Page 90 of Destined for the Devil
Sam let me go immediately. With purposeful strides, Roman closed the distance between them in seconds and pulled back momentarily, only to swing and land a colossal punch in Sam’s face.
Sam flew back and hit the ground with a loud thud, sliding a few feet on the snowy sidewalk. My jaw fell open just as I sat down on the cold ground, unable to look away. Roman approached again, this time kicking Sam in the stomach. He folded without protest, but Roman delivered a second blow, harder this time.
He crouched down over Sam, pressing the barrel of his gun to Sam’s forehead. "You touch her again,” Roman growled, “and I’ll cut your fingers off and feed them to you. Or blow your brains out. You decide."
And then, the best moment of my life happened. Roman turned back and rushed to where I was helplessly sitting in the snow. He crouched down and slid his hands onto my waist, helping me up, never breaking eye contact.
"Are you okay, baby?" he asked me so gently, as if we'd been together all this time.
Unable to look away, I stared up at him, tears spilling over. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. I missed him so fucking much. After catching a glimpse of him again, I wondered how I was able to survive all this time.
I forgot all about Sam and about everything else that was on my mind. I just sawhim, and he was all I wanted.
41
Hochesh Ostatsia Na Uzhin?
Roman
Mylifehadnomore meaning after the day I lost Isla in September. She ran away from me, taking my whole heart, my whole soul. All of me.
I was so goddamn broken.
Yeah, I cried like a baby. I stumbled back to my hotel room, about to reach for the bottle again, but then I remembered my lunch with Kirill.
I had to fucking pull myself together.
I stayed in New York another month. I worked at Kirill's, and I monitored her every move. I knew who her new friends were, where she lived, what time she came home, and where she worked.
Sometimes I would watch her myself, but...very rarely. Every time I saw her, I descended into madness.
Beneath all that, I was digging up everything we worked so hard to bury. I needed to show Isla that her father was just like me. I didn't kill him out of cruelty or because I wanted to hurt someone. I took him out because that was the game, and he played it.
If it wasn't him, it would have been me. Both he and I knew we lived in a zero-sum game. Winner takes all; winner takes everything. And there could only be one.
Getting all the documents together turned out to be way more challenging than I had anticipated. I couldn't call on Sergei for help, and Denis was a fucking idiot. On top of that, he had left for Russia for an undetermined amount of time.
To make matters worse, my stay in New York raised many questions with Sergei. "You there for the girl?" He questioned me over the phone one day, about two weeks into my absence from L.A.
"No. I'm here to discuss something with Kirill."
But he didn’t buy it, of course. He was a fucking snake, but my hands were tied—I couldn’t take him out in broad daylight, no reason, no cause. We had been partners for decades; such a power grab would set the whole business ablaze.
When I called him to make up all those months ago, he apologized for what he’d said to Isla, but he didn’t deny it. He brushed it off, saying it was a joke and she took it too seriously. He said he was just complimenting her on her beauty.
Fucking scumbag.I’d sit in my bed late at night and fantasize about slitting his throat. And during the day, I was taking every possible step in the background to truly remove him from my life. Slowly, so as not to raise any questions, I was altering all the incorporation documents on all the companies we owned, removing his name one by one.
Every time I’d fly back to L.A., I’d have another secret meeting with a partner or one of our trusted city and state officials. I was setting the stage for Sergei’s departure, warming them up to the idea that he was planning to step away from the business—that he was planning to focus on family and his health. Planning to go off the grid.
And when in New York, I’d spend all day spying on Isla, getting constant updates about her. She was moving on with her life. She was looking for an apartment, so I made sure both her realtors disappeared on her. I threatened them both, and she finally called Mia after seeing the flyers that were delivered to her door, also set up by me.
Mia had no idea that Kirill and I set it up, but I wanted to make sure Isla was in good hands. Isla working with Kirill’s girlfriend was the safest and best outcome.
Weeks slithered by painfully slowly, but I was close—I had gathered almost enough to send her the information. Enough that she wouldn’t have any doubts. I flew back to New York for what felt like the hundredth time and had the package delivered the same evening I landed.
There was no way of telling how she would react—it was a risk, but I was willing to take it, willing to doanythingto have a chance with her again. My intentions were to show her that I nevereverwanted to hurt her. In fact, I’d given Dave an unprecedented number of chances to back down. Maybe that's why he didn't…he thought he could push back forever.
Isla surprised me when she walked into the lobby of that high-rise—I didn’t expect her to meet with John. I received a text with her location, all of me filling up with admiration for her. She was taking this seriously, wanting to double-check with someone who was there, wanting to get to the bottom of it.
