Shadows of Deception Ch. 05

"My father isn't happy I'm rocking the boat."

Curiosity danced in Roman's voice as he leaned closer and asked, "What daring deeds have you undertaken to rock the very foundation of this boat?" His eyes alight with intrigue and mischief, eager to hear the answer.

"By being involved with you."

A sly grin spread across Roman's face, causing his brow to arch in intrigue and a hint of smugness. "And what, pray tell, did you tell your father?"

"I told him it's none of his business who I'm fucking." Roman's grin stretched wider, revealing his perfectly straight teeth, and he let out a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Good for you," he replied, his voice filled with satisfaction, and maybe just a hint of pride in her choice of words. "What did he say to that?" Belladonna's expression grew somber as she gestured to her face and his amusement promptly faded.

"Let's just say my father has a very specific idea about how to make the women in his life compliant," Roman's displeasure was evident, his jaw clenched, and his grip on her hand tightened.

"Then I presume, that you didn'tactually call the cops, and no such report or statement exists?" She nodded, she wasn'tthat stupid.

"I don't want you to get involved, Roman. It's complicated enough already," Roman's eyes bore into hers, burning with downright amusement.

"Oh, Angel," As Roman spoke, his hands dove into Belladonna's hair, tugging and teasing the strands between his fingers. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils as he pressed his lips against hers in a brief yet passionate kiss and for a second it felt like it was going to be alright. That Roman would just let it go.

"No one tells me what to do, not evenfake girlfriends,"

Or not.

If she had been leaning on him or expecting him to catch her, she'd have fallen harder than a teen girl with a celebrity crush. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, he let go of her hand and spun around on his heel, leaving her as one might discard an unwanted accessory. He began to walk away, his strikes long and purposeful, the kind of hard walk a man has when he's about to do something. Something very not good.

Her voice took on a more urgent tone. She reached out to grab his arm, her fingers gripping the luxurious fabric of his suit jacket, wrinkling it.

"I'm serious, Roman. Stay out of this! There's more at stake here than your pride."

But Roman remained stoic, adjusting his jacket as if preparing for a leisurely stroll. A small smirk played at the corners of his mouth, amused by sad little attempts to block the door. As if she could stop him. Her desperate pleas fell upon deaf ears as he confidently stepped past her and towards the door.

"Lunchtime Is over, Angel. Daddy has some work to do," His words dripped with menace and mockery.

Panic consumed Belladonna's voice as she frantically searched for the perfect words to stop him in his tracks from what she suspected would be a bloody rampage.

"Roman, no! Please, I'm begging you,"

But he only responded with a nonchalant smile and a playful remark, his dismissive demeanor remaining unshaken by her sudden outburst.

"Oh, kitten, that doesn'tsound like begging."

Belladonna didn't hesitate, her voice cracking with sincerity as she pleaded once more.

"Roman, please. Give me till tonight. I promise I'll answer all your questions; no more secrets, no more lies. Just don't do anything until I get off work. Please,"

Roman's stony facade cracked for a mere second as he gazed at her, his chiseled features morphing into a mask of curiosity; not pity. The figure before him was unrecognizable from the seductive Belladonna that had sauntered into his penthouse the night before. She trembled with genuine fear, but it wasn't fear of him; rather, it was the looming consequences of his pending actions.

What could possibly reduce a woman like Belladonna to her knees? With every fiber of his being resisting, he considered her plea, mentally calculating the potential dangers and repercussions. But in the end, he couldn't care less.

"--For me. Do it for me, please, baby," Belladonna's voice shook with a desperate plea, her fingers gripping Roman's hands like a lifeline.

He stopped in his tracks, curiosity burning within him. What did she say? His eyes searched hers, searching for answers.

"Say it again," He demanded, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Please, baby." Her voice was barely a whisper as she brought his hands gently to her lips, pleading with her touch. "Please."

Several long seconds passed by in complete silence. He was pretty sure she was actually holding her breath. Finally, before the poor thing passed out from lack of oxygen, he spoke with an edge to his voice.

