Chapter 7 - Gwen

The next few days pass surprisingly easily in a blur of textbooks, online lectures, and notes. I throw myself into my studies, which bring me the ease and familiarity I’ve been dying for, jotting down detailed notes. Luckily, I haven’t fallen too far behind, and catching up has been a breath of fresh air for me, even though it was hard work. Exams are in the near future, and I can only imagine how much more studying Riley and I need to do.

I pause in my thoughts, my fingers hovering over my keyboard mid-typing. Right. I forgot Riley was gone. The thought of my best friend wraps me in a sense of unease. We will reunite , I think to myself.

I married Roman for a reason, and I refuse to believe that all of this—the marriage, the secrecy, the tension—will be for nothing. I need to trust that Roman will keep his word and help me find her. I'm sure my husband will bring her back to me.

My husband.

Jesus Christ , I have a husband. A fucking mafia husband.

It’s a thought that hits me at the most random times. While brushing my teeth or listening to a lecture, I’ll pause and think, I have a husband now . And then, inevitably, my thoughts drift to him. Too much, considering the circumstances.

I’d like to chalk it up to that initial attraction—the one I felt the moment I laid eyes on him. But now that I’m living under the same roof as him, it’s more than that. We argue almost constantly, which I expected, and I am mostly at fault for always initiating.

But what I didn’t expect was just how sharp he is. He’s quick, witty, and far too clever for his own good. Sometimes, I think he enjoys our back-and-forth even more than I do. And then there’s his protective streak.

I can’t deny the effect it has on me—him swooping in, all intense and overbearing, trying to keep me safe at all costs. It should irritate me more, but instead, it makes my heart race and my skin feel too warm. I have no business daydreaming about Roman Milov when I should focus on my classes, but here I am, lost in thoughts of the man I now live with.

If you had told me as a little girl years ago that my first-ever marriage wouldn’t be true love and a fairytale wedding, well, she might have had a heart attack.

I sigh, pushing my notes aside for the moment. It’s almost dinnertime, and Roman and I are eating together again tonight—our new normal. I didn’t expect to enjoy it, but helping Maria prepare meals has been one of the few things that keep me grounded. Baking, too. I never was much of a cook or baker, but it’s a strange comfort—this routine we’ve fallen into. And if I’m being honest, I do like learning a thing or two from Maria. I’ve never had someone teach me tips and tricks about cooking before. It helps that she has such a motherly air. It feels...nice.

Tonight, Maria and I made fettuccine alfredo. She showed me how to handmake the noodles, and I almost had an aneurysm figuring it out. I have to say, after all that hard work, seeing the final product is incredibly satisfying.

Dinner is served, and I dive straight into it as soon as we sit down. I can’t hold back any longer. “Roman, you remember saying I could help you find Riley?” I begin with a far more softer approach than my last dozen times. “I want to know about what you’ve found so far. It’s my friend we’re talking about here. I have the right to know what’s happening.”

He pauses, his fork hovering mid-air before he sets it down. “We’re trying to figure out the men's identities,” he said, shoving food into his mouth.

I frown. “Still? It’s been almost three weeks. I thought you said you had the resources to figure this out.” I come from a place of genuine concern, but my voice comes off as more confrontational than I mean it to be.

Roman's jaw tightens, and he takes a slow sip of wine before responding. "These things take time, Gwen. We're dealing with the kind of men who know how to cover their tracks."

I study his face, noting the slight twitch at the corner of his eye and the way his fingers drum against the table. Something doesn't add up. For a man with his connections and resources, three weeks seems like an eternity to identify a few thugs.

"Really?" I press, leaning forward. "Because I remember when I met you, you had just finished upgrading the security systems at the casino. I’d only assume that with your money and power, you’d pick the kinds of cameras with facial recognition so advanced that they can pick out a single face in a crowd of thousands, right?"

Roman's expression remains carefully neutral, but I catch a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "The food is delicious. Thank you."

I refuse to back down. "Don't deflect. If your systems are as good as you claim, you should have identified those men by now. So either you're lying about your progress, or..." I trail off, a frustrating thought occurring to me. "Or you already know who they are, and you're not telling me."

