Chapter 7: Roman

Chapter 6 – Julia

I pulled over outside a building with the name “Metro Hospital” written on it in bold font. The engine died down, and I let out a sigh, slumping into the driver's seat as my hands tightened around the steering wheel.

My eyes were shut, lips pressed into a thin line as my chest heaved slowly. It was chaotic in my head, with depressing thoughts of my reality tugging me in every direction and charging my tear glands. My heavy heart was broken, bleeding from the pain that woke me up every morning—a constant reminder of who I was and why I must stay focused on my mission.

From my purse, I withdrew a small photograph of my family, which I carried with me at all times. In it was my dad in a black suit, his right hand wrapped around my mom's slender waist. She was wearing a classy red dress with a charming smile on her lips. In front of them was my younger brother, Tom, and me.

The picture was taken six years ago, so I was much younger then—only fifteen years old. My brother, who was ten at the time, had his arm around my neck, his eyes sparkling with excitement and a wide grin perched on his face. My head was thrown up, as the camera had captured me laughing hard at a joke Tom had made.

As I sat in the car, staring at this photo, my hand flew to my mouth as if to prevent a sob from bursting out. I missed everyone in that picture. I missed them all so much that it made my heart bleed.

My life hadn't always been this sad and pathetic. No. If anything, it used to be so full of joy, laughter, and bliss, all of which were now in the past. I was raised in a home where I never lacked anything, and neither did my younger brother.

Dad was a formidable businessman—a tycoon, one of the most revered and respected individuals in the city. He was the founder and CEO of Gray Consolidated, a successful company renowned for its innovative entrepreneurship and strategic acquisition. Under my dad's leadership, Gray Consolidated was a behemoth admired and feared by many—especially competitors. The company’s success was envied by a lot of people, which put a giant bullseye on the Gray family.

Dad was just a man diligent in his business, but his competitors didn't see him like that; they saw him as a threat.

I might have been just fifteen at the time, but I knew he had enemies. Dad had many associates and business partners, but he always said that he didn't trust them.

His voice echoed in my head: “Not everyone that laughs with you loves you, sweetheart.”

I let out a deep sigh, sinking into the dreadful memory that kept me up late at night.

I woke up to the ear-piercing scream that echoed throughout the mansion. My heart was racing, chest heaving as I sat on my bed, wondering what was going on.

The power was out, and darkness had settled in the house that night. It was pouring outside with occasional clashes of thunder as a strong wind whistled in through my window. The curtains danced to its rhythm, and in a flash of lightning, I caught a glimpse of the wall cock across my bed. It was barely past midnight.

The scream came again, and I recognized that voice. “Tom!” My eyes widened, and I tossed the sheets aside, jumping out of bed.

With that much adrenaline pumping through my veins, I ran faster than I had ever run before, my footsteps pounding against the floor. I got to his door. “Tom!” I banged on it but got no response. I didn't bother checking if it was locked or not; I kicked the damn door open and rushed inside. “Tommy!” I looked around, but he wasn't there.

I heard his terrified scream again, and this time, his voice emanated from our parents’ room. My heart skipped a beat, and without hesitation, I took off reflexively, sprinting down the hallway with reckless abandon.

The darkness was closing in on me, but this was my house, and I was already familiar with the place. I didn't stumble on anything, nor did I miss a step while bolting toward my destination.

I rounded a corner and burst into my parents’ room, only to find Tom on the ground, weeping beside our parents’ lifeless bodies.

“No…” I muttered, frozen in shock as tears stung my eyes. I couldn't feel my legs, and each step seemed impossible. My gaze was fixed on the chilling scene in front of me.

Both my parents lay motionless in the pool of their own blood, their fingers eerily locked together—a testament to their enduring love even in death. Tom was staring at his hands, covered in their blood, as he jerked his head to look at me, his expression a mixture of horror and bewilderment. Those pale blue eyes, once vibrant, now seemed cold and empty, as though the light within had been snuffed out.