"You're lucky you're sovery, pretty when you beg," Belladonna breathed a sigh of relief, her tension momentarily lifted. "Tonight. No more secrets. No lies, Angel. I don't give second chances."

With the agreement set, Belladonna nodded, trapped under Roman's intense gaze. Her soft lips pressed gently against the back of his hand in a thankful kiss.

"We're gonna keep quiet about this aren't we?" He asked, his voice low and serious. She nodded, she couldn't believe she had just begged him to wait and he had actually listened.

"If anyone asks what happened, you're going to tell them the police are handling it, and you can't talk about it, right?" He continued, his eyes never leaving hers.

Belladonna swallowed hard before nodding again. The last thing she wanted was for any more attention to be brought to her situation.

"You didn't call me or tell me because you didn't want to worry me,right?" She nodded one final time, he tilted his head like a disappointed parent or something. "Stupid really, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," She had a hunch he wanted to actually hear her say it and a simple nod wouldn't satisfy him. "Stupid."

"Ok, angel, let's get you back to work,"

Roman donned his mask of the doting boyfriend, guiding Belladonna back to the studio. His arm rested securely low around her hip. Every set of eyes in the room seemed to snap to attention as they entered, their gazes quickly scanning the couple for any sign of fear or aggression. The air was thick with tension and suspicion as they made their way through the crowd. Roman's facade of love and protection was flawless, but underneath it all, his true intentions remained hidden like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Roman should have been an actor, with his effortless charm and faux concern that seemed straight out of a Hollywood script. Even though she knew it was an act, it was Oscar-worthy.

"We'll handle this together, Angel." His velvety voice leaned in close, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before placing a gentle kiss on her bruised cheek and split lip. He lingered longer than necessary, his touch leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. "I'll have Lloyd pick you up, you call me if anything happens with the police." She didn't really hear his words; at least her relieved expression was genuine.

Turning her hand over, his lips found her palm once again, his lips were warm and soft. His voice was low as he murmured against her hand.

"You owe me a kiss, Angel."

Whether he was referencing her promise to kiss him whenever she saw him like she had the night before, or because she was still trying to convince him to do as she asked was anyone's guess.

Carefully orchestrated for all to see, Belladonna brushed her thumb against his lip, and just as she had the night before kissed him, albeit a little less tongue this time. Roman's embrace exuded a sense of protection, and onlookers couldn't help but be captivated by the display of affection.

"Till tonight, Angel."

She'd walked into Roman's penthouse last night head held high, like she owned the damn place. But her return trip was a far cry from the night before. She no longer strolled with the same unshakable authority she'd worn like a designer jacket on the runway. She felt like a completely different person than when she'd strutted into his home and strong-armed Roman into compliance. She hadn't taken no for an answer and hadn't let him dictate their conversation.

Now?

Well, she'd been dreading the trip all day. Sure enough, Lloyd picked her up when her day finally ended around nine o'clock and god bless him for keeping his'I told you so' limited to his expression only, he even held a bit of reserved sympathy for her.

Sweet kid.

The mood was dismal and she felt a bit like she was walking to her doom, or at least the doom of her dignity. Most of the lights were off and it was Zsasz's imposing figure outside the office leading her to the conversation she didn't want to have.

Roman waited for her behind that absurdly large desk of his, scotch in one hand and cigar in the other. The smugness radiated off him like heat from a fire. He lounged back in his chair, surrounded by swirling clouds of smoke and the clinking of ice in his glass. He could have been a Bond villain, but then what did that make her? The cat who sat in his lap? No, that title was probably Mercer's. His eyes fixated on Belladonna, his expression full of arrogance and mockery as she sat down across from him.

At least he had the courtesy to offer her a drink. A small rocks glass sat on the table in front of her, filled with a clear liquid that could have been rubbing alcohol, but she didn't care. She would have drunk anything at this point. She lifted a glass to her nose, the scent of a strong and potent vodka registered and she took a sip, throwing it back without hesitation; it's taste smooth and tingling.

"Not so confident tonight, are we, Angel?"

No shit.

Belladonna took a deep breath, "I'm gonna need something stronger than that," Referring to the now empty vodka glass.

