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Roman shook his head, expertly flipping the omelet. “I refuse to get drawn back into that world.”
Angela stepped back, watching him carefully. “Aren’t you already in it?”
Roman switched off the gas and walked with the hot pan to the table. He pushed the food onto their plates and dumped the pan in the sink. His eyes met hers. “What I’ve built here is very different from the mafioso, Angel. You wouldn’t recognize me in that setting.”
She knew what he meant. But she didn’t buy it. She knew who he was, warts and all. “I would. You’ll always just be Roman to me. My Roman.”
His stiff shoulders relaxed, and he held out a chair for her, but before she could sit, he tangled a fist in her hair, using it to tilt her hair back. He kissed her, a hint of teeth and tongue making an appearance in his exuberance. She was about to drop her robe when her stomach rumbled. Loudly.
Roman pulled back, breathing hard. He kissed her one last time before saying, “Sit. Eat.”
She pouted a little but did his bidding. All the exercise of the night before—in bed and then in the shower—had made her hungry. “Why did you decide to become a mafia for hire business if you hate the industry, so to speak?” she asked.
Roman chewed his food and took a sip of his orange juice before he answered. “It wasn’t deliberate. Well, not completely,” he amended. “When I left the family, I killed a lot of people. I made a lot of enemies. Surrounding myself with ex-communicated mafia, mercenaries, and motorcycle clubs ensures a certain level of safety. Plus, my reputation attracts certain types of businessmen and women.”
“Criminals,” Angela supplied, plowing through her food.
“Yes, to put it bluntly.” Roman saluted her with his fork. “Criminals need to work, too. But I also found there were regular people who needed solutions to their problems that couldn’t be found by regular means. Sometimes the justice system is straight-up fucked. I’m able to overcome that. And it’s very lucrative. There was a huge gap in the market for my type of services when I first moved here.”
Angela was intrigued, hanging on his every word. “Vigilante justice?”
“Sometimes,” Roman allowed. “And other times, it’s good old-fashioned revenge. I honestly don’t care which.”
She finished the last of her delicious omelet at the same time as Roman. Pushing her plate away, she picked up her coffee. “You’re helping people, even saving them and protecting them. And all the while, you’re stealing and killing. And enabling others to do the same. Why do both? No judgement. I’m genuinely curious. You don’t need the money.”
“I don’t, no. It’s not about the money,” Roman confirmed, leaning back in his chair.
“Habit?” Angela guessed.
“Partially, I suppose. But it’s more about feeding the beast. Keeping it at bay.”
She paused, her mug halfway to her mouth. “What beast?”
His caramel eyes latched onto hers. “The beast within. Don’t think this romantic, loving man is all there is to me, Angel.”
Angela frowned, placing her coffee mug onto the table a little too forcefully and making the liquid inside splash over the rim. “Didn’t we just cover this? I know that. I’m not delusional. I don’t love a make-believe image of you, Roman. I love you. The man.”
“And the beast?” he questioned, his face shut down. “Because I have one, Angel. He sleeps most of the time, but he needs feeding. That’s the reason for running guns. That’s the reason for allowing drugs and weapons onto the streets. That’s the reason I’m able to gut a man without blinking. The beast needs something to do so it won’t consume the man.”
She was silent for a moment, not wanting to speak too flippantly. This was clearly important to Roman. And something that he was concerned about it. It’s funny, she mused. I thought I was the insecure one. But it seemed Roman needed the same reassurances she did. “I get it.”
His expression didn’t change and his posture remained stiff. “Do you? Do you really, Angel?”
Angela pushed her chair back and walked around the table. She sat on his lap, straddling him so she could see his face. “Yes. I really do. We are all more than just one thing, Roman. Light and dark. Good and bad. It’s called balance. And I happen to think we balance each other perfectly. I do yoga. You do torture. No biggie.”
“No biggie,” he repeated, shaking his head. But his expression finally morphed back into the smitten man. He gripped her backside through the satin robe. “Woman, I’m about to fuck you so hard.”
Angela literally whimpered. “Yes, please...”
After kissing her senseless and rocking his hard dick against her core, he pulled back. “Damnit, you’re such a temptation.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly for a few moments before she steadied her breathing. “Why do I hear a silent but in there?”
“Because now that we’ve finished breakfast, there’s something else I need to discuss with you. Something important,” Roman told her, tucking her hair behind her ear.
She leaned back a bit. “I get the feeling I’m not going to like this,” Angela said, mapping his face and trying to find a clue as to what he was talking about.
Roman sighed, shaking his head. “Probably not. But it’s necessary.”