Roman's expression hardens, and I know I've struck a nerve. "Gwen, there are things at play here that you don't understand."

"Then help me understand," I plead, my voice softening. "Riley is my best friend. I need to know what's happening to her. I need to be a part of this."

“Gwen,” Roman sighs, and I feel bad because his expressions appear to indicate he’s losing patience with me. Then I remember Riley is probably locked up in a basement somewhere, and I no longer feel bad but angry again. “You have to trust I’m handling it.”

“I do trust you,” I tell him, even though it’s a half-truth. I trust that a man as scary, powerful, and resourceful can get the job done. But do I trust him ? No, not in the slightest. “But you can’t keep me in the dark.”

“I don’t think talking about this with you is a good idea. There’s no need for you to get involved.”

“ Involved ?” I can’t help the exasperation that seeps into my voice. “I’m already involved, Roman. You brought me into this the moment you dragged me into your house and married me. Now I’m stuck here, in this prison, while my best friend is missing, and I’m just supposed to sit back and wait for updates?” I lean forward. I’m combative now. “You said you knew people and had the resources. If you think I’ll believe you haven’t made any progress, you must think I’m an idiot.”

His jaw tightens, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. He’s stubborn like me, but I’m not backing down this time. “It’s not safe for you to know everything,” he finally says, calm but edged with frustration.

I scoff. What, does he think I’m going to go out myself and hunt these fuckers down?

Well, I would, with no doubt, but I know I wouldn’t get far with him on my ass.

“Then tell me what is safe for me to know,” I counter, crossing my arms. “I’m not asking to storm the gates with you, Roman. I just want to know what’s going on.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to shut me down again, but then he leans back in his chair, studying me with his intense gaze. “Fine,” he says at last. “You want to know? I’ll tell you what I’ve found out.”

I blink, surprised that he’s actually giving in. Roman leans forward, his voice dropping slightly. “The group that took your friend… they’re connected to a larger family in Las Vegas. They’re weak in comparison to the Bratva, but they think I’m some inexperienced nobody who came from Russia. They believe they can use me as a way in with my cousin Luka.”

There’s a pang in my chest at the name Bratva, and it quickly contorts into something relative to fear. I knew his family was big, which is why I didn’t ask when he first revealed it to me. I knew they were important. I knew they had to belong to one of the popular crime families in Russia. But the biggest one? I couldn’t deny that hearing those words leave Roman’s mouth, sitting here face to face with a man as scary and powerful as he… made me feel a certain way. Fearful almost, yet strangely… protected.

His words hang heavy in the air, and I see something different in Roman’s eyes for the first time in days. A flicker of frustration, of pride. It bothers him that they see him as a pawn in their game. But there’s something else too. A darkness that lurks just beneath the surface, the same dangerous edge I saw that first night when the gunshots rang out. I’ve been so wrapped up in challenging him at every turn, making everything difficult, that I momentarily forgot who he really is.

Roman isn’t just some overly protective brute. He’s a man with power, a man who’s used to getting what he wants and isn’t afraid to take it by force if necessary. A dangerous man. A terrifying man. Fuck, the Grim Reaper, for all I know.

Yet here I am, poking the bear at every opportunity, pushing his buttons just to see what will happen. And the worst part? I enjoy it. I love it.

And the way Roman bites back… it does something to me I can’t explain.

I have no intention of stopping. If anything, I want to see how far I can push him before he snaps.

But then there’s this other side to him. The side that, despite everything, seems almost… gentle. Caring, even. It throws me off every time, and I can’t decide if it makes me trust him more or fear him less. Either way, I’m drawn to it. To him .

What the hell are you doing, Gwen? I scolded myself silently as I glanced at Roman, who was now focused on his food and clearly done with the conversation.

But it’s too late. I’m already in too deep, and I’m starting to realize that this marriage—no matter how forced or temporary—might be changing me in ways I never expected.

“So, what are their names?” I ask quietly. I feel awkward now. I was so used to bantering with him and getting the same energy back that it allowed me too much confidence to push his buttons more and more. Now that I finally seem to get on his nerves, I feel almost regretful about it. “The, uh, men?”

“They’re the Winchesters,” He answers. “They call their group the Vultures. Insignificant bunch. Never heard of them before until now.”

