My Sweet Indulgence

Chapter 2: A Promise as a Sentence

The overcast sky could be yet another reason to weep in sorrow, to drown in the agony they must be feeling, but not even that brings out those feelings from the woman beside me. The one who lets me hold her hand as the minutes pass.

Since this morning, my dear and sweet fiancée has had plenty of reasons to cry, but she hasn't.

Because neither the arrangements for this funeral nor the realization that nothing will ever be the same, nor the urns descending to be buried, nor the grim weather that has formed since we arrived at the cemetery, have brought a single tear from Rebecca Reed.

She stands with her face hardened, her gaze brimming with hatred. And honestly, I can't judge her for that.

There is no sadness in her. Her expression holds only abhorrence, resentment, rage, contempt, and vengeance.

All that accumulation of dark emotions is in her as she watches the black earth being thrown onto both urns.

And I know this hurts her. She doesn't fool me; she's suffering as she watches. Inside, she's screaming with all her might, just like she screamed last night while looking me in the eyes without a hint of contemplation.

Her sharp gaze, her screams, her tears shouldn't have affected me, but something about everything that happened last night caused a change in me, and for the first time, since I became aware of her existence and what her life means to mine, I feel I have something in common with my sweet fiancée.

Resentment. For what those bastards did to her.

Rage. Because they made her cry. And no one, absolutely no one, makes my fiancée cry but me.

Only me.

And vengeance. I feel a damn unhealthy thirst for vengeance against those bastards.

An unhealthy thirst that pierces me to the core, and I don't intend to stand idly by in the face of their actions, because as much as I can't stand, hate, and don't want the woman who keeps squeezing my hand tightly, it doesn't mean I'll allow them to mess with her. Because at the end of the day, Rebecca Reed is mine, she's my fiancée, she'll be my wife, and she'll wear the Romanov as a crown.

They made her cry, they dared to disturb her peace, and that brings me into the equation, because she is mine, my responsibility.

Woe to anyone who dares to touch what belongs to the boss and considers coming out alive after that. They made a colossal mistake by attacking her parents, her brother, who is in my right hand. They don't know what's coming for them.

I am a calculating man, one who prefers to solve problems in the most elegant and clean way possible. The cleanest that can be considered in this blood-filled world where I grew up.

I'm a damn mobster, the devil himself in an expensive suit, elegant hairstyle, shiny shoes. I am kind as far as my morality allows me to show.

But never put me in a position where I have to show you how cruel and ruthless I can be, because I can sink the ship even knowing I'm on board too.

And she, Rebecca Reed, is experiencing it firsthand. Because what happened has led me to make a decision. One where her ship is sinking with her on board, dragging me down in the process just because I've finished burying it at the bottom.

Now I am cruel, now I am her enemy. Now I am the being she despises the most, putting myself in the same category as those responsible for this damn mess.

I turn to look at her when I feel her let go of my hand. Her green eyes no longer sparkle as they did two days ago. That shine has been replaced by a deep and burning hatred. It's a look that speaks volumes about everything she now feels and doesn't dare to expose in front of me, in front of all of us here.

Rebecca closes the small gap between us, lifts her chin with a haughty gaze, heavy with that dark feeling that contradicts everything she seems to be.

I tense up when she scrutinizes me, when she examines me with those piercing green eyes. She takes a deep breath and exhales with a dangerous calm that unsettles me.

"I promise you that when the day comes when you feel like what you love most is ripped away from you in one go, without anesthesia, without compassion... when you feel like I am feeling now... that day, Vlad Romanov, I will stop hating you with all my heart." Her words are sharp, dripping with disdain and resentment. She steps back and a hint of a smile forms on her lips

"And I will do it, only because I will take the day to revel in your misfortune."

She passes in front of me, without turning to look at me, without saying anything else to make me feel the way I do now. Selfish.

I hold my posture, my expression unperturbed despite the sobbing surrounding me, despite the family giving their last goodbye. I tell myself I shouldn't feel the way I do, I tell myself I don't deserve her treatment, because ultimately, I'm helping her, fulfilling my part in settling this debt, but Rebecca makes it increasingly difficult for me.

And of course, here in the cemetery, it would be no exception.

"Should I be worried, Vlad?" Christopher's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"She hates me for who I am, you know that. That's no reason to worry."

"She's lost, Vlad... we've both lost," he exhales. "She doesn't hate you for who you are, she hates you because she knows she won't see dad and mom again."

"She's blaming me for something I didn't do."

"And it's her way of dealing with that... grief. Let her be, her hatred will eventually wane and reason will make her understand your position."

I turn to look at him; he keeps his eyes fixed on his sister as she heads towards the van.

"Do you hate me, Chris?"

Since he woke up, since I explained what happened and everything I had to do, I never asked him. But the doubt was there, still here, inside me, gnawing at me, unsettling me. Because I should have acted like the boss and not like his brother.

"I would have done things differently, I would have acted impulsively and spilled a lot of blood, you know me..." he responds, looking me in the eyes. "But just as I've learned from you since my teenage years to speak your language... I've also learned to be cunning, thanks to you, Vlad. It hurts, I won't deny it. I feel the emptiness, it burns in my chest, but we can't lose our way. We must make those damn sons of Robert and Wanda pay. After that, we'll pay a little attention to our emotions."

He laughs a bit, reluctantly, but we both know it hurts more to accept that.

"They will pay with their own lives."

There's nothing more to say, nothing more to talk about. We both head towards the vans to return home, in silence, each immersed in our thoughts.

From this distance, I see how her cousin Launice hugs her and wipes her tears. Around her, her uncles. Agent Travis Roger, along with his wife, Caroline Roger Reed.

Who would have thought? My fiancée and my right-hand man are the niece and nephew of an agent who, to top it off, leads a special department.

But here we must pretend, so I have no choice but to act naturally.

Inside the SUV, the air feels heavy. The tension is palpable, like a rope stretched to its limit. I prefer silence to having to hear her venomous words. Not because they hurt me, but because I would have to show her a side of myself I dislike, one I prefer to keep hidden and only reveal in the environment where I operate, not here, inside the car, with my fiancée, the woman who, for the past two weeks, has been sleeping comfortably in my own bed.

The SUV convoy speeds towards the mansion. The engine roars, but in my mind, the sound is drowned out by the thoughts fighting for my attention. We don't stop, everything remains silent until the impact causes Rebecca to scream in fright. It's a scream that pierces me, breaking the bubble of tension in which I'm immersed.

The sudden stop jerks her forward. My entire body reacts by grabbing her by the waist, pulling her against me securely, preventing her from hitting her head, from flying forward, but I can't stop her desperate screams. I can see the fear in her eyes; it's real. And although I try to remain calm, I feel my own facade crumbling, since we've been through this before and were just getting over the sleepless nights and tears.

Rebecca stays frozen, her eyes fixed ahead, watching as the SUV that was hit spins uncontrollably until it veers off the road. It all happens in the blink of an eye, but every second feels eternal. The gunfire roars on, like a chaotic symphony threatening to consume everything. My mind races, evaluating possibilities, searching for an escape. I draw my weapon, check if it's loaded, and make her take cover as soon as I open the door.

There's no time to hesitate or think. I crouch instinctively, taking cover behind the open door as my eyes scan the chaos unfolding around us.

The gunfire continues to echo, each blast a call to action. I feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a fire that drives me to move, to protect Rebecca and face the threat looming over us.

I see Dimitri step out, and Christopher too, despite his condition, giving me a determined look.

I grip my weapon, breathing deeply, preparing for what's to come.