My brother was numb, frozen in shock, with lips slightly parted as if in a silent scream.

I sank to my knees, tears rolling down my cheeks with an uncontrollable flow as I dragged myself over to their bodies. “No, no, no….”

I took both heads in my arms, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces. My tears, hot from pain and anger, dropped in their blood as I clenched my fingers into fists. I vowed in that moment to make it my life's mission to find whoever had been responsible for this and make them pay.

Back in the car, I sniffled, drying my tears, my mind filled with rage and resentment.

The authorities had said my parents had committed suicide, but the authorities were either wrong or they were paid to cover up the truth. My parents would never commit suicide; I knew that much. They had two kids whom they loved and adored, and there was no way in hell that they would take their own lives. There was so much to live for, so killing themselves made absolutely no sense at all.

My parents were murdered in cold blood, and it wasn't a robbery gone wrong. No. They were targeted and eliminated. This was someone's doing, someone who saw them as a threat and needed them out of the way. Dad had a lot of enemies—a lot of people who wanted to hurt him. And according to Larry Paige, Dad's lawyer—the only person he ever really trusted outside the family—my parents’ death was an assassination. Larry believed that whoever was responsible for this must be someone high up in the game and that they could come for us, as well.

So I ran.

Changed my last name from Gray to Sawyer.

For six years, I'd been living on my own, fending for myself with only one thing in mind—only one thing keeping me going. Revenge. Sometimes, I sought comfort in the horrors I would invoke on those who hurt me, those who snuffed out the light in my brother's eyes, those who robbed my parents of their lives.

I clenched my fist, my jaw tightening in fury at the thought of Roman Tarasov.

I'd found out about two years ago that my father had an ongoing clash with a Russian Bratva during the period of his murder. He'd had a falling out with Roman Tarasov just a few weeks before his assassination, and after his death, after the fall of the house of Gray—the fall of Gray Consolidated—it was the Tarasov Bratva that benefited the most. I hated Roman so much, and I wouldn't stop until I burned his fucking empire to the ground.

Infiltrating his nightclub was phase one, sleeping with him was phase two, and even with all his influence and power, he wouldn't see what hit him until it was too late.

As my dad used to say, “Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.”

I let out a sigh, slipping the picture back into my purse as I wiped my face with a handkerchief, adjusting the rearview mirror to catch my reflection. For a fleeting moment, I stared at the woman in the mirror whose eyes were blazing with fury before picking up the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat.

The door opened, and I stepped out of the car, squinting at the sunlight. I shut the door, locked it, and headed into the building.

My heels clicked against the linoleum floor as I glided through the reception. “Hey, Suzanne.” I waved at the woman behind the counter, smiling like an angel.

“Hi, Jules.” She grinned widely as she watched me walk through the hallway.

To most people, Julia Sawyer was a nice, caring young woman who would always smile no matter the circumstance. They thought Julia Sawyer was an angel, a lovely individual who couldn't hurt a fly. If only they knew. One of the nurses here had once told me that she wanted to be like me, unphased by whatever challenge I was going through. Of course, I'd smiled and given her some encouraging words.

People loved Julia Sawyer, but they'd fear Julia Gray if they ever met her.

I pushed the door open and walked into the ward where my brother was lying on the bed, the electrocardiogram beeping steadily beside him. The fragrance of the sunflowers and daisies wafted through the air, their vibrant colors defying the somber atmosphere.

My eyes locked on my brother's motionless body as I approached his bed, my expression softening. He just turned sixteen today, and even after six long years, his condition never improved. The incident—the gruesome scene of our parents’ death—had messed him up so badly, and the doctors said he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Tom hadn’t just lost the light in his eyes that night; he’d also lost his voice and his ability to speak or express himself.

I strolled over to the bedside table and gently placed the bouquet of flowers on the surface. My lips trembled as I jerked my head toward the ceiling in an attempt to force back the tears that filled my eyes. Seeing him in this state always broke my heart, and no matter how many times I came here, I would never get used to this sight.

