“It really isn’t.”
“I know!” Vlad said, frustration and regret lacing his voice. “It’s just—there’s something about that kid that makes all my men agitated, and I’m not an exception.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. He had an inkling what had his men so agitated. It wasn’t even the boy’s pretty face or blowjob lips. It was the air of innocence about him. The urge to dirty him up would be nearly irresistible to men who didn’t have a shred of innocence left.
On one hand, it was a relief to know he wasn’t the only one affected by the boy, but on the other…it was clear that leaving Luke Whitford in the care of his men may not be a good idea if they were so easily influenced by the captive to the point of forgetting their orders. It was dangerous. Roman surrounded himself with only the best men, but he was aware few had his self-control. Some inebriated idiot might be too susceptible to the boy’s pretty lips and doe eyes.
“Are you saying you can’t control your men?” Roman said in a low-pitched voice.
Vlad gulped. “I’m saying I can’t control them around the kid,” he replied with a grimace. “No matter what I threaten them with, when they get bored or drunk, they want to have fun. And the boy looks…” Vlad licked his lip. “No homo, but he looks fucking beautiful all beaten up and bruised.”
Roman’s fingers twitched. “Is that so?” He stared at the fire cracking in the fireplace. That boy was dangerous. If he could get even his normally unflappable head of security so agitated…
“Roman Danilovich?” Vlad said tentatively.
He looked up. “I’m disappointed in you, Vlad.”
His jaw tightening, Vlad nodded briskly, his beefy body tense and wary.
Roman went silent for a while. He always enjoyed this part. Let him stew for a bit.
“I expect that such…a lapse of judgment will never happen again,” he said at last.
Vlad relaxed, breathing out. “It won’t. I promise.”
“Not good enough,” Roman said. “Whitford’s son will be moved to the room adjoining mine.”
Vlad’s eyes widened. “What—but it’s a security risk—”
“You know what’s a security risk, Vlad?” Roman said cuttingly. “When my head of security gets too fucking distracted at work.”
Vlad flinched. “I promise it won’t—”
“Your promises are not enough. I’m not punishing you only because you have proved in the past that I can trust you with my life. But now you proved I can’t trust you or your men with Whitford’s brat.” Roman pursed his lips. “Get the room secure and have the boy moved into it. From now on, until you prove to me I can trust you with this, I will be the only one who has contact with the boy. Dismissed.”
Vlad nodded and left with a chastised look on his face.
As soon as the door shut after him, Roman leaned back in his chair and breathed out, unclenching his fist.
Goddammit.
This was the last thing he needed.
Chapter 5
His head throbbing with a headache, Roman was in a foul mood when he entered his room later that night. He’d lost a great opportunity to increase his profit in Central Europe just because he hadn’t been there in person to see the deal through. Couldn’t they do anything without his hand-holding?
Sighing, he went to the en-suite and got some Tylenol from the first aid kit. Swallowing the pills, he stiffened at the noise in the adjoining room.
Of course—the boy. He’d almost forgotten about his order to move him there.
Roman unlocked the door, pushed it open, and entered the room.
Luke Whitford was sitting on the bed, rubbing his stomach. He looked up, his eyes widening when he saw Roman. Otherwise, he didn’t even flinch. Vlad had been right about one thing: the boy wasn’t prone to useless hysterics.
“Thank you,” Luke said. “For the food. They fed me before bringing me here.” He sank his teeth into his lip, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “Why am I here? Your people didn’t bother to explain.”
Roman walked over. “What makes you think I will?” The thought was amusing.
The boy cocked his head to the side, looking up at him almost shyly, his thick dark eyelashes framing his deep brown eyes. “Nothing,” he said, chewing on his lip. “But I’d like to know. Please.”
So polite. Too polite.
Roman’s lips thinned. He laid his hand on Luke’s head and tugged on the golden curls. “Do you take me for a fool?” he said, knowing his grip must be painful. Tears of pain welled in the boy’s eyes.
“I-I don’t understand,” Luke whispered.
Roman glared at those wobbling lips. “Do you really think a few soft-spoken words are enough to manipulate me?”
The boy dropped his eyes, guilt and disappointment flashing through his face. “I’m not very good at it, am I?” he said with a wince and a crooked smile.
“No,” Roman said. The boy had been too well-behaved and innocent for that to be real.