His Smile: A Mafia Romance

by Katerina Winters

  He almost let out a growl of satisfaction at the rapid pulse beneath his hand and the sudden shock in her eyes. “I see that I’m going to have to start reminding you again just exactly who I am,” he rumbled.

  Grabbing his wrist softly with both hands, she stroked his offending hand with a gentle caress. “Like that you’re an incredibly attractive psychopath?”

  Where the hell did this girl come from? Roman couldn’t tell a she was naïve, stupid, or just insane.

  “Pity, and here I thought I could go a day without wanting to kill you,” he said, tightening his grip by a fraction. “I guess that disproves your theory that I like you.”

  Unfazed by his grip, she lifted a finger pointedly. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that…”

  Her phone started to ring. Rahina‘s face lit up in excitement as she pulled out the phone from her pocket. Letting her go, Roman sat back and watched her.

  “I have to take this, it’s the company,” she was already hopping from his desk and swiping the phone to answer.

  Taking a deep breath, he renewed his control she threatened to destroy and opened his laptop. With a few clicks, Roman forwarded the incriminating email to the necessary people.

  “Okay, thanks for letting me know,” tapping the screen, Rahina stood in front of the couch staring blankly ahead. It was probably the first time he had ever witnessed her standing still.

  “What is it?” He demanded, pulling her attention back to the present.

  “Oh, it’s nothing really,” she threw him a wan distracted smile before looking down to her feet. For a few minutes, she didn’t say anything, she just stared absently at the ground while she walked an invisible line in the carpet. Placing her sock-clad feet one in front of the other, she pointed them outwards performing one of the many basic ballet positions. “I just got some info I didn't want to hear.”

  Ignoring her fidgeting, Roman pressed her further. “Which is?”

  She didn’t respond immediately, leaning forward she raised her right leg up. Roman watched as her leg extended higher than he expected as she balanced perfectly on one foot, keeping her chest high and straight. All the while, her somber expression remained, bothering him greatly.

  Eventually spoke, keeping her eyes locked on a point above his head. “They plan on having a tryout for the lead role in the upcoming play, La Sylphide, and whoever gets the role will also be named principal position at the company.”

  Nodding, he understood now. “I would not think having to try out for the role would be uncommon.”

  Straightening to stand, her shoulders drooped as she walked heavily back towards him, her feet thumping against the floor. Sitting back on the edge of his desk, she crossed her legs on top of it and propped her chin onto her folded hands. “No, it’s not uncommon, but I feel like I have been “trying out” for a year now.” The exhaustion in her voice was evident. “Theodore, the director, is known for knowing exactly what he wants and making a command decision. What I can’t understand is why he is having a hard time on this decision!” Angry now, she sat up straight with her eyes igniting with indignation as she explained her case further. “If they wanted a demanding, egotistical harpy who refers to herself as a prima ballerina then sure, pick Nadia. But Theodore knows me, and my dancing speaks for itself. He knows I can out-perform anyone, plus I’m pretty easy-going and not at all demanding to work with.”

  “Then maybe you should be,” he offered. “Only the bold get exactly what they want in life.”

  Considering his words, she looked out the window behind him for a few moments.

  “You’re absolutely right,” smiling with renewed energy, Rahina hopped down from his desk and stood with her fists on her hips. “I should start being bold right now.”

  Roman had been in enough situations in his life to know when something unexpected was about to happen, and he knew instinctively this was going to be one of those moments. Swiveling his chair in her direction, he looked up to her eager grin and waited.

  “Roman,” she pointed at him, barely holding back a laugh. “You and I both know you are unbelievably sexy under those clothes; I demand that you remove your shirt.”

  Obediently, he stood up facing her. Giving her a slow spreading smile, he reached up and began unbuttoning his black button-down shirt. Her reaction was better than he anticipated. Going stiff, her eyes bounced between his and his hands in shocked panic. With both hands, she grabbed the tops of his hands to stop his progress, he already had three buttons undone.

  “I didn’t mean it!” She yelped. “I was just joking.”