“Hey, Tommy,” I greeted, my voice barely above a whisper as I sat on the edge of the bed, watching his blank face. “Guess what day it is.” I sniffled. “It's your birthday, buddy.” I paused, exhaling slowly as I wiped my tears. “I brought you your favorite flowers: daisies and sunflowers. You can smell them, can't you?”

He just lay there, too numb to speak or move.

I put my head down, fingers rubbing over my eyes as I wept with an aching heart. “Happy birthday, Tommy.” I looked at him, drying my tears with the back of my hand.

My mood switched from anguish to rage in a split second, and my jaw clenched, leaving deep creases on my forehead. “I’ll make him pay, Tommy. He will pay dearly for every tear that I've shed,” I said, taking his hand, my gaze fixed on his vacant eyes. “Roman Tarasov will pay for all the pain he's caused us.” I gently squeezed his fingers. “I promise you that.”

“That’s right, Julia,” a familiar voice spoke from the entrance. “We'll make him pay for all the atrocities he's committed,” he added, his voice dripping with certainty.

I raised my head, my teary eyes meeting with Agent Anderson's gaze.

Oliver Anderson, a portly forty-year-old man with dirty brown hair that complemented his beard, was the FBI agent following up on the death of his parents. He was the one who told me about Roman Tarasov's involvement in the case.

Agent Anderson had spent years searching for ways to bring down the Tarasov Bratva, but they were always two steps ahead of him. They covered their tracks, and although the agency knew they were dirty, there just wasn't enough evidence to put them away for good.

The Tarasov Bratva was very well connected, with countless strings to pull whenever the need arose. Hence, it was next to impossible to bring them all to justice.

Anderson was looking to bring Roman Tarasov and the entire Bratva to justice to make them atone for their sins. But I was in this for revenge. He'd seen my situation as an opportunity to finally get the men he'd spent years chasing after, so he proposed an alliance.

With the agency's approval, we’d embarked on this mission to destroy these cruel men from the inside. He was my backup, always supplying me with relevant information needed for the execution of our plan.

Anderson hated Roman almost as much as I did, but I didn't just hate the man…. I wanted him dead.

Fingers rubbed over my eyeballs in a massaging motion as I sat in my car, parked outside Jupiter.

Don't do this. Just turn around and leave , I thought.

I'd been sitting in here for the past ten minutes, unable to make up my mind—go inside the club or leave. It was a simple decision, yet it wasn't easy. I'd never visited Jupiter twice in the same week because I never had any reason to.

This time, it was different.

Julia had managed to pique my curiosity, and all I wanted was to know her better. I needed to put together pieces of the mystery surrounding her. She was someone I couldn't read—I couldn't understand—and that was the most fascinating thing about her.

It had been ages since I thought about a woman more than once after sex. But here I was, struggling and constantly failing in all my attempts to get this one out of my mind. I simply couldn't. She had me hooked.

“Fuck,” I muttered, angling my head downward as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

No matter how hard I tried to dispel the thoughts of Julia, images of her face, her smile, and her sexy body kept flashing in my head. Even now, I could hear the sound of her delicious moans echoing in the back of my mind.

It wasn't so at first.

Initially, I was doing just fine after the sex, but as time went on, I found myself reminiscing on the events of that night. I'd tried to stop myself, but my efforts were futile.

This woman was living rent-free in my head, and it was both intriguing and concerning at the same time.

Something had snapped open in me that night, and it had been drawing me back to her ever since. Of course, I was stubborn and had resisted the urge to reach out again, but after Kostya asked me about her, it was like the walls I'd built around my heart came crumbling down.

I realized that I was more fascinated by this woman than I would admit. There simply was a lot about her that had caught my attention. She was beautiful, intelligent, and classy.

