Chapter 1 - Roman

My back fucking hurts.

Whiskey burns the back of my throat as I knock back the rest of what is in my glass before I promptly pour myself another finger or two. I stare blankly at my computer screen in front of me, my middle finger aggressively flicking my mouse's scroll wheel as I mindlessly flip through hundreds of emails.

It’s been two weeks since I moved from Moscow to Las Vegas, Nevada. I was born and raised in Moscow and grew up under the care of the Bratva. I became a businessman just like the rest of the men in my family unit while also doing my duties as a trusted Bratva enforcer. Moscow was more than just my home; it was my history, my family’s history, and Bratva history. Moscow is where I intended to live out the rest of my days.

That is until my cousin Luka came to me with a request.

I wasn’t particularly close to Luka, which was neither of our faults. Our fathers, the Milovs, didn’t see themselves as ordinary brothers but more as business partners. They were both high-ranked, respected members of our crime family and successful businessmen with decorated military backgrounds. Thus, they raised their sons to be the same way.

Our relationship was further tainted not too long ago when a business deal went wrong, resulting in one of his men pinning the blame on me to avoid getting into trouble. This incident put another wedge between Luka and me and fractured his trust further. I can’t say I was too bothered about Luka's loss of trust, but the incident did put a stain on my reputation that I’ve since been working hard to clean up.

Nevertheless, all of this was why I was confused when Luka approached me earlier this month and told me that he wanted me to take care of his casino down in Las Vegas while he took a long, well-deserved vacation.

It didn’t make sense to me. Luka doesn’t trust others easily and trusts me even less than most. He also likes to handle his business all on his own. He keeps his professional circles small and keeps his most important dealings to himself. It doesn’t make sense why someone like him would put me in charge of easily one of his top three most successful businesses.

I’m certain this is all a test of some sort. Whether it is a test to see if I can earn back his trust or to see if I’m truly capable in my role as an enforcer, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, nor do I care to—however, I have a reputation to repair, and this gives me the chance to do so.

My track record speaks for itself. I’m a highly respected businessman just as much as I am an enforcer. I am capable, and time and time again, I prove that statement to be true. You give me a job, and I do it better than you asked. Simple as that.

I’m a fucking Milov. Failure is not an option for us.

One thing about me is that I am fiercely loyal. Even to family members like Luka, who make it especially hard to get along with. If it’s trust he’s after, I’ll gladly show him he can count on me without doubt.

Adjusting my personal life and business to new territory was more difficult than I expected. A heavy groan escapes my lips, and as I roll my tired shoulders backward, I realize now that it probably wasn’t the best idea to give my personal assistant, Oksana, a few weeks of paid vacation. I’m an incredibly busy man, always have been and always preferred to be, but, frankly, there are far more important matters to attend to, like figuring out where in the city I’ll be moving my business to, instead of reading hundreds of fucking emails.

As I scroll, an email from a company called ‘Nova Security’ catches my eye, and I click on the email to reveal an invoice. I’d recently sought their services to install new security systems and cameras in the Diamond Casino. Luka had given me a long list of things he was in the process of working on, and giving his security systems an update was one of the top five. His old ones don’t even need updating, but Luka believes in always being steps ahead of everyone else, which includes updating to the newest technology the second it becomes available.

I tangled my fingers in my dark hair, lifting my arm to check the time on my watch, a white-gold Patek with a sapphire case back and navy leather strap. Unlike my cousin and many associates, I don’t insist on flaunting every dollar I have. I prefer to keep it low-key. I like to call it quiet luxury. I still shop at the same luxury, high-quality brands as they do, but I opt for more simple choices instead of sinking my claws into everything flashy.

The time reads nearly eight p.m. I take a quick glance out at the large windows behind me, admiring the tapestry of copper and pink hues, with bright orange sunlight filtering through gray clouds and the outlines of skyscrapers decorating the lovely horizon. The view in my new place, a 68th-floor penthouse hovering along the edges of the city, is far more appealing than my old one back home.

I gaze back down at my monitor, scanning the invoice in front of me. It inspires me to click out of my inbox and load up the messaging software where I communicate with the technicians at Nova Security. I reread our earlier messages, where they explained that they would dedicate today to camera installations across the casino, and then half the day tomorrow was all they needed to program each and every one of the cameras into their software. I’d also purchased alarms for each of the entrances and exits, which they would take care of tomorrow as well.