  Roman shook his head slowly. “No, no, you started this, now I want to see where this is going to go.”

  Hopping backward away from him, she rounded the desk putting it between them. She was still laughing, but Roman could easily see the trace of nervous excitement in her eyes.

  “The only place this will go is you being shirtless, me snapping a picture for my own records of course, and then me running away.”

  Planting his hands on his desk, Roman leaned forward and gave her a look of dark excitement. “Do you think I can’t lock that door from here? By the time you’re halfway there, I will have locked it and be coming around my desk to pick up where we left off.”

  Long black eyelashes fluttered in startlement as she processed his words. Christ, there was something so strikingly innocent the way her round, expressive eyes widened or the way she pressed her lips together to moisten them. She was like a kitten trying to play in the den of hungry wolves. Reality reminded him of its presence, this had to end. Why the hell was he even entertaining her like this, dammit? Her bright naïve smile had lured him in, made him ignore the glaring difference in their worlds—but he was awake now.

  Standing up straight, Roman exhaled and gave her a piercing stare. “Today will be our last meeting, our last lunch, and the last time I see you,” he explained carefully, making sure there was no confusion in the bubbly dancer’s mind.

  “What?” Surprised, she blinked a couple of times before marching back around his desk to stand in front of him. “Why? What happened?”

  Roman was not accustomed to repeating himself, nor was he in the mood to argue with her. Taking a threatening step forward, he crowded her close. “Why? Because you are quite literally dancing with the devil. You have no fucking idea what kind of man I am and the things I have done. Do you know how many people I have killed, Rahina? How many enemies I have made? My world is so inconceivably evil, you could never truly comprehend it, nor would I want you to.” For the briefest moment, Roman felt the overwhelming urge to tuck the stray strands of hair that escaped her bun back behind her ear. He wanted to feel her skin again one last time, but he didn’t trust himself. Strengthening his resolve, he hardened his gaze. “Bottom line, you provided temporary entertainment, and now you do not. Leave and do not come back.”

  She made a sound in her throat that sounded as if she was going to say something but suddenly stopped herself. Her fists tightened at her sides and hurt sparkled in her eyes back at him. With years of practice, Roman masked his emotions behind a cruel gleeful grin.

  “Fine,” she turned on her heel and began looking for her shoes. Grabbing her backpack, she stuffed her books into it, keeping her back towards him. Hoisting the bag onto her shoulders, she stood stiffly in the middle the room, facing the door. “I thought we were getting along.” There was a cracking softness to her voice, a vulnerable tone he never once heard her use before. The sound of it only reinforced his decision.

  Tilting his head back, Roman directed his cold gaze at the back of her head. “The guards at the gate will be informed not to let you in, and if you try to persist, I will call your overeager brother and see if he can’t rectify the issue.”

  Still not turning to face him, her shoulders stiffened. “I understand,” she whispered.

  Saying nothing else, she walked towards the door.

  Looking at his desk, he spotted her phone sitting at the corner. “Your phon
e,” he called out.

  Stopping immediately, she backed up and extended her arm out behind her with her palm upward, saying nothing.

  Normally, this would be the time he would say something cruel, to maliciously ask if she was crying. Looking down at her hand however, he could see the slight tremor in her body, and he knew the answer already. Setting the phone gently in her hand, she took it and walked out the door.

  Chapter 8

  “So, Dimitri tell us,” sitting behind his desk, Mikhail leaned his elbows on the surface and spread his hands outward towards them, indicating all of them in attendance. “Just what the hell is going on with Roman?”

  Leaning against the back wall of Mikhail’s office, Mosca looked around to the occupants. Sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk was Dimitri, while Alexei sat deathly quiet on the couch against the far wall. Glancing at the accountant, Mosca noted the way Alexei flexed and popped his knuckles on his right hand. From the moment they walked in, the man had yet to say a word. It was plain to see that Alexei was furious.

  Lolling his head back, Dimitri turned slightly and gave Mosca a provoking smile. “Care to explain?”