This woman, a VIP hostess at a nightclub, was able to hold up a reasonable conversation with four businessmen. Her ideas and insight on the concept of sustainable initiatives were mind-blowing and just downright amazing.

I’d always admired beautiful women, especially those with the ability to think outside the box, and she was on a whole different level. Julia had no idea that she'd provided us with a solution to a problem. With that big brain of hers, she was clearly an asset.

But she was also a wonder.

That night, one minute, she was all flirty and naughty; the next minute, she was an innocent little virgin. Like that wasn't enough drama already, she rejected my money with a demeaning scowl on her face and then walked out on me.

She fucking walked out on me.

Her guts, though.

The thought of that alone prompted a chuckle out of me, laced with disbelief, as I massaged my temple.

Everything about Julia was drawing me to her. My attraction to this woman was beyond the physical, beyond sex. She possessed something that kept pulling me in like a fucking moth to a flame.

I let out an exasperated groan, gripping the steering wheel with my chin against my chest. The struggle was real. Inside my mind was a tug of war: go in…don't go in. Both sides were pulling hard as if to rip my mind apart, and neither was willing to back down.

If I turned back now, this feeling of suspense, of being in the dark, would continue to plague me, and it would only be a matter of time before I came back. So why delay the inevitable?

I drew a deep breath.

This is a bad idea, but fuck it.

The door gave a soft click and opened.

I extended a foot out, then exited the vehicle, shutting the door as I headed into the club.

“Boss,” one of the heavily built bouncers at the entrance greeted me, his head slightly bowed in reverence.

My response was a subtle nod as I walked past him, a hand in my pocket.

Inside, I halted by the entrance, taking in the sight in front of me. It was a wild sea of writhing bodies, dancing to the music that thundered through the speakers in a frenzy, hands in the air.

Beams of vibrant colors sliced through the space, revealing glimpses of the dancers’ ecstatic faces—some dampened in sweat.

“Hey, handsome.” A feminine voice laced with a subtle allure stole my attention, and I turned in her direction. Instantly, the whispery charm on her face disappeared. Her brows arched, eyes widening at the realization of who I was. “Shit. I'm sorry, Boss. I had no idea it was you.” Her gaze shifted to the ground.

The woman, a tall blonde with a rose tattoo on her neck, was a hostess who'd mistaken me for a patron.

“Would you like me to be of service to you tonight?” she asked, jerking her eyes toward me.

She was pretty, but my interest was elsewhere, and with a straight face, I replied, “I'm good. Just came around to inspect a few things.”

Her lips pursed, hinting at the subtle gleam of disappointment that washed over her face. “Alright.” She forced a faint grin that barely concealed her dismay, and with that, she walked away.

My eyes darted across the space and soon settled on the bar. I recalled seeing Julia talking with the bartender the last time I was here. He was the perfect candidate to help me fish her out.

I glided over to the bar, taking a seat on a stool in front of the counter.

“Evening, Boss,” he greeted, recognizing me immediately.

I didn't always frequent this place, but all my staff already knew who I was, except for the new recruits who'd walk past me without acknowledging my presence.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, his eyes fixed on me as he expertly wiped a couple of glasses with a white towel.

“Julia, is she around?” I inquired, setting both arms on the countertop.

“Uh….” His brows knitted together in bewilderment. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like me to call her for you?”

I stared at him in silence, and he clearly got the message.

“I'll take that as a yes .” He stepped away, disappearing for about a minute.

She looked amazing tonight, her full-sleeved fitted dress highlighting her curves. Her hair was styled in loose, delicate ringlets that cascaded around her head like a halo of brown curls. However, as she approached me, I realized that her hazel eyes were devoid of the sparkle they held the last time.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, her voice flat and casual as her eyes darted across the space.

She seemed off—avoiding my gaze with a stiff posture and furrowing brows. Her jaw was clenched, her feet constantly tapping against the floor. She was clearly upset about something.

My eyes narrowed as I wondered what exactly was going on. This wasn't the girl I’d met the last time.