My eyes fell to the time in the corner of the screen, rereading the time once more. I had to be up early tomorrow to browse different commercial properties across the Upper West Side for my business, but part of me wanted to check out the work that Nova Security had done so far, just to make sure everything was going smoothly. I was a perfectionist in that way, both a blessing and a curse instilled into me by my father from a very young age, who wanted to raise a future heir to his business rather than a son, and thus was more of a boss or mentor to me than he was a father.

I kept staring at the time, but eventually, I pushed myself out of my leather seat and grabbed the black suit jacket on the back of my chair. A quick trip to check on things wouldn’t hurt, I suppose. And I desperately needed to get out of the fucking office.

***

Neon lights flicker overhead, and blaring music assaults my ears the second I push through the glass doors. Two men in burgundy suits greet me with a friendly nod as I enter the casino, already wanting to leave. I am highly introverted and a lone wolf, always preferring to keep to myself rather than be in the company of others, so big crowds in places like these always irk me. And was this place packed .

It was supposed to be a luxury casino, but it seemed like every millionaire, billionaire, and socialite in the city decided to show up this Friday night. I practically shove through a sea of bodies, narrowly dodging a half-naked waitress carrying a tray full of champagne, and annoyingly graze my hip on the edge of a poker table, cringing in disgust at the smell of body odor as I pass by a man who looked like he never left the place.

I pass by the obnoxiously loud rows of slot machines and make way for the restaurant called ‘The Flame’ at the end of the hallway. I swiftly pull out my ID to show the hostess, who welcomes me in with a great smile and a seemingly promiscuous gaze in her eyes as I pass her, making my way toward the bar and slipping onto a red leather stool.

“Whiskey, neat,” I flag down the bartender, who nods enthusiastically as she turns to make my drink, a look in her eye similar to the one that the hostess gave me. I’m not a stranger to those kinds of looks.

While I wait for my drink, I take the opportunity to glance at my surroundings.

I consider myself to be very observant, able to pick up the smallest details that most people would easily miss. Being observant is more than just a skill in my line of work—it's a necessity for survival.

In the Bratva, every detail matters. A misplaced glance, a subtle change in body language, or an out-of-place object could mean the difference between life and death.

I scan the room methodically, taking in every nuance. The way the light glints off the polished surfaces of the bar, casting shadows that could conceal a hidden weapon. The positioning of the security cameras, their lenses like watchful eyes tracking every movement. I note the exits and mentally map escape routes should the need arise.

Amongst the lively chatter, the sweet sound of laughter suddenly fills the air. My gaze shifts, landing on two women who enter the bar area. They laugh, engrossed in animated conversation, as they make their way to a small table with two seats. I'm about to look away, my interest fleeting as it usually is with strangers, when something catches my eye.

One of the women is gorgeous .

She's young, with long white-blonde hair that cascades down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. Even from this distance, I can see her striking blue eyes—they're the color of a clear winter sky, piercing and intense. Her smile is radiant, lighting up her entire face and seeming to brighten the dimly lit bar. Fuck , was she beautiful.

I find myself transfixed, unable to tear my gaze away. She moves with effortless grace, each gesture fluid and captivating, a stark contrast to her brunette friend, who seemed far more shy. I watch the blonde settle into her seat, leaning close to her friend as they continue their animated discussion.

Something about her is magnetic, drawing my attention in a way I'm unaccustomed to. I'm not one to be easily distracted, especially not by a beautiful woman. My life has been defined by discipline and focus. I’ve been surrounded by beautiful women my entire life, the ones my brothers and cousins brought around, the ones working at our clubs. Besides, romance and relationships have never been a priority. They’re a distraction, if anything. I can’t even be bothered with quick fucks most of the time.

Yet, I can't seem to look away from her.

I look between the two briefly, and it only takes a few seconds of inspecting them closely for me to see that they look incredibly out of place. The girl on the left, with shoulder-length brown hair, looks terribly nervous. She fiddles with her colorful drink while her eyes seemingly struggle to focus on her surroundings.

The beauty across from her couldn’t be more of the total opposite; she was very obviously drunk and did not seem to feel out of place one bit. But the two of them looked young, really young, the kind of young that had me questioning how well the doormen at this establishment checked their IDs before letting them through.

The bartender returns with my whiskey, breaking me from my thoughts. I nod in thanks, taking a long sip of the amber liquid. The burn in my throat helps ground me, reminding me why I'm here. I'm supposed to be checking on the new security installations, not ogling patrons.

I force my gaze away from the blonde woman, scanning the room once more. This time, I'm looking for the new security cameras. I spot several discreetly placed in the corners and along the bar, their sleek designs blending seamlessly with the decor. Nova Security has done an impressive job with the installation so far.

