Chapter 4 - A Dangerous Alibi
The dinner progressed like a bizarre, high-stakes theatrical performance.
Roman played the role of an insanely wealthy, deeply obsessed boyfriend with frightening, perfectionist accuracy. Throughout the three-course meal, he never truly withdrew his presence from Sadi. If he was speaking to her uncle about real estate trends, his left hand remained anchored on the back of Sadi's chair, his thumb occasionally rubbing against her bare shoulder. When the waiter brought the dry, overcooked chicken breasts, Roman quietly signaled the head maitre d' and had a fresh, custom-cut filet mignon brought out specifically for her within six minutes flat.
Sadi watched in absolute fascination as her mother desperately tried to grill Roman about his family history, his wealth, and his intentions with her daughter.
"So, Roman," Eleanor chirped, taking a heavy gulp of her Chardonnay. "Rossi Real Estate... do you have holdings in the suburbs, or do you stay primarily in the city core?"
"We acquire properties wherever we find value, Eleanor," Roman replied smoothly, cutting his steak with clinical precision. "Though my primary focus is risk management and territorial consolidation."
"Territorial consolidation! Sounds so aggressive!" Eleanor laughed nervously, fanning herself with her cloth napkin. "And how long have you two been... romantic?"
Sadi nearly choked on her water.
Roman didn't flinch. He set his fork down, turned his head slowly toward Sadi, and looked at her with an intensity that made her core melt into hot liquid. "Five months," he stated calmly. "It took me four months to convince her to go on a date with me. Sadi doesn't give her affection away easily. She is... exceptionally guarded."
Derek snorted into his wine glass across the table. "Guarded? Sadi? Please. She used to bake me three-course meals every time I had a bad day at the office."
The atmosphere at Table 4 plummeted below freezing in less than a second.
Roman turned his gaze slowly toward Derek. The ambient warmth he had been projecting instantly vanished, replaced by the terrifying, predatory stillness that made hardened criminals shiver in Chicago back alleys.
"Is that so?" Roman asked quietly.
"Yeah," Derek boasted, clearly feeling emboldened by the third glass of cabernet. "She's a caretaker type. Always trying to please people. It gets a little overwhelming, honestly. You know how big girls are—always trying to make up for—"
BANG.
Roman didn't raise his voice. He simply brought his heavy, palm flat down onto the mahogany table. The entire table leaped three inches into the air. Water glasses sloshed over, silver utensils rattled loudly, and Eleanor let out a sharp, terrified squeak.
The entire banquet room went utterly dead silent.
Roman stood up slowly, looming over the table like a dark thunderstorm. He adjusted the cuff links of his charcoal suit, his eyes locked onto Derek with pure, unadulterated murder.
"You will finish your drink, pick up your phone, and move to another table," Roman said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying register that vibrated through the floorboards. "If you speak another word regarding my partner's character, her body, or her past, I will personally ensure that your career in financial accounting ends by sunrise tomorrow. Do you understand me, Derek?"
Derek’s face drained of every drop of color. He looked around the table for help, but his fiancée was staring at her lap, terrified, and Eleanor was practically cowering behind her wine glass.
"I... I was just joking—" Derek stammered out, his hands shaking so violently he almost dropped his phone.
"I don't joke," Roman repeated coldly. "Leave."
Derek scrambled out of his chair so fast he nearly knocked it over, grabbing Amber by the elbow and virtually sprinting toward the back bar area.
Sadi sat frozen in her seat, her heart pounding in her ears like a heavy drum. No one had ever stood up for her like that. No one had ever defended her honor with such terrifying, unyielding force.
Roman quietly sat back down, smoothing his jacket. He turned to Eleanor, whose hands were trembling violently. "My apologies for the outburst, Eleanor. I have zero tolerance for disrespect toward things that belong to me."
"Oh... of course! Perfectly understandable!" Eleanor squeaked out, sweating through her silver dress. "Derek was always... so coarse!"
Roman turned his gaze to Sadi. Underneath the table, hidden beneath the drape of the white tablecloth, his large, warm hand slid up her bare inner thigh, his fingers gripping her firmly through the emerald fabric of her dress.
"Are you alright, carina?" he whispered softly, his gray eyes searching hers.
Sadi swallowed hard, her body humming with a wild, intoxicating electricity. "I'm... I'm more than alright," she whispered back.
May you like
Suddenly, Roman’s phone buzzed sharply in his breast pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the encrypted screen, and his jaw locked tightly. He typed a two-word reply, locked the screen, and placed it back inside his suit.
The alibi was set. The Moretti meeting on the South Side had just been executed. And Roman Rossi was sitting at a suburban country club, holding the thigh of a maid in an emerald dress, entirely untouchable.
