Chapter 6 - Roman

The morning sun barely crests the horizon when I slip out of bed. I have a meeting with my siblings this morning, and I don’t hesitate to get going. I dress quickly, donning my armor of a perfectly tailored suit, each movement precise and controlled.

When I arrived, my siblings were waiting for me in my office at the Diamond Casino, eyes sharp despite the early hour. The air is thick with the acrid scent of the cigarette Victor, who leans against the wall behind my desk, is smoking. Anton, Anya, and Boris sit in the chairs and on the sofa surrounding my desk, perking up as I enter. My brothers nod in my direction, and I nod back. Anya smiles, and I smile back.

“Roman,” Victor greets as he slides a manila folder across the polished mahogany desk. "We've got names.”

I flip open the folder, and on the first page, three faces stare back at me. As I study their features, my jaw clenches, committing every detail to memory.

“The Vultures,” Victor mutters, rubbing his chin, bringing up the name that I (unexpectedly) found out for them yesterday. “A small-time Vegas family, but they’ve been making moves lately. Expanding their businesses. Trying to take a bigger slice of the pie. They thought you were an easy target.”

“Which proves they’ve underestimated me,” I say, my voice cold. I look back down at the pictures and mugshots that match each of the faces of the men at the bar. Underneath are three names: Mark, Luther, and Jason Winchester. Three fuckers who would soon be buried 6ft deep for daring to put their filthy paws on my wife.

Anton leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Like he told Victor, Luka’s had his eye on them for a while. They’ve been sniffing around our territory and his businesses, trying to muscle in on some of the smaller operations he controls. He never gave them any attention, and I suppose that angered them. They saw you and assumed you two were connected. This kidnapping? It’s just their latest attempt to get our attention.”

“Well, they’ve got it,” Anya says, her voice clipped. She faces me. “What’s the plan, Roman?”

I glance around the table, weighing my words carefully. As the eldest, Victor has always had the most power in the family, but since stepping up, I’ve made it clear that my say matters just as much. I’m not here to be the second-youngest brother in the shadows anymore. This is my fight.

“We need to hit them hard and fast,” I reply. “But we can’t be reckless. The Vultures might be small, but they’ve got connections. And they’ve got that girl. We can’t afford to make too much noise yet. We need to extract the girl first, then deal with the rest.”

“Is it really worth it to you?” Anton questions me with a confused look. “We should just hit them first. Forget the girl. She doesn’t mean anything to us.”

“I agree,” Anya said, shooting me a firm but guilty look. She was always the most reasonable of the bunch. “It’s… unfortunate an innocent got in the middle of all this, but we shouldn’t risk time, resources, and men to get her back.”

I flip through the folder, stumbling upon a picture of Riley. A speck of guilt sprouts in my stomach at the photo, which is of her tied up to a chair, looking rough and terrified.

“They sent that this morning,” Anton tells me when he notices me looking at it. “Worker gave it to us in an envelope on the way in. It came with a note asking for fifty grand. Those morons.”

“It’s not for me,” I finally say, then let out an exhale. “It’s for my wife.”

Everyone immediately straightens their backs. “Wife?” Victor was the first to say. “What wife, Roman?”

“Her name is Gwen,” I reply, eager to keep everything short and simple, saving the other details for later. “I’m sure you’re all confused and have every right to be. But I’ll explain everything another time. Sure, the girl isn’t important to us, but these Vultures think she is. However, she is important to my wife. And I told her we’ll get her back, so we will. I won’t argue on this.”

When I look between my siblings’ faces, none of them argue. Though Victor looks wildly disappointed, and Anya is obviously intrigued, I continue.

“I ran into some of them last night. They said they owned a bar down on Heritage. I looked it up, and it’s called Rouge. Told us to give them a call to do business in exchange for the girl.” I shrug. “We’re not paying a ransom. Instead, we’ll play along as if we’ll do business with them and let them expand their business for a bit. In return, we start looking for the girl. That’s our first step, our second being taking every single one of them down.”

Boris, the youngest of us, nods, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by something more serious. “I’ll start putting out feelers with my contacts in Vegas. Do a little more research into our guys to find out about other businesses and properties they might have and past connections. See if anyone knows where they’re keeping the girl.”

