Her plea fell on deaf ears, and it irritated her how little he took her wishes into account. The slight ring carried over the speaker after he punched in what she assumed was Sevastyan’s number.
Another thought entered her mind. Oh, God. How did she not see this before? It had to be Sevastyan. He was on to her. Her door would have been like a wet paper towel to any of his men. Could he have known she took the pages from his book? The blood drained from her face and left her cold, shaking. All the time in the world to search her place while he entertained her with a new job and seduced her. She cupped a hand over her mouth. Why did she have to trust so easily? Didn’t she ever learn?
Phone to his ear, Roman held a hand out when she moved to push past him and entered her apartment.
“Wait here. I’m doing one more sweep to be on the safe side.”
As he moved out of sight her phone rang. She edged in and kept an eye on Roman as he moved to the kitchen. He moved by the cabinets where she’d stored the pages she’d stolen.
Her stomach quivered, and she worked her throat past a dry patch that suddenly hindered her ability to speak.
She palmed her phone and on the second ring hit answer. She turned away from Roman as he stomped through her living room and out the back door. “Did you do this, Sevastyan? If there’s something you want to know about me, all you had to do was ask,” she bit out, knowing full well he couldn’t see the pissed-off look on her face. He didn’t have to. It colored her words and dripped so thick he could drown in them.
Ice entered her veins. If tonight she had to throw down and reveal her real purpose, so be it.
“Why the hell would I or any of my men want to break into your home? I’m not in the habit of going behind people’s backs for anything. Now, are you safe? Roman told me everything.”
Of course he did.
She nearly barked out a laugh at the crime bit but held it back just in time. Maybe it was a good thing he did this. She could finally get her answers and get the hell out of here.
“If I’d done it, why would I have Roman take you home? Why would I have given you a job at my side?”
When posed like that she could think of a list of reasons as long as her arm. Revenge. Keeping the enemy close. It was what she would do.
“There’s something you need to understand about me, moya kroshka. When I want something, I take it. I don’t play games or fuck around. Do you hear what I’m saying? My men are the same. We don’t play.”
Yes. No. What did he want from her? “Are you in the habit of getting everything you want?” The question pulled others from the depth of her subconscious too. For instance, what did he want and what did he do with it once he got it?
“Always.” Zero hesitancy came through their connection, and part of her respected his conviction on self-assurance.
As he spoke, she knew deep down this wasn’t done by Sevastyan or his men. This had personal investment written all over it and though she didn’t have much experience dealing with people like the mafia kings—make that zilch—she knew he was telling the truth. He could be guiltier than sin when it came to having a hand in whatever her father was doing with those containers, and all the reason she needed to keep her distance, but she knew for sure this he didn’t do.
She leaned an arm on the broken door frame and found her confidence again. “Why do you keep calling me your little one and the men their sweetheart? I’m neither. It’s confusing.”
“Would you rather we stop?” he asked, voice pitched low. Husky.
Why did he have to ask like that? “Can you tell Roman he can go home now, please?” She used anger and sarcasm to avoid thinking about his question too much. Her answer would probably surprise them both. Besides, she needed to make sure her papers were secure. That no one cracked her passcode and checked her emails to find what she sent to Adryan.
“Only after he’s secured your safety. Not until then.”
Roman returned to the living room and signaled for the phone, his jaw revealing a tic of frustration, impatience. Both, she supposed. Her lips tightened into a thin line of defiance but reluctantly passed it to him. “Here, he wants to talk to you. Then maybe you can leave.”
“I’m wounded you would want me to leave,” Roman threw back, smiling though it held as much humor as she felt.
He put the phone to his ear. “Swept the place. Windows are secured and the back entrance is dark as fuck with a dead end to a neighbor’s back yard with a fence a grandma in a wheelchair could maneuver around. One alleyway four stories down one rickety fire escape.”
Whatever Volkov said made Roman’s brows fall and his eyes shadow to a pitch so dark his blue eyes looked a shade that would scare even the devil. With a gentle touch to her cheek, he excused himself and walked into the back and out of sight and hearing range.
Son of a bitch. If this hadn’t been Sevastyan, then who?
“Understood.”
Roman walked over the debris, cutting off her train of thought, and handed the phone back into her hands. “He wants you, sweetheart.” He came up to stand behind her, his heat welcomed.
She blinked at the statement a couple of times before moving the phone to her ear. “Yes?”
“Roman will stay with you tonight.”