Chapter 36 A NARROW ESCAPE
••Roman••
“Hello brother,” Mildred greeted me as she and Luciana entered together.
Luciana did not look at me once. She walked past the living room like I was another piece of furniture, her steps calm and distant. There was no greeting, or no pause. She did not even pretend. She disappeared into her room, the door closing softly behind her, yet the sound landed heavier than a slam.
That quiet dismissal sat in my chest like a lodged blade.
Mildred turned toward me, hands on her hips, and eyes sharp with curiosity and something close to concern. I was seated on the couch with my laptop open, unread reports glowing on the screen while my mind refused to focus.
“Well,” she said, dropping into the armchair opposite me, “that explains a lot.”
I closed the laptop slowly, as if shutting it might also quiet the tension in the room. “Explains what?”
“The cold war happening in this house,” she replied.
I leaned back, forcing my shoulders to relax. “You are dramatic.”
She scoffed. “Roman, she barely acknowledges your existence. That is not drama. That is deliberate.”
I said nothing. There was nothing to defend that did not sound weak even to my own ears. Mildred studied me, her head tilting slightly, the way it always did when she was dissecting a situation she already half understood.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I answered immediately.
Her brow lifted. “That fast? You did not even think about it.”
“There is nothing to think about.”
She leaned forward. “Something happened, I can tell. She is not the type to sulk without reason.”
“She has reasons,” I said. “She just refuses to share them.”
“That is because you do not ask properly.”
I laughed once, humorless. “Properly?”
“Yes,” Mildred insisted. “Not interrogations or orders. An actual conversation.”
I straightened. “I asked her if something was wrong.”
“And how did you ask?”
“I asked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you soften your tone? Did you make her feel safe enough to speak?”
“I am her husband, not her therapist.”
Mildred frowned. “That right there is the problem.”
My jaw clenched. “I am the heir to a mafia empire. I do not beg for emotional clarity.”
She crossed her arms. “Have you ever seen a mafia empire fall because its leader refused to listen?”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is exactly the same thing,” she said quietly.
“Power means nothing if you cannot read the people closest to you.”
I stood up, and begin walking toward the doors. I would rather not continue this conversation with Mildred. “She chose silence when I asked. She dismissed me, and I will not chase her.”
Mildred followed me. “When did this start?”
“After we came back from a dinner with the Arab boss, Mustapha.”
“And you truly do not know why?”
“No.”
She hesitated, “She said something today. At the ice cream place.”
I stopped walking. “What did she say?”
“She said she hoped I would end up with someone who did not see me as a benefit or a burden,” Mildred said. “Someone who actually cared.”
The words struck deeper than I expected. I looked away, jaw tightening. “She is projecting.”
“Or she is hurting,” Mildred replied. “And instead of asking her why, you are hiding behind pride.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I asked her already,” I said finally. “She chose not to speak. That ends it.”
Mildred sighed, the sound tired rather than frustrated. “Suit yourself. Just know silence grows teeth if you let it.”
She walked away, leaving me alone with thoughts I did not want to entertain.
\----
The next morning came too quickly.
Luciana had wrapped up everything at Sapphire Lounge. The reports were clean, structured, and efficient. She had rebuilt it faster than I expected, with precision that left no loose ends. There was no more reason to stay, and staying any longer would raise questions. My father was not patient, and the longer I delayed returning to Russia, the more likely he would decide to come looking for me himself.
Duties were waiting in Russia.
Luciana was already outside when I stepped out, her bags neatly arranged, Mildred helping her move them toward the jet. They laughed quietly together, heads bent close, sharing something I was not part of. She still did not look my way.
I carried my single suitcase out.
Mildred noticed immediately. “Is that all you brought, brother?” she asked.
I lifted it slightly. “Am I supposed to pack my whole closet?”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
I scanned the area, instincts already sharpening. “Where is Theo?”
“He went to check the perimeter,” Mildred replied. “He said something about the cameras.”
I nodded, then stopped.
Something red caught my eye. At first, I thought it was a reflection. Then it moved. A small dot rested on Mildred’s sleeve.
My blood went cold.
“Mildred, stop,” I said sharply.
She continued walking, distracted. “Roman, relax. You look tense.”
“Mildred, stop moving,” I shouted.
She turned, confused. “What is wrong with you?”
I started toward her. “Do not move.”
Her smile faded. “Roman?”
The sound cracked the air. Gunfire.
I lunged forward, grabbing her just as the shots rang out. I pulled her down, shielding her body with mine as my men reacted instantly.
Chaos exploded around us. Shouts. Boots pounding. My guards returned fire. Theo barked orders, his voice cutting through the noise.
Mildred screamed. I felt her body jerk. Blood stained her arm.
“No,” I muttered, lifting her despite her protests. “Stay with me.”
More shots followed, but my focus narrowed to her shaking frame, to the weight of her in my arms, to the fury burning through my veins.
I carried her back inside, ignoring the noise, ignoring the panic, ignoring everything except her. Her tears soaked into my shirt as she clutched at me.
“It hurts,” she cried.
“I know,” I said firmly. “I have you.”
As I laid her down, my hands steady despite the storm in my chest, one thought cut through everything else.
This was no coincidence.
And whoever did this knew exactly where to aim.