“I can talk to my connections at the station,” Anton added. “See if they got a documented history.”

“And what about Gwen?” Anya asks, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “How’s she holding up?” She had always wanted a sister instead of three brothers. It was clear she had taken a keen interest in Gwen already despite not even meeting her yet.

I clench my jaw, thinking of her at the penthouse, still caught up in this mess because of me. “She’s... adjusting,” I say, though the word hardly feels accurate. Gwen is fighting this marriage every step of the way; the tension between us is heavy, and I don’t blame her. I put her in this position, and she didn’t ask for any of it.

But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s mine now, no matter how hard she fights it, and I’ll protect her with everything I have.

“I’ll get a few of my men to stay watch. Keep an eye on the Vultures for now,” Victor says, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. “But be careful, Roman. They’ve already made one move against us. Don’t give them another opportunity.”

I nod, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders as the meeting wraps up. Victor and the others leave one by one, but before Anya goes, she catches my arm, her expression softening.

“You need to be honest with her about all of this, Roman,” she says quietly. “I know you want to protect her, but you can’t protect her from everything.”

I don’t respond; I just nod briefly before heading out. She’s right, of course. Gwen deserves the truth, but I’m not sure she’s ready to hear it. Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready to give it.

***

The tension between us thickens in the two days since our ‘marriage.’ Gwen has done a hell of a job of avoiding me, and the times that she can’t, she finds a way to bicker with me. It’s about the way I arrange my kitchen or the choice of movie I put on the living room TV. If she only knew how entertaining her arguments are, she might think twice about her stubbornness.

“No, I’m not watching Interstellar. I’ve already watched it twice before,” she says as she snatches the remote from me. I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at her. “Besides, you’re not going to understand it.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” I ask her, amused.

“No,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “But I’m not not calling you stupid, either.”

Quite frankly, I find her behavior adorable. I can already tell the game she is playing is trying to make me hate her. My guess is that she thinks it’ll achieve one of two things, or both: a) it’ll make me want to get her friend back quicker, or b) by the time all of this is done, I won’t be able to stand her and want a divorce.

But that’s not happening.

She thinks she can get away from me, but she’s mine to keep.

And she can only keep denying how I know she feels about me for so long.

However, I can still see the toll it takes on her. She’s trapped within the confines of my penthouse, unable to go out or return to her normal life. Her friend is locked away in a basement somewhere, enduring only god knows what kind of suffering. I can only imagine how maddening it must be for someone as clearly spirited as her.

I’ve tried to talk to her a few times now, just so we can get to know each other better, but she avoids talking to me for more than a minute at a time or when she doesn’t have to. I’ve tried getting the housekeepers to give it a go. Maria, an older lady who has worked for me for almost a decade now and who I brought over from Russia, has been trying to be friendly with Gwen nonstop but to no avail. Gwen is distant and barely leaves her room, only to grab food and lock herself back in there to eat.

On Tuesday, four days after the night of the casino and three after our marriage, she comes into my office one morning. I’m about to head out to tend to business.

Yesterday, Victor and I contacted Luther Winchester, the eldest brother of the three men we encountered, telling him we wanted to discuss the ransom. We, of course, don’t plan on giving him the money. Instead, we’ll get into his head, telling him that Luka is away, but we’ll put in a good word for when he gets back and work something out. It’ll kill us enough time to figure out more about them so we can find out where they’re keeping Riley and then proceed to dismantle their entire syndicate, one by one.

However, Gwen’s presence surprises me, so I can’t help but stay.

“Roman,” she says, her voice firm as she crosses her arms. “I need to go back to campus. I can’t just sit here and do nothing all day.”

I immediately shake my head. “Not a chance. We still don’t have any leads on the people after us, and I won’t risk your safety. You’re staying here.”

She glares at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You can’t keep me locked up like a prisoner. I won’t allow it.”

“Locked up?” I arch an eyebrow, leaning against the counter casually. “You have access to everything here. It’s more of a luxury than a prison, I assure you.”

“A luxury isn’t being married to a complete stranger so you can get your kidnapped friend back,” She argues.