As I continue my assessment, my mind frustratingly wanders back to her. I try to ignore it, pulling out my phone to bring up the app that would allow me remote access to my computer to view the camera feeds, but inevitably, my gaze pulls back towards the girls, to the blonde. Part of me feels like I couldn’t tear my eyes away if I wanted to. And why would I want to? This woman is fucking sexy. With sparkling eyes and a perfect smile, her features all come together perfectly on a heart-shaped face, which bore simple but sparkly makeup that suited her well. A sexy, tight-fitting black dress with a sparkly decal hugged her slender body so flawlessly that it could have been glued to her skin.

It was hard to look away from her, just as hard as it was to ignore the heat growing in my crotch.

All of a sudden, the blonde unexpectedly looks my way, making direct eye contact with me. I notice the heat rush to her cheeks immediately as she averts her gaze, and I can’t help but smirk at this, which she catches once she looks back. This time, she doesn’t look away.

The corners of her glossy lips curl into a flirtatious grin. Brave girl… I think to myself as our eyes lock. I’m impressed with how quickly it took her to gather her confidence. The hot sensation spreads further across my lower abdomen, causing a fire to flicker to life within me. I can’t help but smile in amusement as I watch her closely.

I twirl my glass in my fingers, bringing the rim to my lips to take a small sip of the bronze liquid. She also takes another sip of her drink, then slowly pulls away. Her tongue pokes out from her perfectly plump lips and gently swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to lick away a droplet from her drink.

Her smile, that daring look in her cerulean eyes… It’s all it takes for me to rise from my chair and make my way towards their table with unwavering confidence. I watch her stiffen as I stop in front of her, and her friend looks up at me with confusion.

“What’s your name?” is the first thing I ask her, my tone firm but gentle. Everybody I know says I appear extremely intimidating, and I don’t blame them at all. I’m tall and muscular, have sharp, dark features, and a piercing gaze. It makes sense why someone would be quick to judge me off the rip. So, I have to be a bit careful about how I approach people. I don’t want to scare this pretty girl away… Although, judging by the look in her eyes, I don’t think I could, anyway.

She exchanges a look with her friend, her lips slightly parted as she returns her gaze to me. The confidence she wore early seems to have come to an unexpected halt, and embarrassment flashes across her eyes. I can’t help but smirk, my amusement clearly flustering her further as her cheeks grow red.

“Um…” The woman finally says as she turns in her seat to face me fully and clears her throat. “Gwen. My name is Gwen.”

“Gwen…” I savor her name in my mouth before it rolls off my tongue smoothly. “What a beautiful name.” And it was. It suits her well.

She smiles, and I can see the nerves start to leak from her face. “Thank you,” she says. “What’s your name?”

My smirk deepens as I hear the confidence start to return to her voice. “Roman,” I tell her before lifting my arm and extending my hand to her. She lifts her own hand and delicately places it in my palm, which I bring to my mouth to softly kiss the back of it. “It’s lovely to meet you, Gwen.”

Gwen giggles. “You too.”

I turn my focus momentarily to her friend. “What’s your name?” I ask. I’m a gentleman. While Gwen is my sole focus, I’m not the kind of man to simply ignore the other people with my target. I’m a gentleman, for fucks sake.

The brunette is more flustered than Gwen was. “R-Riley,” she sputters, then shoots me an awkward grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Riley,” I tell her as I shake her hand, but I don’t kiss it like I did with Gwen. I remain respectful, but Gwen has my interest, and I want her to know that.

“Where are you girls from?” I ask as I glance back over at Gwen, who sits forward in her chair and crosses one leg over the other as I speak. She seems to have noticed my interest in her and wants to showcase her interest as well. “I haven’t seen you around here before,” I add.

“We’re from around here,” Gwen answers. “We go to the University of Nevada.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Riley kick Gwen’s foot under the table, and the two girls exchange a short-lived, annoyed glance.

“Ah, you’re students?” I make a mental note to inquire about that further later. Right now, I want to know what brings them to this place. And I also want to find a way to get Gwen to leave here with me. I already have a few ideas in mind.

“What brings you girls to a place like this?” I ask as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my dress pants. The question is for both of them, but my eyes are only on Gwen, and hers only on mine.

“We were looking for a bit of fun,” She answers in almost a purr, her sweet voice rolling over me in a smooth caress and adding more fuel to the fire within me. She tilts her head just barely as she maintains eye contact.