Roman's demeanor shifted slightly, a touch of impatience in his voice. "Talk first. Booze later," Not a request, not a suggestion.

She nodded, her head feeling heavy as she tried to shake off the exhaustion that weighed down her body. As far as she could tell, Roman had kept his word - a promise was a promise after all. Even for a criminal, apparently. She rubbed her face in her hands, trying to ease the tension that had built up behind her eyes. Time wasn't on her side. She knew she must be already getting on Roman's last nerve with her constant procrastination. With a deep breath, she began recounting the events of the previous night, hoping she could make sense of it all before he lost his patience completely.

"My father found me again."

After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her gaze to meet his. His expression was inscrutable. "The media frenzy of the past few days brought him straight to my doorstep. He came to remind me to fall in line and keep with the family expectations."

Roman's expression hardened as he listened, his empathy mingling with his own experiences of familial disappointment. He took a puff of his cigar and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke twist and turn in the air. Then, he leaned in closer, fixing his gaze on Belladonna.

"And what are the old family expectations? What does he want?"

A look of genuine disgust crossed her face as she spoke, her voice filled with disdain. "He wants me to be single." Roman couldn't hide his amusement and let out a chuckle at the absurdity of the demand.

"Thing is, I'm sort of promised to someone,"

At that last addition features twisted with disbelief as if he was sure she was telling him a joke with a lame punchline. He clenched his jaw, processing the information. An arranged marriage?

Ridiculous. Who the fuck did that anymore?

"What the fuck do you mean'sort of promised to someone?'" His demanding tone was thick with irritation.

Belladonna, feeling defensive and worn down, shrugged her shoulders, "It's just what it sounds like, Roman."

Roman squinted at her confrontational stance, struggling to believe that he was considering her explanation. However, there was no faking the intensity of Belladonna's humiliation.

"Who is this supposedintended of yours?"

Belladonna scoffed dismissively, her tone dripping with bitter disdain. "I couldn't care less," she retorted, her frustration palpable. "He's just some old acquaintance of my father's, at least a couple decades older than me. It's all part of their game--old money, old family alliances," she explained, her voice tinged with discomfort as the memories resurfaced.

"I met him once when I was only fifteen," Belladonna reluctantly confessed. "The plan was for us to marry when I turned twenty-one. Because what's the point of getting married if I can't even be drunk for that train wreck of a wedding night?" Her words dripped with sarcasm and bitterness as she recalled the looming fate that awaited her.

"And yet it didn't. You're twenty-nine and still very single."

"There was a lot of scrutiny about the whole thing, the dying patriarchal practice of arranged marriages and the like and I convinced my father to let me finish college so it looked less... Gross." She shuddered.

"He agreed, then it was supposed to happen when I graduated at twenty-five. So, I naturally did everything in my power to put it off, changed my major, took extra classes, a few internships, but he was running out of patience. By the time I did graduate, I'd bought myself enough time and saved enough resources that I was able to disappear. Until now."

"Until now..." Roman echoed, sipping his drink. "And what about your fiance?"

She made a sour face, "Don't call him that, makes the whole thing seem legit." She shook her head, "The idiot is probably just sitting around waiting for a phone call. Haven't seen him since, but he was already in his late thirties back then. Honestly, just thinking about it makes me want to puke."

A long silence stretched before Roman spoke again.

"What's he got on you, Angel?"

Belladonna let out a long, ragged breath, her fingers curling tightly around strands of her hair as the tension in her body mounted. With a quick movement, she retrieved a cigarette from her coat pocket and brought it to her lips, lighting it with a flick of her lighter. The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of anger emanating from Belladonna. She took a slow drag before exhaling, meeting Roman's gaze with eyes that reflected both vulnerability and rage.

"My mother."

A shadow passed over Roman's face as he processed her words, his brow furrowing in confusion. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Her parents were still married, he had virtually every detail of Belladonna's life in a rather thick file and the whereabouts of her mother were no mystery. On the contrary, the woman seemed to live quite a posh life.