At this, a smile makes its way to my face. Rounding my desk, I close the distance between us, looking down at her.

"Is that what I am to you, Gwen? A complete stranger?" I ask, my voice low and husky. I can see how her breath catches, the slight dilation of her pupils as I invade her personal space. "Because I don't think that's entirely true."

She steps back, but I match it, maintaining our proximity. "What are you talking about?" she asks, her voice wavering slightly.

"I've seen the way you look at me, silly girl," I murmur, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She flinches at the touch but doesn't pull away. "The way your breath quickens when I'm near. The flush in your cheeks right now." I trace a finger along her jawline, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "You're drawn to me, just as I am to you. There's no use denying it."

Gwen's eyes flash with defiance, even as her body betrays her. "You're delusional," she spits out, but there's a tremor in her voice that tells me otherwise. "I don't feel anything for you, Roman."

I chuckle, the sound low and dark. "Keep telling yourself that, Moya Lyubov. But we both know the truth." I lean closer, my lips barely grazing her ear as I whisper, "You're mine now, Gwen. The sooner you accept that the easier this will be for both of us.”

Gwen's eyes widen, a mixture of anger and something deeper, more primal, flashing in their depths. She takes a step back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"You're insufferable," she hisses, but I can hear the slight tremor in her voice. "I'm not some possession for you to claim. This arrangement is temporary, nothing more."

I can't help but smirk at her defiance. It's adorable how she thinks she can resist this connection between us. "Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

She opens her mouth to retort, but no words come out. I can see the conflict raging behind her eyes, the way she struggles to reconcile her attraction to me with her desire to maintain control.

For a moment, I don’t say anything. Our faces are inches apart. I can feel her breath on my lips, the heat growing in my crotch, and see the way she begins to shudder under my stare. I’m having fun teasing her this way, proving that no matter how hard she tries to convince me of one thing, her expressions and body tell another story.

I watch as a swallow works its way down her throat. “Please, Roman,” she says quietly, “I’m going insane. I need to study. I can’t afford to fall behind. Please.”

Her plea strikes a chord in me. I can see the fire in her eyes, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. I don’t want to see her cooped up and restless like this.

Still, the fire inside of me doesn’t die down. A smirk finds my face. “I like it when you beg,” I tease, my fingers snaking to rest on her hip. “All right. Since you asked so politely, how about we do this: You can continue your studies online. You’ll have everything you need here. You’re not leaving here, but you’ll get what you want—only this time.”

Her surprise is evident, and for a moment, I think I might have won her over. She stares at me, her expression softening before she nods, though the stubbornness remains. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” I say, brushing her cheek with my thumb. I’d love to stay here and talk to her more, perhaps even get rid of this growing erection of mine, but I have business to attend to shortly. “I’ll be back later,” I tell her as I walk by her. “I’ll get one of my men to stop by your dorm this afternoon and get all your belongings.” With that, I walk away.

***

The neon sign of Rouge flickers faintly in the sunlight, casting an eerie red glow across the grimy sidewalk. Victor and I stand before the weathered wooden door, the muffled thrum of bass pulsing from within. I adjust my cufflinks, the cool metal a stark contrast to the humid Vegas air.

"Remember," Victor mutters, his eyes scanning the street, "we're here to play nice. For now."

I nod, my jaw clenching as I push open the door. The stench of stale beer and cheap perfume assaults us as we step inside. The bar is dimly lit, a haze of cigarette smoke hanging in the air like a shroud. A few patrons slouch over their drinks, their hollow eyes barely registering our presence.

Luther Winchester sits in a corner booth, flanked by two burly men whose bulging jackets poorly conceal their weapons. His eyes narrow as we approach, a predatory grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well," Luther drawls, gesturing for us to sit. "If it ain't the Milov boys. Come to talk business?"

I slide into the booth, Victor taking the position at my side. My face remains impassive, but beneath the surface, my blood boils at the sight of this man. The man responsible for putting Gwen through hell, as well as being a royal pain in our asses.

"That's right," I say, my voice cool and controlled. "We're here to discuss terms."

Luther leans back, his grin widening. "Terms, huh? And here I thought you'd be begging for your little friend back."