“Really?” I hum, watching as she can’t help but lean in closer as my voice takes on a deeper, more flirtatious tone. “And what kind of fun was that?”

As Gwen begins to speak, I’m suddenly distracted by movement at the entrance of the bar. Three men in burgundy suits enter the bar area, their synchronized movements immediately setting off alarms in my head. They scan the room with cold, calculating eyes before settling at the very booth I just came from, the only one in the area with a clear view of both exits.

My instincts, honed by years in the Bratva, immediately tell me these men are trouble. Their matching attire suggests they're working together, and the way they position themselves speaks of military or tactical training. I watch them carefully from the corner of my eye, noting how they communicate with subtle nods and gestures.

One of the men reaches inside his jacket, and I tense, ready for action. But he only pulls out a pack of cigarettes. I relax marginally, but keep my guard up. These men are professionals, that much is clear. Their every movement is deliberate, their eyes constantly scanning for threats. The man lights the cigarettes, and I’m sure he’s well aware that he’s not allowed to smoke in here. He simply doesn’t care, which tells me he might have the kind of power that lets him get away with whatever he pleases.

Suddenly, all three men turn their heads in perfect unison, their gazes locking onto me. A chill runs down my spine as I meet their eyes, unflinching. The air between us crackles with tension, like the moment before lightning strikes. My hand instinctively twitches towards the concealed Glock 19 holstered at my hip, hidden beneath my tailored jacket.

For a long moment, we're locked in a silent standoff. I can almost hear the gears turning in their heads as they assess me, just as I'm assessing them. Their eyes are cold and calculating, reminiscent of sharks circling their prey.

But I'm no prey, and they seem to recognize that fact.

After what feels like an eternity, the tension breaks as they simultaneously look away, resuming their quiet conversation.

I don't let my guard down. Years of experience have taught me that moments of apparent calm can be the most dangerous. I take another sip of my whiskey, using the motion to subtly scan the room once more. Gwen is still talking, she and her friend oblivious to the undercurrent of danger that has just rippled through the bar.

“What about you?” I turn to face Gwen as she asks me the question, and I try not to showcase my thoughts through my expressions as I smile at her.

“Business,” I tell her. Normally I don’t reveal too many details about myself to strangers, but something about her keeps my guard down a bit. “The place belongs to my family. I’m checking out some new security features we implemented recently.”

Gwen’s eyes light up with genuine interest. “Really? That’s so cool. So, you run this place?”

“Something like that,” I say, but my mind is still distracted by the characters behind me. As I turn around for a brief moment to check on the men, I notice something that makes my blood run cold. One of the men in burgundy is now staring directly at Gwen and Riley, a predatory gleam in his eye. His associates follow his gaze, their expressions darkening with malicious intent.

My jaw clenches involuntarily. Whatever these men are planning, it can't be good.

I wonder if they made the same deduction about the girls that I did, that they were young and out of place. More importantly, their threatening gazes make me feel like something might happen, and, if so, I can’t help but wonder if I put Gwen and Riley at risk by approaching them. That they think I know them, that we are here together. I’m not entirely sure.

The looks in their eyes were unmistakable. Hunger , the kind of hunger you see in a lion’s eyes before it sinks its teeth into a gazelle—a carnal desire for ruin.

My survival instincts kick in, mixed with the unexpected protective instinct for Gwen, as well as Riley. I turn back to the girls, keeping a neutral tone as a plan comes to mind.

“Actually,” I begin, masking the edge to my tone with the prior flirtatiousness. I make eye contact with Gwen. “I do own this V.I.P. club on the strip. It’s incredibly hard to get into, but for you girls… I’ll make the exception.”

Gwen’s eyes glint with something mischievous, and she exchanges a glance with Riley, whose concerned face stands as a silent protest. While the girls begin to bicker nonverbally, I steal a look at the men behind us through the mirror behind the bar, watching as they begin to lean toward each other and shift in their seats. My jaw clenches. Something is going to happen. I can fucking feel it.

“I wasn’t giving you the choice,” I say firmly but playfully, extending out a hand to both Gwen and Riley, paired with a smile. “Come on. I’ll take you ladies there. You’ll love it.”

Riley shoots Gwen another glance, but it’s ultimately pointless as Gwen doesn’t hesitate to put her hand in mine, shooting warmth running up my arm. “Good,” I say with a grin. “I promise you, you girls will have the time—"

Bang.

Before I have the chance to finish my sentence, a gunshot rings through the air.