Chapter 7 - The Morning After
Sadi slept terribly.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Roman’s mouth against hers, his heavy hands gripping her waist, his scent lingering on her skin like a permanent mark.
By 5:00 AM on Monday morning, she was standing in the grand kitchen of the Rossi estate, wearing her drab grey maid uniform and a white apron.
The house was deathly quiet. Down in the basement, the security detail was changing shifts. Upstairs, the master suite was silent.
Sadi stood over the stainless steel coffee machine, her hands shaking as she measured out dark roast espresso beans. She added a pinch of sea salt—just as he liked it—and hit the brew button.
She felt ridiculous. How was she supposed to serve him coffee after what had happened in his SUV? How was she supposed to look him in the eye and pretend she was just the woman who scrubbed his pans?
The heavy oak doors at the end of the hallway clicked open.
Footsteps echoed against the marble floor—heavy, measured, familiar.
Sadi’s stomach flipped. She turned quickly, picking up a silver tray, placing the mug of black coffee in the center, and smoothing down her apron.
Roman walked into the kitchen.
He was back in his natural element—wearing a tailored three-piece charcoal suit, a dark silk tie, and silver cuff links that gleamed under the overhead lights. His dark hair was combed back neatly, his jaw freshly shaved.
He looked every inch the dangerous king of Chicago.
He stopped near the marble island, his cold eyes sweeping over her.
"Good morning, Mr. Rossi," Sadi said, her voice small, professional, and carefully neutral. She set the silver tray on the counter. "Your coffee."
Roman didn't reach for the mug. He stood there, watching her, his presence filling the high-ceilinged room.
"Mr. Rossi?" he repeated, a faint, dangerous edge in his tone.
Sadi swallowed hard, looking down at her polished shoes. "We're back at the house, sir. The rehearsal dinner is over. Your alibi is secure."
Roman walked around the island.
Sadi stepped back, but the edge of the deep farmhouse sink caught her waist, trapping her.
Roman didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of her. He reached out, his long fingers cupping her chin, forcing her to look up into his dark, penetrating gaze.
"You think this was a game, Sadi?" Roman asked softly. "You think I spent six hours listening to your intolerable family just for an alibi?"
"Wasn't it?" Sadi whispered, her breath trembling.
Roman leaned down, his face inches from hers. "I have fifty men who would have gladly provided an alibi. I have judges on my payroll who would swear I was in a cathedral praying at the time of the Moretti hit."
May you like
His thumb brushed across her lower lip, reminding her instantly of the kiss in the SUV.
"I went to that dinner because I wanted to see you in that green dress," Roman growled. "And because I wanted every weak man in that room to know that you belong to me."
