Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind Roman’s Empire
Roman did not tell Mave everything.
Not that night.
Instead, he took her home.
He waited outside her apartment.
“You need to sleep.”
“So do you.”
“I'll sleep when you're safe.”
Mave looked at him.
“You can't protect me every second.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
He hesitated.
“Then I need you to know the truth.”
She opened the door.
“Come in.”
Roman stepped inside.
Her apartment was tiny.
A couch.
A kitchen table.
Two mismatched lamps.
Books stacked on the floor.
Her mother's photograph on the wall.
Roman looked around.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“You make a whole restaurant look bigger than this place.”
She laughed.
“Rich people have strange priorities.”
He sat.
“I wasn't always rich.”
She looked at him.
“My father built everything through shipping.”
“Legal shipping?”
Roman gave her a look.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“He made deals with people he shouldn't have.”
“And you inherited it.”
“Yes.”
“But you're not like him.”
Roman looked down.
“I became him for a while.”
Mave sat beside him.
“What happened?”
“My brother was killed.”
“Vincenzo?”
“No. My younger brother, Luca.”
Roman's voice changed.
“Luca wanted out.”
“Out of the family business?”
“Yes.”
“He tried to leave.”
“And?”
“They killed him.”
Mave reached for his hand.
Roman let her.
“I thought it was rivals.”
He swallowed.
“It was my uncle.”
Mave's eyes widened.
“The same uncle who supposedly died?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“Control.”
Roman explained.
His father's empire was built on legitimate businesses, but a hidden network ran beneath them.
Vincenzo had wanted to convert the entire organization into something far more dangerous.
Roman refused.
So the family began destroying itself.
“I took control to stop him.”
“And that made you a mafia boss.”
Roman nodded.
“I didn't choose the title.”
“But you chose the life.”
“Yes.”
“Why stay?”
“To protect people who couldn't protect themselves.”
She stared.
“That sounds noble.”
“It isn't.”
He looked at her.
“I've done terrible things.”
“I know.”
“I've hurt people.”
“I know.”
“I don't want you thinking I'm something I'm not.”
Mave squeezed his hand.
“I don't.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Do you regret meeting me?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
He leaned toward her.
Then stopped.
Mave whispered, “Why did you stop?”
“Because I don't want to take something you haven't freely given.”
Her heart beat harder.
She closed the distance.
Their kiss was slow.
Careful.
Almost uncertain.
When they parted, Mave laughed softly.
“I suppose I'm your type after all.”
Roman smiled.
“No.”
“What?”
“You're not my type.”
She pushed his shoulder.
“Rude.”
He caught her hand.
“You're better.”
She stared.
“You're the only type I want.”
She kissed him again.
For a few minutes, there was no empire.
No violence.
No danger.
Just two people trying to build something they had never believed possible.
Then Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“We found Vincenzo.”
Mave stood.
“Where?”
“Manhattan.”
“Who told you?”
“Celeste.”
“She's alive?”
“Yes.”
Mave exhaled.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
Roman picked up his coat.
Then he looked at Mave.
“Stay here.”
She shook her head.
“I'm coming.”
He frowned.
“You've become impossible.”
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
They went to meet Celeste.
She looked shaken but alive.
“I never wanted to be involved,” she said.
Roman stared.
“Then why help him?”
“I didn't.”
She handed him a folder.
Inside were financial records.
Mave recognized the names immediately.
Several companies were being transferred.
But something looked wrong.
She pointed.
“That's not a sale.”
Roman looked at her.
“What?”
“This is a trust transfer.”
She scanned the language.
“Someone is moving beneficial ownership.”
Roman frowned.
“Meaning?”
“The person who looks like the owner isn't actually the person controlling the asset.”
He stared.
“Who is the actual beneficiary?”
Mave traced the document.
Then stopped.
Her own name appeared.
She looked up.
“Roman.”
He went still.
There was another line.
The trust had been established fifteen years earlier.
Before Roman had even met her.
“How?”
Mave shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Celeste looked terrified.
“Your father knew her.”
Roman turned.
“Why would my father know Mave?”
No one answered.
The mystery deepened.
Then Roman noticed a signature at the bottom.
Thomas Costa.
His father.
Beside it was another name.
Mary Miller.
Mave's mother.
Mave felt the room tilt.
“My mother knew your father?”
Roman stared at the document.
“Apparently.”
May you like
And suddenly the relationship between them looked less like coincidence.
Their families had been connected long before either of them knew the other's name.
