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He shrugged. “I do it for pleasure, of course.”
“Of course. What a wonderful hobby,” Angela replied dryly.
“I’ve always thought so,” he agreed. “Now, what do you say? This place, for a few hours of your time every month.”
Angela chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, thinking things over. “Let’s say I agree. What am I supposed to do? Watch you kill people as I wait to secure enough money to save people?”
Roman rolled his eyes. She was like a dog with a bone. “I don’t spend all day shooting people. Sometimes I stab them,” he pointed out.
Angela snorted. “Charming.”
“I am, actually,” he confirmed. “Multitudes of women have told me so.”
“I’m sure they have. Insipid twits who value power over depth,” Angela said scornfully.
“I have depth,” he reminded her. He leaned in close enough to smell her hair. It smelled like a tropical island. “I can go very deep. Are you saying you’ve forgotten so soon?”
Her jaw firmed, and she took a step back. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that. It’s been, what, two minutes? That doesn’t bode well for you keeping your word.”
“We agreed you wouldn’t prostitute yourself for me. Not that we wouldn’t speak of our history,” he corrected her. He was willing to bend a little where she was concerned because, despite his better judgment, he liked her. But he wouldn’t let her get away with bullshit. “Stop being such a bitch, Angel.”
She glared at him for a moment before groaning. She scrubbed her hands over her face before peeking at him through her fingers. “You’re right. I’m being a bitch.”
“Are you telling me we finally agree on something?” he asked in mock surprise. “And what a thing to agree on!”
“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while you can,” Angela grumbled. But she was smiling.
“So, you’ll do it?” Roman pressed.
She looked around one last time, her gaze falling on a female teenager sitting on an old bench. Her shoulders slumped a little, but her expression was determined when she faced him once again. “I’ll do it.”
Roman wanted to jump for joy, but he reminded himself his kill count was much too high for such shenanigans. “Excellent. Stop by Omertà tonight, and I’ll give you a tour of the building. I’ll have Luca set you up with the necessary access passes.”
He received a nod before she stalked away. He watched the sway of her hips and the roundness of her ass, and his mouth curved. His smile widened when he noticed Sister Philomena giving him a thumbs-up from the door of the building. He couldn’t help it—he returned the gesture, feeling oddly awesome.
CHAPTER NINE
Angela followed Roman’s truly great ass from floor to floor as he gave her a personal tour of the Omertà complex.
It was massive, spanning sixty stories and taking up half a block in the center of the city. It was all windows and steel, making it look like something from The Matrix. The bottom forty floors were rented out to companies and individuals ranging from solicitors to bodyguards, as well as Roman’s own legit enterprises.
“We offer personal protection services, cyber security, investment advice and opportunities, as well as martial arts training,” Roman was saying as they made their way to the fifth floor where the public gym was.
“And these are all legitimate businesses?” Angela asked, a little wide-eyed. She hadn’t realized how big of an operation Roman had.
“For the most part,” Roman hedged. “Yes. We’ve even worked with the local SWAT team in the past. Some of the best defense experts in the industry work and are trained here.”
Angela hummed, looking around at the large, well-equipped gym. It was busy, but the atmosphere was good. “And for the other part?” she asked.
Roman shrugged negligently. “Working in security, real estate, and importation comes with certain work perks.”
“I’m sure,” she replied sarcastically. She knew Roman owned the entire block that Omertà was on, as well as many other coveted parcels of land, including the marina and surrounds. It was necessary, she supposed, if you wanted to ship things illegally to have your own marina.
She felt a pang of guilt for allowing herself to associate with Roman and his men. Perhaps she was making a mistake? But if she could save the Lighthouse, wouldn’t it be worth it? She groaned internally. As long as she was careful to keep Roman at arm’s length, she would be fine. He hadn’t touched her since she had lost her damned mind in her kitchen and allowed him to screw her against the wall. She couldn’t so much as chop vegetables now without thinking of the man’s spectacular pierced dick.
“Importation, huh? Weapons, drugs, or people?” she questioned before she could stop herself. They had been making their way to the elevator, but Roman stopped so suddenly she nearly slammed into his muscled back.
“I do not now, nor have I ever, peddled human flesh. People are not commodities,” he told her, glaring.