  Moscow ignored the unspoken accusation in Dimitri’s tone and straightened from the wall as he looked from Alexei to Mikhail. “At the end of last week, Roman sent Rahina from his office and issued orders for security not to allow her back in.”

  There were a few seconds of silence before Alexei answered.

  “You are telling me, that fucking bastard came into my office acting like a goddamn lunatic because he got into a fight with that girl?” Alexei’s voice was so tight and restrained just like his posture, Mosca feared that the ex-enforcer might snap and spring from his seat at any moment in a storm of fury. And though Mosca could understand Alexei’s anger after his meeting with Roman earlier that day, Mosca would not hesitate to shoot the man before he let him within striking distance.

  Dimitri gave Alexei a mocking sympathetic nod in agreement. “Yes, that sums it up.” Waving in Mosca’s direction, he gave an evil smirk. “If you’re feeling the urge for violence please direct your fists towards Mosca, since he was there the day all my hard work was destroyed.”

  Mosca didn’t dare take his eyes off Alexei to glare at Dimitri. Keeping his face expressionless, Mosca stood still as he watched Alexei’s cold eyes snap to his before going back to Dimitri’s. With a growling sigh of annoyance, Alexei sat back against the couch cushion temporarily subduing his need to punch something. Mosca let out a concealed sigh. When he had first joined the organization years ago, back in Russia, Mosca had only heard rumors about Vladimir’s top fighter, Alexei Petrov. Tales of his brutal fights were passed around amongst the men, each gorier and more savage with each retelling. By the time he met Alexei, Mosca had been positive they were exaggerated. What underground fighter had a face that good looking? It was impossible! Alexei was originally supposed to be Roman’s captain when Roman was first sent to America, and fortunately for Dimitri, the fighter was picked up and thrown in prison giving Roman the opportunity to take Dimitri as his captain instead. After a few years, Alexei was out and showed a real skill for numbers and was sent directly to work under Roman. A cold fact, Roman reminded Alexei of earlier today.

  It had been the third time Roman had been to Alexei’s office uninvited in a week. Standing side by side, both Dimitri and Mosca had watched as Alexei confronted Roman.

  “Roman why the fuck are we doing this? This is the second time you forced me to stay late to run numbers on something we have already discussed,” Alexei had stood with his knuckles pressed against his desk and spoke through gritted teeth.

  Roman sat very still in one of the two chairs in front of Alexei’s desk. The office was at the top of a skyscraper downtown, the view behind Alexei’s desk displayed the city below gleaming against the night sky. Quietly, Roman stood up from the chair, and Mosca could see Alexei’s whole body coil tighter in response at the boss’s cryptic mood. Mosca felt the slight shift next to him before he heard Dimitri’s whisper.

  “Vladimir wouldn’t want Roman to kill Alexei. If it comes down to it, shoot Alexie in the leg before the boss gets ahold of him.”

  Mosca wasn’t sure how the fuck that was supposed to happen, not without having his gun already out and ready. Roman was damn fast.

  With one hand in his pocket, Roman looked down at the floor in thought as he carefully walked around to the side of Alexei’s desk.

  Looking up, he gave Alexei and unfathomable look. “Are you forgetting how this,” Roman motioned back and forth between himself and Alexei with one hand, “works?”

  Alexei’s mouth twisted into an angry sneer but Roman continued before he could say anything.

  “I have apparently been too lax with you,” there was a lethal bone chilling softness to Roman’s deep voice that Mosca had never heard before. “Because, for some reason you are under the impression I need to ask for your permission when we both know, it is the other way around.”

  Stepping fully around the desk, Roman stood only a foot away from Alexei’s seething figure. A few inches taller than the man, Roman continued to stare at Alexei with an unreadable blank face. Taking his hand from his pocket, all three men stared in coiling tension as Roman rested the flat of his fist against the top of Alexei’s desk, directly next to the tiny silver picture frame. The frame was the only ornament on the large desk, and they all knew who was in the photo. He was daring him, Mosca realized. Roman was actually daring Alexei to go against him— he was picking a goddamn fight.