I sat silently for a few moments after his words, pushing the food around my plate and trying to process everything he told me. I’d forgotten how dangerous this all is. For days, I’ve been treating him like he’s the villain, the one keeping me prisoner. But real threats out there would tear us apart if given the chance.

And the scariest, more powerful one of all is protecting me. Me .

It doesn’t make this any easier, though.

Yet, my curiosity, my need to know, prevails. “Okay,” I sit up straighter, a hopeful pang in my chest sprouting from what he’s revealed so far, hoping to figure out more. “What do we know about them? What do they want?”

“The basics,” Roman answers, and it’s obvious he’s keeping everything short and sweet. “Money, power, territory. Nothing special, and nothing they’ll be getting.”

“And what about Riley?” I continue. “If they think she is important to you guys, surely they’ve offered some sort of deal by now? Asked for a ransom?”

Roman meets my eyes and makes a ‘hmph’ sound. “You sure put the pieces together fast,” he says with raised brows, leaning back and shooting me an impressed look that, to my annoyance, makes me feel good about myself.

He seems to think for a moment, then sighs. “We met with one of them last week. Yes, they asked for a ransom. No, we will not be giving them any sort of money. Right now, my brothers are looking into everything they’re involved with, every business and every property they own. We’re leading them to believe we’re ready to offer them a chance to expand their territory while we figure out where Riley is in the meantime.”

A few moments of quiet pass. Questions float about my mind, but he’s already extended the generosity of sharing just a bit of information he initially had no intention of sharing, so I don’t push my luck. “Why didn’t you just tell me this earlier?” I ask minutes later, my voice softer now, the fight slowly draining out of me.

Roman’s eyes meet mine, steady and unreadable. “Because I don’t want you to worry.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “ Worry? Roman, I’m already worried. Every second of every day. Hiding things from me doesn’t make it better.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and there’s something different in his expression. A hint of vulnerability, maybe? It’s subtle, but it’s there. “I’m trying to protect you, Gwen. I don’t want you involved any more than you already are.”

“Maybe I don’t need you to protect me all the time,” I mutter, even though a small part of me appreciates it. He’s overbearing, yes, but his intentions are clear. He’s trying.

“Maybe you do,” he counters, his voice firm. “These people... they’re dangerous, Moya Lyubov . This isn’t just about your friend. They want leverage and think using you against me is their way in. I can’t let that happen.”

I look down at my hands, feeling torn between frustration and an unsettling sense of safety. It’s the contradiction of Roman that keeps me on edge. He’s both a source of protection and the reason I’m stuck in this twisted situation in the first place.

But I can’t deny it anymore—there’s a strange comfort in knowing he’s on my side, even if I don’t fully trust him yet. There’s another feeling, too, one stronger but unexplainable, and I have no interest in finding out what it is.

Dinner wraps up quietly after that. There’s still tension between us, but it’s not as sharp as before. I’m unsure if it’s because he finally shared something with me or because I’m starting to understand his world better. But for now, we have a truce.

Later, I head back to my room, intending to dive back into my studies. But as I sit at my desk, flipping through my notes, I can’t focus. My thoughts keep drifting back to Roman—his words, his expressions during dinner, and how his presence lingers long after leaving the room.

I should be thinking about Riley. About how to keep my promise and make sure we get her back. But I can’t help it—Roman is invading my thoughts, and the more I try to push him out, the more he settles in.

I let out a frustrated sigh and stood up, pacing the length of the room. I hate this. I hate how conflicted I feel and how much I think about him. He’s not supposed to matter like this. He’s just the guy who forced me into marriage to save my friend. That’s all.

But there’s more, isn’t there? The way he looks at me, the way he protects me, and how, despite everything, I feel... safer with him than I ever thought I would.

I stop pacing, staring at the large window overlooking the city. It’s late, and the lights stretch out beneath me, a reminder of how isolated I am up here in this penthouse. Cut off from the rest of the world. From my old life.

It hits me again just how much everything has changed. My life, my choices, and even my feelings. I don’t know what this marriage will bring or how long it’ll last, but I’m stuck in this strange in-between between resentment and attraction, fear and trust.

And Roman Milov, whether I like it or not, is right at the center of it all.