They stayed like that for what felt like a long time.
“Will you come to bed?” Alessandra murmured eventually, her voice heavy with tiredness. “It's late.”
Roman grabbed his glass of whiskey, offering her some. She shook her head.
“Let me finish this first.”
She stood. “I'll wait for you upstairs.”
When she was gone, he let out a sigh as he stared at the closed door. His earlier thoughts returned with a vengeance, obliterating the little calm brought on by Alessandra’s presence.
He downed the last of his drink and poured himself another. He was going to regret it in the morning, but for now, he needed the alcohol-induced numbness that seeped into his muscles and appeased some of his mind’s restlessness.
Discarding the empty glass on the desk, Roman left the office and ambled up the stairs through the darkness. Alessandra was propped up against the headboard, eyes lowered to the book in her hands.
He stretched down beside her, one arm tucked under his head. “What are you reading?”
“A romance novel.”
He let out an amused breath, something on the glossy cover catching his attention. He reached over to close the book and get a better look at it. Some jacked guy with full sleeves and wearing only a leather vest stared back at him from under a heavy gaze. He looked like a fucking tool, but Roman refrained from commenting on that.
“Any good?”
Her cheeks flushed, and his amusement grew at seeing her get embarrassed over book porn. “Kind of. He's the member of an MC based in California, and she’s this girl from a rich family. The plot is interesting.”
“I didn't know you liked this stuff.”
“It’s just to pass the time.”
“Mmm.”
He knew that she needed an activity to keep her occupied now that her driving lessons were over, but with the current situation, he wanted her at home where she was safe. He’d buy her a thousand romance books if it made her happy and gave her something to do.
Exhaustion set in, and he closed his eyes, the alcohol in his system kicking in at fully force.
He felt Alessandra shift in bed, and a moment later, the room was encased in darkness. She snuggled closer to him and rested her head in the crook of his arm.
“Good night,” she said quietly.
“Night', baby,” he mumbled tiredly, and was asleep within seconds.
???
“This is a fucking mess,” Stepan concluded from across the room. He stood with his hands in his pockets, facing the shelves filled with colorful liquor bottles that were suspended above the bar unit.
Roman raised his eyes from the computer screen, rubbing them with two fingers. They'd been in that office for almost an hour, discussing, analyzing, strategizing.
“Any news of Oleg's whereabouts?”
“He's been keeping low. Word got out that he's staying in his penthouse in Albany Park.” Stepan turned around to face him. “That son of a bitch is using the attack to turn men against you, and you keeping quiet isn’t helping. It has everyone talking, and nothing good at that.”
Roman ran his tongue across his bottom lip, fighting a fresh wave of agitation. “I'm aware.”
“What are you waiting for, then? We already have confirmation the car belongs to Rossetti. What more do you want?”
What he wanted was fucking peace of mind and a good night’s sleep. Since that wasn’t in the cards for him anytime soon, he let his gaze fall back to the computer's screen. Evidence of Nero Rossetti’s betrayal mocked him from behind a grainy, zoomed-in picture.
The test Roman had to pass was too harsh—even for an aspiring Bratva boss. It was either his position in the organization and the safety of his family, or his wife's happiness. Despite knowing which was the right choice, the decision weighed heavily on his conscience.