Page 57 of Between Us

“Yes, really.”

“Wow.”

He moved his gaze from the road to glance at her. “What?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“Cut it out. When did I ever forbid you from doing anything? As long as it’s reasonable, and you’re not at any risk, we can talk about it.”

Alessandra let out a soft sigh. “I know, and I was joking. I appreciate it.”

Roman was silent for a minute. He kept his gaze forward, but his hand tightened around her thigh. “I think I know a way for you to show your appreciation of such a fine husband like myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“Pray tell.”

“I’d rather show you instead.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his cock.

Alessandra laughed, but she played along. She squeezed the bulge gently then rubbed her hand over it until it started to harden.

Roman groaned. “Fuck. Maybe this was a bad idea.”

She laughed again. Served him right.

23

Roman had just dropped Alessandra off at home when his phone lit up with an unknown number. Blowing a cloud of smoke out the side of his mouth, he brought the phone to his ear and answered. “Leskov.”

“Roman,” the caller said. “It's Matteo Rossetti.”

He paused beside his car parked in the driveway and grabbed the cigarette between two fingers. “How did you get this number?”

“I have my ways. Is this a bad time?”

His eyes narrowed in the direction of the house. Had Alessandra given this asshole his number? “What do you want, Rossetti?”

There was a moment of silence, then Matteo spoke again, his voice lower. “I heard about the incident with my sister and Luca.”

Roman fought to keep a leash on the sudden burst of anger starting in his chest and spreading towardthe fingers he’d clenched around the cigarette. The unwanted memory of that day was still too fresh in his mind. “Have you now.”

“Alessandra hasn't picked up any of my calls today. I swear to God, if you've touched a hair on her head—”

“You’llwhat?” Roman cut him off sharply, that anger brewing inside of him growing more potent at the man's audacity. “She's my wife. I can do whatever I goddamn please to her.”

“Listen here,stronzo. If my sister doesn't call me back within the hour, you are a dead man.”

Roman chuckled darkly, though he wasn’t amused. “By whose hand? Yours? You wouldn't make it past the fucking gates.” He forced his voice to sound steadier as he took another drag from his smoke. “I better not find out you had anything to do with your friend's little stunt. The only reason he's still breathing is because he's not worth the war his death would cause. Don't fucking test me, Rossetti.”

Before Matteo could utter another word, Roman hung up and tossed the phone on the passenger seat. He continued to smoke thoughtfully for another minute, his eyes glued to the windows to their bedroom where he knew Alessandra was.

His phone started to ring again, but he ignored it. After throwing the cigarette butt to the ground, he climbed inside the car and drove off.

By the time he made it to Beluga2, his conversation with Matteo Rossetti was already pushed to the back of his mind. He picked a spot in the almost empty parking lot and shrugged on his suit jacket as he exited the car. Walking to the rear entrance, he found his brother and three other men unloading crates of alcohol from theback of a truck.

Each of the two nightclubs hosted a special event every month. This Friday, Beluga2 was organizing a foam party, complete with bikini-donning dancers and a rain shower of champagne to top it all off at the end.

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