The Agreement (Darkest Lies Trilogy Book 1) by Bethany-Kris (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

Dima and Leonid waited in the room, too.

As he expected.

Leonid counted the cash, as usual, and Dima at least had the decency to look busy on his phone. He didn’t bother to glance up at Roman’s arrival.

Good.

He didn’t particularly want to look at the motherfucker, either.

“What do you have for me today, Roman?” Maxim asked, speaking jovially through the cigar that was clenched between his teeth. “Something good, yes? It better be.”

Roman deposited the duffle bags by Leonid’s feet so he could begin the count. Dima finally flicked a fleeting glance at him before turning to his father.

“We should test the vodka first,” he said, offering the word like he was continuing a conversation they were having already. Leonid nodded his agreement for his son’s idea, his hand waving at the liquor in question.

So, they were going to be drinking tonight.

Fun.

Like he needed another reason to loosen up his self-control.

Maxim had a few questions for Roman, and he posed them as Dima called for the servant in an attached section of the den to come ready the drinks. He tried not to show his surprise when Masha appeared between the doorway framed by old bookcases. Wasn’t she always with Karine?

It certainly seemed that way.

Except there she was.

Roman found himself considering whether Masha’s distraction with serving the boss during his tribute was another reason why Karine felt comfortable approaching him like she had earlier. Those thoughts ran wild in his head, the rebellious side of his nature lapping the idea up because it was yet another thing he wouldn’t have to worry about if he actually took Karine up on her offer.

Gonna get yourself shot, Roman.

Right, right.

He ignored his inner voice.

Instead, Roman tried to focus on the boss’s inquiries. The last thing he needed right now was to raise suspicions, but goddammit, he didn’t know how to act casual, anymore. If the men in that den knew any of the things he had done thus far with Karine—the room would be his own personal deathtrap.

Fuck walking the line.

Roman pissed all over it.

Maxim probed him on details about how the chop shop was being run, who was on his crew, and other aspects of his business that Roman still didn’t care to talk about with other people. Still, to keep that composure and facade up, he mechanically answered the questions—sipping on expensive vodka between each one while his mind was buzzing, trying to decide what he was going to do when he left that room.

The choice should be easy.

The right one was.

On the surface, yeah. Except the only problem with that was Roman had a feeling there was a lot at play in the Yazov household—and bratva. A lot of it was interconnected, and his selfish actions with Karine was only a small part of the bigger picture.

Until it wasn’t.

The way Roman saw it, technically, he only had three options. And none of them were great.

The first was that he did what Maxim would expect him to do as his boss—divulge the conversation he overhead Leonid having during a phone call. There was very little information he actually had about the details, but it was enough to alert the boss something might be brewing amongst his closest people.

There was just one problem with doing that—Roman couldn’t say Maxim was actually on his side. He demanded loyalty, but that didn’t mean he offered it. Men in high, dangerous positions were known for shooting the messenger. What if the plot was a trap that Leonid had set?

Roman wasn’t privy to everything.

Besides, did he really owe his loyalty to the Yazov Bratva? From personal experience, they were experts at manipulation and him being there in the first place was proof.

The second option was simply feeding his own selfish needs by taking the risk of spending the night with Karine. Even just the thought of that set his body on fire, the uncomfortable tightness of his pants being the proof that she only needed to be on his mind to capture all of his attention. He could still see her emerging from beneath the leafy tree outside, looking as sweet as sin and asking for him.

Spending the night with her possibly promised him two things—one was his dead heart in a box delivered to his mother, and the other was information. Karine could be his closest chance at finding out what was really happening inside the Yazov boss’s mansion. What might explain the strange things that were keeping him up at night. It was possible that she wasn't even aware she might have answers, too, but he wouldn’t know unless he asked. Or found where someone was hiding what he wanted to find.

Of course, the reality of that choice was painfully clear. If anyone even got a whiff of a hint that he’d spent the night with a spoken for woman like Karine, a boss’s daughter promised to a high-ranking man in her father’s organization, well ... nobody would hear from Roman again.

That early grave was calling.

The third and the most logical option was to fuck all that noise, and do the task he was sent to Chicago to do. Pay his dues, and beat feet to the pavement when the job was done. Nobody sent him there to solve mysteries, fuck their women, or uncover assassination plots. His sole purpose under the control of the Yazov boss was to earn money.

If his father was presented with the three choices—well, Roman knew exactly which one he would take. The only one that concerned his duty, and what was owed. Nothing more, and nothing less.

That was exactly why he hadn’t been calling Demyan, or answering his calls. If he heard his father’s voice—his choice would be inevitable, too.

“Good, it’s all here,” Leonid spoke up, interrupting the conversation between Maxim and Roman without apology. Two piles of cash sat high on the desk. One tower was the cash that was actually due—the second was just extra.

Bonus.

No boss refused that.

Maxim surveyed the