Chapter 9
"She funded the Petrovs," Roman repeated, his voice dropping to a freezing, barely audible whisper. The sheer magnitude of the betrayal echoed in the opulent room. His own mother hadn't just stolen from his daughter; she had financed the enemies who tried to kill him.
"That’s not all, Boss," Rafe continued, the panic in his voice rising. "There are payment schedules here. Large, lump-sum transfers made every quarter. The last payment went out two days ago. And it came with a specialized delivery contract."
"What kind of contract?" Roman demanded, his fingers tightening around the phone so hard his knuckles turned white beneath his tattoos.
"A hit squad, Roman," Rafe said bluntly. "She paid them for a targeted assassination. She gave them an address. It's an apartment building in the narrows. A studio apartment on the fourth floor."
Nora, who had been listening to the one-sided conversation, stood up so fast her chair screeched against the hardwood floor. Her fair skin turned the color of chalk.
"Roman," Nora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "That's our apartment. That's where we live."
Roman’s cold, sharp eyes snapped toward her. The pieces of Helena’s psychotic plan finally assembled themselves in his mind. Helena hadn't just intercepted them at the gala to be cruel. She had panicked because Nora and Sophie were supposed to be dead tonight.
"Secure the perimeter of the estate," Roman ordered into the phone, his volume incredibly low, speaking with absolute, lethal control. "Put every man on high alert. No one enters or leaves. Bring me the armory keys."
"Yes, Boss. We're locking it down now," Rafe confirmed before hanging up.
Roman lowered the phone. He looked at Sophie, who was happily eating a piece of warm bread, completely oblivious to the fact that heavily armed men were currently kicking down the door to her tiny apartment across town, intending to murder her in her bed.
"They were going to kill us tonight," Nora whispered, her whole body shaking violently as the realization washed over her. She grabbed the edge of the table to keep from collapsing. "If we hadn't come to the gala to beg for help... if we had stayed home..."
Roman crossed the room in two long strides and caught her by the arms, holding her steady. His deeply masculine presence anchored her to reality.
"But you didn't stay home," Roman said, his voice a steady, grounding force. "You are here. You are in my fortress. And they will never touch you."
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"But they know we survived!" Nora cried, tears of pure terror spilling over her rosy cheeks. "When they find the apartment empty, they'll know we ran! They'll come looking for us!"
"Let them come," Roman murmured, a dark, terrifyingly calm expression settling over his angular face. He reached out and gently stroked her hair. "I have spent three years playing the diplomat, consolidating power, keeping the peace. But if the Petrovs want to step into my city and hunt my family, I will show them exactly why I am the Boss."