I feel Victor tense beside me, but I remain still, my eyes locked on Luther. "We're not here to beg," I say. "We're here to negotiate," I continue, keeping my voice steady. "Luka's out of town, but we can discuss potential arrangements on his behalf."

Luther's eyebrows raise slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. "Is that so? And what kind of arrangements might those be?"

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the grimy table. I begin to feed him with the lies we prepared. "We're willing to consider allowing you to expand some of your operations into our territory. In exchange, you release the girl and agree to cease any further provocations against our interests."

Luther chuckles, a harsh sound that grates on my nerves. "That's mighty generous of you. But how do I know this ain't some trick? Your boy Luka's never given us the time of day before."

"Times change," Victor interjects smoothly. "We've been watching your moves. You've shown ambition.” Another lie, of course. These guys were idiots, not ambitious.

Luther's eyes narrow, his gaze flickering between Victor and me. "Ambition, huh? That's one way of putting it." He leans back, fingers drumming on the sticky tabletop. "All right, let's say I'm interested. What exactly are we talking about here? What kind of expansion?"

I maintain my composure, even as disgust churns in my gut. "We're willing to discuss allowing you to operate a couple of your... establishments in our territory. Nothing too flashy, mind you. A bar or two, maybe a gentlemen's club. We'd need to approve the locations, of course."

Luther's eyes light up with greed, but there's still suspicion lurking beneath. "And in return?"

"You release the girl. Unharmed," I state firmly. "And you back off from any other moves against our interests. No more sniffing around our territory without us knowing.”

Luther's eyes narrow, a calculating look crossing his face. "The girl, huh? She must be pretty important to you boys if you're willing to offer up territory for her."

I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away. Riley is crucial, but to Gwen, not to us. The only reason there’s such a rush to get her back is for Gwen, so we can move forward with taking every one of the Vultures down. “She's leverage, nothing more. We're simply looking to resolve this situation without unnecessary complications."

Luther leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. "All right, let's say I'm interested. But I'm gonna need more than just a couple of bars. How about we talk about a piece of your fancy casino?"

Victor tenses beside me, but I remain calm. "The casino is off the table," I say firmly. "But we might be willing to discuss a small stake in one of our other ventures. Perhaps the nightclub on Fremont."

Luther's eyes gleam with interest, but he quickly masks it with a dismissive wave. "A nightclub? That's chump change compared to what we're after."

I lean forward, my voice low and measured. "It's a starting point, Luther. You prove you can handle this responsibility without causing problems, and we can discuss further opportunities down the line."

He scoffs, but I can see the wheels turning in his mind. "And how do I know this ain't some setup? You Milovs ain't exactly known for playing nice."

"You don't," I reply bluntly. "But consider this—if we wanted to take you out, we wouldn't be sitting here talking business. We'd have already done it."

A tense silence falls over the booth. Luther's men shift uneasily, hands inching towards their concealed weapons. Victor remains still beside me, but I can feel the urge to kill emanating from him.

Luther's eyes narrow, his fingers drumming on the sticky tabletop as he considers my words. The tension in the air is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel Victor's coiled energy beside me, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

"All right," Luther finally says, leaning back with a predatory grin. “I'm interested. But I want more than just a nightclub. I want a piece of your protection racket in the downtown area."

I keep my face impassive, even as anger simmers beneath the surface. This bastard has some nerve, thinking he can muscle in on our core operations. "That's not on the table," I say firmly. "The nightclub is our offer. Take it or leave it."

Luther's grin widens, a cruel glint in his eye. "Oh, I don't think so, Milov. I've got something you want. Something clearly very precious." He pulls out his phone, tapping the screen before turning it to face us.

My blood runs cold as I see Riley's battered face on the screen. She's tied to a chair, her eyes wide with fear and pain. Luther's thumb hovers over a button labeled "Live Feed."

The sight makes me angry, but not because of guilt. Because I can only imagine what Gwen’s reaction would be if she ever saw the state Riley was in.

I have to keep her out of the loop for both her safety and sanity.

"One push of this button, and your little friend gets to experience a whole new level of pain," Luther says, his voice dripping with malice. "So maybe you want to reconsider your offer."