Belladonna exhaled a stream of smoke, watching it curl and twist in the air. Despite the bombshell she had just dropped, which didn't entirely make sense, Roman's demeanor remained composed and unreadable as he absorbed the revelations, his intense gaze never leaving Belladonna's face.

"Explain,"

"Gloria Black isn't my mother," She asserted with particular venom in her voice; the soft glow of the cigarette illuminated Belladonna's features, casting an otherworldly aura around her.

"My mother is an Italian immigrant, Maribella Caruso. She worked for my father as a housekeeper when she came to the country, and he had a thing for teenage girls." Roman's own features contorted in disgust at the implication and suddenly his drink couldn't mask the flavor of revulsion.

"He took her passport, cut her off from everyone and everything back home and when I was born she went right back to washing dishes and he kept me. His barren bitch of a wife can't have kids. I'm just the consolation prize of one of his many one-night stands."

"What happened to her?"

"She was around for a while, because as it turns out Gloria not being able to have kids was a blessing because she was a shit mother. So, sheallowed my mother to take care of me as a baby, when I was five I got sent to prep school and I started seeing her less and less. When I was sixteen I came home one day and she was just gone."

Pure rage emanated from her her lips curled into a snarl. "He said he worried for her well-being after a fit she threw and he sent her away to a facility because she'wasn't well.'"

"And he expected you to believe that?

"He didn't care what I believed." She exhaled another plume of smoke and fixed her gaze on a spot on the floor, her anger seething.

"Be a good girl, Bélla," she muttered bitterly in an exaggerated Greek accent. "The son of a bitch is hiding her somewhere from me. I haven't seen her since I was twenty-five."

Roman quickly calculated the time that had passed since Belladonna had seen her mother: four years. After she graduated, her father had completely cut off any contact between them. Roman was familiar with manipulation and unequal power dynamics, he leveraged them daily, but despite not having experience with strong parent-child bonds, Belladonna's father's cruelty was disturbing even to him.

"Hope he's not expecting some sweet little virgin bride?"

Roman's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Belladonna erupted into sudden laughter. The sound was rich and velvety, like the tinkling of crystal chandeliers. But it wasn't real laughter, he knew the sound, it was the kind of laugh someone did to keep from crying or screaming, it was a very fine line.

"I think he thought he was being so clever sending me to an all-girls prep school," She replied, her laughter tinged with a hint of irony. "Seemed to think I couldn't have sex if I wasn't around boys, and to some degree he was right. While other girls my age were havingsex,I was the only one havingorgasms."

A low, rumbling chuckle escaped Roman's lips as he listened to Belladonna's amusing take on the situation. Her hesitation melted away as he beckoned her closer, and she slowly rose from her seat, gracefully gliding around the desk towards him. She perched on the edge, her legs crossed in a confident and alluring manner, piercing gaze fixed intently on Roman as she regained some of her signature sass. Another ring of smoke curled from between her luscious lips as she hung on his every word, the fragrance of tobacco mingling with the alluring scent of her perfume.

"Angel," Roman began, his voice low and filled with a delightful combination of amusement and seriousness. His hand slid from her knee up her thigh. "I would've kept you for the fun of it, butnow? I just might do it out of spite."

A flash of irritation twisted her features as she scowled at his comment. She sprang up from the desk, forcefully shoving his hand off her leg before storming towards the liquor cabinet. With quick and efficient movements, she rummaged through its contents until she found a half-empty bottle of vodka. Without hesitation, she brought the bottle to her lips and took several long swigs straight from it, the sharp burn of alcohol filling her throat, and burring the sharpness of her anger. As she turned back to face Roman, there was a look in her eyes that he had never seen before - a mix of disappointment and anger, like a parent who had caught their child misbehaving.

"Well, I'm glad you find thisso amusing, Roman," There was no mistaking the anger that was now directed at him, "But I'm not really in the position to be spiteful. I've spent the last four years trying to find her. But I keep coming up with nothing. He used to let me see her once a year, you know? Then when I turned twenty-five, you know what said to me?" She let a moment of silence fall, though she didn't actually expect him to answer her. "He said I could see her next at my wedding. If I couldn't find her in four years, what would be different now?"