blocked. I wish you a successful career and have a happy life.” And with a decisive step back, Rahina pulled from his grip and turned away.
Her phone, which was hanging from a cross body gold chain pouch, buzzed at her hip. Checking her phone, she stared disapprovingly at the message. Rubina’s text said it was too crowded and she was taking an Uber back home. Annoyed, Rahina looked around the club noticing the open patchy spots in the slowly thinning crowd. What was Rubina talking about, at this point people were leaving, the party was almost over?!
Attempting to see if she could catch Rubina still at the front of the club, Rahina hurried down the metal stairs all the while typing a scathing reply to Rubina along the lines of betrayal and abandonment on her birthday.
“Rahina!” She heard Calvin’s heavy footsteps behind her on the stairs. “We aren’t done, we are going to finish talking about this.”
“We are finished talking Calvin,” she yelled back as she reached the main floor.
Smiling and thanking her friends that greeted her as she passed by, Rahina squeezed through the remaining milling people. She recognized most of them as friends and loose connections through Mario. Often time she would joke with Mario and accuse him of using her party as really just a party for himself. Making it to the front door, she smiled at the large, presumably Russian, bouncer who stood watchfully next to the door. Since the party was near its last leg, the front door wasn’t nearly as crowded as the exit door on the opposite end of the wall.
She gave the stony-faced man a pleading sweet smile. “Can I exit through this door? I just want to pop out and see if my sister is still here.”
The man looked at her unfeelingly for a few seconds before lifting one meaty arm towards the thick black metal door and swinging it outward.
“Thank you,” she chirped back happily, noticing him raise up a walkie-talkie with his other hand and speaking Russian into it.
Outside, there was an endless river of cars pulling up to the building. One by one, cars stopped alongside the curb and opened their doors to the tired, inebriated partygoers before pulling down to the circular dead-end street and looping back towards the main road. Looking at her phone, Rahina made a sound of annoyance in the back of her throat at her sister’s lack of response to her text.
“Rahina,” Calvin walked up to her still wearing that fake sad look on his face. “Can we please just talk?” He pressed.
Annoyed at her sister for bailing and beyond annoyed with Calvin’s endless attempts at coaxing her back, she turned to face him.
“No, we’re done talking, we have been for months,” the wind blew her hair around her face forcing her to catch her headdress before it hit the ground. Shoving her hair back and away from her face, she glared at Calvin. “And I don’t appreciate you waiting until my birthday party to make this scene.”
Stepping closer, he helped to brush away some of the wild strands of her hair as he grinned. “I’m not making a scene, your hair is.”
Rahina suppressed the urge to smile at the accurate statement. If she showed any sign of weakness, the egotistical bastard would take it and run.
“Look, valet is pulling my car up right now,” he pointed
to the green sports car pulling up in the valet queue. “At least let me take you home, and we will just talk on the way.”
Turning her head in a way so that the wind wouldn’t catch her hair, Rahina’s gaze swept over the front of the club as she thought of the best way to tell Calvin the go to hell. Passing over the various clusters of talking people, her eyes stopped on the impressive stature of one-man— a terrifyingly familiar man. Just like the first time she met him, the invisible force of his presence hit her like a blow to the stomach. Power rolled off the man like a warrior king walking through the killing fields of his victorious battle. Liquid steel eyes stared at her with predatory alertness she had never felt before. Even though they were yards apart, separated by loud talking and smoking people, Roman’s eyes told her what words didn’t have to. He was calling her over. It wasn’t a request or a plea, it was a steel-edged unspoken command.
Nerves twisted in her stomach as she looked away from his gaze. Her breathing increased as she frantically considered her options. She wasn’t ready to see him, was all she could repeat in her head as she absently looked back up towards Calvin.
An idea sprang to life in her mind, probably a poor one but right now it was all she had. “Okay, you can take me to my apartment—but that’s all,” she stressed.
Grinning like a man whose efforts just paid out, Calvin put his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the awaiting car. Rahina didn’t dare look up as she sat in the sports car. Pulling out her phone, she typed a quick text to Mario explaining she was leaving with Calvin and would explain later tonight. Hopping over the side of the convertible’s door, Calvin grinned as he put the powerful car into gear.
“Have I told you how goddamn good you look, baby?” he asked, pulling the car around at the circular end of the street.
Stamping down the surge of immediate regret for choosing to let him take her home, Rahina couldn’t help but look past him towards the club. The spot where Roman was just standing in his stark white button-down shirt and rolled up sleeves—was empty. Practically turning in her seat, Rahina could find no trace of Roman anywhere.
His Smile: A Mafia Romance Page 9