Page 73 of Between Us

Not to say that Roman regretted having married Alessandra. Not now, at least. But ithadbeen a very unpopular decision on Vitaly's part, and the repercussions were quick to make themselves known.

“You need to show me a little more respect,son. The decisions I make—all of them—are for the good of theBratva. You can't blame a few men's poor thinking on me.”

“If anything happens to her because of you...”

“You'll what?” Vitaly challenged, his gaze turning hard.

More words of anger sat on the tip of Roman’s tongue, ready to spill free. But those words also conveyed a threat, and Roman knew better than that.

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” he said with finality, letting Vitaly take it as he willed.

His father watched him for a long moment. For whatever reason, he decided to disregard his blatant disrespect as he grabbed the tumbler from the desk and brought it to his mouth. He drained the whole thing in one drink.

Roman slid a look toward Ivan's head on the floor. “Did you talk to Davit?”

“He swears he had nothing to do with it.”

“What were our men doing in his territory?”

Vitaly waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Who knows. Maybe they felt safe there knowing we are now on better terms with the Armenians.”

“I don't buy it. I think Davit is involved. He wants to get back at Rossetti, and what better way to do it than go after his daughter?”

“Perhaps, but we don't have any evidence. You said it yourself, none of his men were there, therefore we can't put the blame on them.”

“You do realize that if Davit is in on this, he broke his promise not to touch her. If that isn't the equivalent of spitting in our faces, I don't know what is.”

Eyes the color of steel pinned Roman with a severe look. “Do I look stupid to you? I know the implicationsof him being involved. What do you want me to do—confront him about it? Risk alienating the Armenians after getting them to trust us again? I have a plan, and I won't let you ruin it, Roman, so get your shit together. The girl is unharmed.”

Roman fought hard against the indignation rising in his chest. “Yeah, unharmed but traumatized for fucking life.”

Vitaly let out a sound of disdain from the back of his throat, and for the first time in many years, Roman felt the compulsion to punch him in the face.

Ignoring the incensed look on his son's face, Vitaly frowned down at the traitors' heads lying at their feet. “This looks bad on the organization. I need to make sure no more of our men get any bright ideas. The Armenians are like hyenas; once they smell blood, they will not hesitate to attack. And if the Italians turn on us, we are finished.”

Roman couldn't be bothered to listen to Vitaly's musings. After all, itwashis job to fix the issues he had created with his greediness and overinflated ego.

“Yeah, you do that,” he said, not even pretending to care. He headed for the door. “I'm going home.”

“Get someone to clean up this mess,” Vitaly called, but he just closed the door behind him, not answering.

Buttoning up his suit jacket, Roman flexed his neck from side to side, trying to ease the tightness in his muscles. He needed to be calm for when he got home to his wife.

On his way out, he passed two men lingering near the front entrance of the club, smoking cigarettes and having a conversation. They saluted him respectfully, getting out of the way so he could exit.

He nodded in greeting. For a split second, he considered opening his mouth and telling them to head to his father's office to dispose of the mess.

Instead, he walked right past them and stepped out into the warm night air.

???

Andrei and Alek left as soon as Roman made it back home. After locking up, he made his way upstairs to the master bedroom. Alessandra was lying on her side of the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing even. The room was brightly lit and the TV played a movie in the background on low volume.

Seeing that she seemed peaceful, he dimmed the lights then walked into the bathroom for a shower, removing his clothes as he went. He tossed everything into the laundry hamper, making a mental note to get rid of them in the morning, before Alessandra could see the blood splattered on them and be reminded of today.

He took his time in the shower, letting the hot water relax his muscles and soak away the tension that hadn't left his body since he stepped out of the restaurant so many hours ago.

Grabbing a fresh pair of boxer briefs from the dresser, he pulled them on and walked over to the bed. He tried to slide in gently, but as soon as the mattress moved, Alessandra’s eyes popped open. She blinked rapidly, her body immediately going into a state of acute stress.

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