Chapter 6 - The Confession in the Dark
When Roman returned to the penthouse near midnight, his clothes smelled faintly of cordite, rain, and ozone. He expected the penthouse to be dark, with Sky safely asleep in the master suite under the watchful eye of the internal security grid.
Instead, a single floor lamp was lit in the expansive living room.
Sky was sitting curled up on the edge of the oversized velvet sofa, staring out the massive glass windows at the glittering lights of the Manhattan skyline. She wore an oversized cashmere sweater that belonged to him, her bare legs tucked beneath her.
She heard the heavy click of the penthouse door and turned her head.
"You're bleeding," she said quietly, her voice carrying no fear—only a strange, haunting fatigue.
Roman paused, looking down at his hand. A small, jagged cut across his knuckles was oozing a thin line of dark blood, a souvenir from the warehouse confrontation. He hadn't even noticed it.
"It's nothing," Roman said, tossing his car keys onto the entryway table and walking slowly toward the seating area.
"It's not nothing," Sky whispered, standing up and walking toward him with cautious steps. She reached out, her fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently taking his large, calloused hand in hers. She inspected the cut with a tender, clinical care that contrasted sharply with the violence of the world he inhabited. "You live like this every day, don't you? Violence, threats, blood on your hands... waiting for the next enemy to try and tear your empire down."
Roman looked down at her hands holding his. For the first time since she had arrived in his world, he felt an unfamiliar, vulnerable crack in his armor.
"This is the world I built," Roman said, his voice losing its customary edge. "A world where weakness is punished and trust is a fatal error. Your father lived in that world too, Sky—he just wasn't strong enough to survive it. That's why he gambled your life away."
"I know," Sky whispered, a tear slipping silently down her cheek, catching the ambient light of the city below. "He never loved me. I was just a bargaining chip to him. A decoration for his dinner parties."
Roman’s jaw tightened. He reached up, his thumb wiping away the tear, his touch infinitely gentle despite the sheer destructive power he commanded. "He was a fool. Because the moment I saw you in that ballroom—fragile, exhausted, ready to break—I knew I would burn New York to the ground before I let anyone else hurt you."
Sky looked up into his dark, intense eyes, seeing past the terrifying reputation of the mafia boss, seeing the fierce, unyielding devotion burning beneath the surface. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady, powerful thud of his heart.
May you like
Roman froze for a second, stunned by the gesture, before wrapping his strong arms securely around her, holding her against him as if she were the only real thing in a world of ghosts.
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