“Sit down,” I said, my tone laced with a hint of dominance.

She shot a quick glare at me and hesitated for a moment before reluctantly sitting on the stool next to me.

I leaned forward, my gaze unwavering. “Look at me.”

“I don't want to,” she replied, her voice blunt, arms across her chest.

My brows arched at her response—her arrogance—and I felt a pang of vexation mixed with amusement. “What's with the attitude?” I asked, maintaining my composure.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her blazing eyes settled on me with a cold, empty stare.

What the fuck is going on here? I thought, leaning away from her, my back straightening. “Don't look at me like that. It's condescending.”

Her eyes narrowed, brows raising as she let out a dismissive laugh. “Condescending? That's rich coming from the man who tried to pay me off after taking my virginity.” She glared at me, the words tumbling out of her in a rush.

I scoffed, a sly grin playing on my lips. “So, that's what this is about?”

“I'm not one of your whores, Roman,” she blurted out, her cheeks flushed with anger.

My forehead creased at the way she said my name. I hated the disdain in her voice, and my jaw clenched subtly.

A flicker of irritation swelled up within me, and a scowl settled on my face, hinting at my displeasure.

Her tone was disrespectful, as was the pesky little frown on her face. Although her comments were bold, they were also rude. It was like she was nowhere close to being fascinated by me anymore, and I was starting to regret coming around.

“Okay, right off the top,” I began, my eyes narrowing slightly as I struggled to mask my anger, “I didn't give you that money as some sort of payment for your service ,” I said, air-quoting the word.

“Oh, yeah?” She squinted, her frown deepening as her tone dripped with sarcasm.

I ignored her infuriating attitude and continued. “I like to spoil the women I fancy, and trust me when I tell you I don't fancy many women.” My gaze locked on her face.

She rolled her eyes, tilting her head. Her palm flew to her chest in mock indignation. “Wow! I'm flattered.” Her tone was laced with amusement, and a hint of a smile appeared on her lips. “Thanks for clarifying. I was worried I might not be special enough.”

My chest heaved slowly at her attitude, and my brows furrowed. “You do realize who you're talking to, right?”

She was silent, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before flying back to my face. Her eyes were stern and cold.

I couldn't understand Julia tonight. She definitely knew the type of man I was; every other staff member did, and a vast majority of them feared me. Yet, she had the guts to get on my nerves with her sass.

My scowl deepened, creating more creases on my forehead as I glared at her, my jaw tightening. She was an arrogant little brat who'd just disrespected me without remorse and fearlessly had her eyes fixed on me despite the anger she saw in mine.

Many had died for far lesser offenses, yet there she was, casting her cold stare at me with her arms across her chest. Her nose wrinkled, her lips quivered, and her breathing was tense.

I couldn't sit there and have her disrespect me. I was her boss, and she was my employee—there ought to be some level of respect here. It didn't matter how angry she was; her attitude was unacceptable.

“You will apologize,” I stated, my voice stern and authoritative.

Her brows slowly rose at my words, hinting at her displeasure. “And if I don't?” She held my gaze, her stare empty.

I felt a flicker of irritation that made me grit my teeth. Her attitude and condescending expressions were driving me nuts, and my blood was boiling.

“I could fire you right now if you don't brittle that sharp tongue of yours,” I warned, my words low and threatening.

Her lips parted into a faint grin. “That won't be necessary.” She rose to her feet, unclipped her employee card from her dress, and leaned forward to whisper, “I quit.” Julia dropped the card on the countertop and walked away.

I swiped a palm over my mouth, watching her leave, her form disappearing in the crowd of dancers. An abrupt chuckle escaped my lips as I brushed my fingers against my forehead. She should've known that as an employee at Jupiter, she couldn't resign or quit without a two-week notice. Julia was a character.

I smiled subtly, intrigued by her drama.

And just like that, I felt my annoyance fading away, replaced by a feeling of fascination.