Chapter 2 - The Woman He Couldn't SaveRoman's hand stopped inches from my face.
I waited for pain.
Instead, I heard something I had never expected from Chicago's most feared man.
A broken breath.
"Open your eyes, Cara."
His voice sounded different. Not softer, exactly. More like something inside him had finally cracked.
I opened one eye.
Roman was staring at the tear on my cheek.
"You think I don't know what people call me?"
I couldn't answer.
"Monster. Butcher. Devil." His mouth twisted. "I've heard worse from men who were begging me to spare their lives."
"Then why are you angry with me?"
"Because you're the first person in six years whose opinion I actually cared about."
The words struck harder than any threat.
I stared at him.
Roman stepped backward, giving me room to breathe.
"Six years ago, I was supposed to marry a woman named Elena."
The name seemed to hurt him.
"She was twenty-six. A pediatric nurse. She hated expensive jewelry, loved terrible coffee, and believed people could change."
He looked toward the kitchen door.
"She was pregnant."
My stomach tightened.
Roman continued.
"Seven months. We had already chosen a name."
"What happened?"
"Someone planted a bomb beneath her car."
I covered my mouth.
"She was leaving a hospital fundraiser. I was supposed to drive her home, but my father called me away."
His jaw hardened.
"I heard the explosion from three blocks away."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"Roman, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You didn't do it."
He turned toward the door.
"Her name was Sofia. Our daughter."
The refrigerator hummed between us.
I suddenly understood that the coldness I'd mistaken for emptiness might be something else entirely.
Grief.
But grief didn't explain everything.
"What happened to the man in your wine cellar?" I asked.
Roman stopped.
"Arthur?"
"Yes."
"He's alive."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
He turned back.
"You don't."
That answer frightened me more than a lie would have.
He approached the pantry door, then paused.
"Elena used to say the same thing you said tonight."
"What?"
"That I was becoming a heartless monster."
His eyes met mine.
"The last time we argued, she told me she was leaving."
I felt a strange ache in my chest.
"Did she?"
"She never got the chance."
Roman opened the door.
"Go home, Cara. Your sister is waiting."
My blood went cold.
"How do you know about my sister?"
Roman didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward the ballroom, where music continued as though nothing terrible had ever happened.
"Because someone asked about her tonight."
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"Natalia."
I gripped the counter.
"Why would she ask about Lily?"
Roman's expression changed.
"That's what I intend to find out."
My sister Lily was nineteen, a nursing student with an addiction to instant noodles and an unreasonable belief that every injured animal in Chicago belonged in our apartment.
When I arrived home at three in the morning, she was sitting on our couch.
A black gift box rested on her lap.
"Some woman brought this for you."
My heart began pounding.
"What woman?"
"Beautiful. Blonde. Expensive coat."
Natalia.
I reached for the box.
Inside lay a silver bracelet.
And beneath it, a photograph.
A photograph of Lily walking home from college.
On the back, someone had written:
Your sister is lovely. It would be a shame if she disappeared like Elena.
My hands began shaking.
Lily leaned closer.
"Cara? What's wrong?"
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Roman's voice came through immediately.
"Don't touch the bracelet."
I looked down.
Too late.
I'd already lifted it from the box.
"Why?"
His next words made my blood freeze.
"Because Elena received the exact same gift the day before she died."
Roman arrived twelve minutes later with two black SUVs and four armed men.
Lily stood behind me in our narrow hallway.
"Is that Roman Cavalli?" she whispered.
I nodded.
"The actual Roman Cavalli?"
"Unfortunately."
Roman entered without his jacket, sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing the intricate tattoos covering his skin.
His eyes went directly to the bracelet.
He didn't touch it.
Instead, he took a photograph with his phone.
"Frankie," he said into his earpiece, "get a forensic team here."
I crossed my arms.
"You're not turning my apartment into a crime scene."
"Someone threatened your sister."
"And somehow that happened after I started working for you."
Roman accepted the accusation without argument.
That surprised me.
He looked at Lily.
"Pack a bag."
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"You're both coming with me."
I stepped between them.
"No."
"Cara—"
"No. You don't get to order us around."
Roman looked at me for a long moment.
Then he did something even more unexpected.
He asked.
"Will you please let me protect you?"
I almost laughed.
The most feared man in Chicago had just said please.
But before I could answer, Lily's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went white.
"Cara?"
"What?"
She turned the phone toward us.
A message from an unknown number showed a photograph of our apartment building.
Taken from across the street.
Seconds earlier.
Beneath it were six words.
He couldn't save Elena either.
Roman looked toward the window.
For the first time since I'd met him, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
Not for himself.
May you like
For us.
And then a gunshot shattered the glass.
Related Stories