  “Everything you have is by my grace, my protection,” Roman went on to explain, never once taking his eyes away from the burning fury in Alexei’s gaze. “I am the true face of your power. When you want things done, whose weight do you think is actually being thrown around?” Roman smirked cruelly. “It sure is fuck is not yours. Whose men guard your building? Protect your family? Whose name is on all the fucking accounts?”

  Tension serrated the air around them as Alexei’s eyes narrowed, but thankfully, he said nothing.

  Staring at Alexei a couple of moments longer, Roman finally turned away and walked back around the desk, removing a folded envelope from inside his suit jacket. Tossing it on the desk, he walked to the door. “The recent Russo transaction. Clean it and transfer it by the end of the week.”

  Mosca was still exhausted from that visit earlier, it had felt like at any moment Alexei was going to explode and by the looks of it, he still might.

  “You’re not the only one he has been to visit,” Mikhail offered solemnly to the brooding accountant. “Roman has been in my office nearly every day this week inquiring about upcoming shipments and current inventory, all information he could have read on my reports I copy him and on to Vladimir. But I tolerated it, I said nothing of the constant interruption until I came home to find him sitting on the couch rubbing my wife’s feet and discussing baby names.”

  Dimitri gave Mikhail a tired grin as he leaned forward in his seat, scrubbing his face. “I know you don’t care, but that time spent with Misha helped his mood that night at least for a little bit.”

  “You are right, I do not care. He should find his own woman,” Mikhail snarled back.

  Shaking his head, Dimitri stood up and leaned with both hands on the back of the chair and shot Mikhail a beleaguered look. “That just brings us back to the current issue at hand.”

  “You mean the issue that Roman is losing his goddamn mind because he dumped the girl you forced on him?” Alexei growled caustically.

  Mosca watched Dimitri reach the end of his patience. Just like him, the captain was exhausted from dealing with their boss’s violent mercurial moods. Every moment this week felt like months in a silent war, both of them doing their best to make sure Roman didn’t kill anyone.

  Standing straight Dimitri gave both men unyielding looks. “Look, this was just a courtesy call. I’m letting you both know why he is acting this way and what to expect. This,” Dimitri paused for
emphasis and pointed to the floor. “Is just him being a minor inconvenience. What you two are not seeing is the daily uptick in his aggression. The other day, instead of sending me or Mosca or any other enforcer, Roman himself walked into the home of our guy, Blakely, that we have established at the DA’s office. We had been waiting a week now on advanced intel on a high-profile proceeding, the man claimed he still didn’t have the information we needed— Roman put the man’s head through a plate glass window in broad fucking daylight with tons of witnesses.” Neither one of the two men flinched, but Mosca could see the reality of the situation sink into their eyes. Dimitri continued. “We received the file with all the current data we were looking for the next day. My point is gentlemen, this will get worse before it gets better and we either better think of something fast or just be prepared to deal with him because in case you haven’t noticed, Roman hasn’t smiled in a week.”

  ~*~

  Taking his seat in the private box seat, Roman stared blankly down at the murmuring crowd filling the red velvet seats of the opera house. Around him, the opulent gilded walls and marble columns stood quiet and regal, infusing the patrons with a hushed sense of majestic eagerness. Quietly, the orchestra readied their instruments as the eyes of the crowd looked past the carved Baroque finishes and stared at the heavy red stage curtain in anticipation.

  The lights dimmed, and slowly the first dulcet tones of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake filled the air as the curtain lifted.

  Looking past the pale dancers, Roman let his mind wander; Act III was still a long way off. It had been twelve days since he told her to leave and every day since he had paid for that decision. Around him, the world turned gray and lifeless. The ennui he had not felt in weeks came back with the crushing force, overtaking every aspect of his life, spreading like cancer. Roman should have never let her in his life. She was a goddamn witch, some sort of enchantress who filled the dark corners of his world with addicting dazzling light. A light so bright and unrestrained that was now suddenly gone.