I feel Victor tense beside me, ready to lunge across the table. I place a hand on his arm, stopping him. We can't afford to make a scene, not yet.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Winchester," I say, my voice low and deadly. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Luther's grin only widens. "Oh, I think I do. The mighty Milovs think they run this town. But times are changing, boys. And you're gonna have to learn to share."

I lean forward, my eyes boring into his. "Let me make something very clear. If you harm that girl any further, there won't be a hole deep enough for you to hide in. We'll hunt you down and make you wish you'd never been born."

Luther's smile falters for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. But he quickly recovers, his bravado returning. "Big words from a man in no position to make threats. Now, about that protection racket..."

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. Luther's men tense, hands moving towards their weapons, but I pay them no mind. My eyes are locked on Luther, cold fury radiating from every pore.

"This meeting is over," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "You've made a grave mistake, Winchester. You think you're playing with the big boys now, but you're nothing but a small-time thug who's bitten off more than he can chew."

Luther's smug expression wavers, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Now, wait just a minute—"

I cut him off, leaning in close. "No, you wait. You have 24 hours to release the girl unharmed. After that, all bets are off. And trust me, you don't want to see what happens when we decide to stop playing nice."

Victor rises beside me, his imposing figure looming over the table. Luther's men shift uneasily, hands hovering near their concealed weapons.

I turn to leave but pause, glancing back over my shoulder. "Oh, and Luther? That offer we made? Consider it revoked. You had your chance."

Luther's face contorts with rage, his earlier bravado crumbling. "You can't just walk away! We're not done here!"

"We are," I say coldly. "And you'd better pray that girl is unharmed when we find her. Because if she's not..." I let the threat hang in the air, watching as a flicker of fear finally breaks through Luther's facade.

Victor and I stride out of the bar, the tension crackling in our wake. Victor turns to me as soon as we're outside, his eyes blazing.

"We should have taken them out right there," he hisses, his fists clenched at his sides. "Those fuckers don't deserve to breathe another minute."

I place a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards our waiting car. "Not yet," I murmur, my voice low and controlled despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. "We need to be smart about this, Victor. We make one wrong move, and that girl pays the price."

Victor shakes his head, frustration evident in every line of his body. "And what if they hurt her anyway? You saw that video, Roman. They're not playing games."

"Neither are we," I reply, my tone ice-cold. "But we need to be strategic.”

As we slide into the sleek black car, the image of Riley's battered face flashes through my mind, and I clench my fists, struggling to maintain my composure.

"Call Boris," I instruct our driver as we pull away from the curb. "Tell him to double his efforts. I want every property, every associate, every goddamn breath those Vultures take accounted for. We're running out of time."

Victor nods grimly beside me, his earlier anger giving way to cold determination. "What's our next move?" he asks, his eyes fixed on the passing cityscape.

I lean back, my mind racing. "We need to apply pressure. Hit them where it hurts. Boris should have some intel on their legitimate businesses by now. We'll start there."

As if on cue, my phone buzzes. It's Boris.

"What do you have for me?" I answer without a preamble.

"We've got something, Roman," Boris's voice crackles through the speaker. "One of my contacts just came through. The Vultures have been using a warehouse on the outskirts of town as a base of operations. It's registered to a shell company, but we've confirmed it's theirs."

I exchange a look with Victor, a spark of hope igniting in my chest. "Any signs of the girl?"

"Nothing concrete," Boris admits. "But there's been unusual activity there in the past few days. Increased security, lots of deliveries. It's worth checking out."

"Good work," I say, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Send me the address. We'll plan the next move ASAP."

I end the call and turn to Victor. "We might have a lead on where they're keeping Riley. A warehouse on the outskirts of town."

Victor's eyes light up with anticipation. "Finally. Let's go in guns blazing and end this."

I shake my head, tempering his enthusiasm. "Not yet. We need to be smart about this. If we rush in, we risk Riley's life. We'll do recon first, confirm she's there, then plan our move carefully."

Victor nods reluctantly, understanding the logic but clearly itching for action. "Fine. But we can't wait too long. Those bastards need to pay."

"And they will," I assure him, my voice low and deadly. "But we do this my way."