Chapter 6 - The Price of Being Chosen
Derek arrived at the Rossi estate voluntarily.
That was either brave or stupid.
Sadi had not decided which.
Roman wanted the conversation downstairs in what everyone euphemistically called the security room.
Sadi refused.
“We’re talking in the library.”
Roman frowned.
“Why?”
“Because libraries encourage civilization.”
“No evidence supports that.”
“Roman.”
“Fine.”
Derek entered looking like a man who had recently learned every decision in his adult life had scheduled a meeting with him.
Amanda stayed away.
Good.
This belonged to Sadi.
She sat across from Derek.
Roman remained near the fireplace.
Not threatening.
Technically.
Derek glanced at him anyway.
Sadi placed the photographs on the table.
“Start.”
Derek swallowed.
“My father worked for Vescari.”
Roman’s expression changed.
Sadi said, “The art dealer?”
“Yes.”
“What did your father do?”
“Transportation. Documentation. Whatever Vescari needed.”
“And you?”
Derek looked down.
“I was twenty-two.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I followed your dad.”
Sadi felt physically sick.
“Why?”
“Vescari thought he had copied records.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You followed my father.”
“Yes.”
“And then years later you dated me.”
Derek closed his eyes.
“At first, yes.”
Roman shifted.
Sadi held up a hand.
Still her moment.
“At first?”
Derek’s face crumpled.
“I was supposed to find out whether your father left you anything.”
“How romantic.”
“Sadi—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“How long before it became real?”
“Almost immediately.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
“I loved you.”
“You monitored me.”
“At first.”
“And then you spent two years making comments about my body until I hated mirrors.”
Derek looked ashamed.
“That wasn’t part of anything.”
Sadi stared at him.
“That makes it worse.”
Silence.
Roman looked away.
Derek rubbed both hands over his face.
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“At myself.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Sadi leaned back.
“Why did you leave?”
Derek hesitated.
Then said, “Because Carlo Rossi found me.”
Roman’s head snapped up.
His older cousin.
Carlo had run collections and property operations for the Rossi organization for years.
Roman said, “What?”
Derek looked at him.
“He knew who my father was.”
Roman stepped forward.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Sadi remembered.
Exactly when Derek left.
“What did Carlo want?”
“The same records.”
Roman’s face went cold.
Derek continued.
“He told me if I stayed near Sadi, Moretti would eventually realize who I was. He said leaving her was the only way to keep her out of it.”
Sadi stared.
“So you protected me by destroying my self-esteem?”
Derek’s eyes filled.
“I thought if you hated me, you wouldn’t follow.”
“I didn’t follow.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me the truth.”
“I was afraid.”
Sadi nodded slowly.
“There’s that word again.”
Derek frowned.
“What?”
“Men keep being afraid and somehow women end up paying for it.”
Roman absorbed that quietly.
Derek told them everything.
Vescari’s laundering system had continued after his death.
Moretti inherited it.
Carlo Rossi had supposedly spent years investigating from Roman’s side.
But Roman had never authorized that investigation.
Which meant Carlo was lying.
They searched internal records.
By midnight, Roman found transfers.
Carlo had been receiving payments from Moretti-linked companies.
Roman’s oldest trusted family member had not been investigating the scheme.
He had been participating.
The betrayal landed heavily.
But Sadi had another problem.
“You originally offered to come to the rehearsal dinner because you needed an alibi.”
Roman’s gaze moved to her.
“Yes.”
“You knew the Morettis would be doing something that night.”
“A meeting.”
“And your men?”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Handled a separate dispute.”
“What does handled mean?”
He did not answer.
She stood.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Sadi.”
“No.”
She backed away.
“You knew I was desperate.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I would say yes.”
“I suspected.”
“You turned my humiliation into something useful.”
His face hardened.
“That was not all it was.”
“But it was part of it.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt worse.
Sadi nodded.
“At least you admit it.”
Roman stepped closer.
“By the time I saw you come downstairs in that green dress—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“Do not turn this into romance because you feel guilty.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Roman’s voice lowered.
“I offered because it benefited me.”
She looked at him.
“I went because I wanted to.”
Silence.
“And I stayed because I could not leave you there.”
Sadi’s eyes filled despite herself.
“That doesn’t erase the first part.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
No defense.
No manipulation.
Just acceptance.
It made leaving harder.
She did it anyway.
“I need space.”
Roman went still.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
His instinct was visible.
Calculate.
Control.
Define.
Then he forced himself not to.
“All right.”
Sadi picked up her coat.
At the doorway she turned.
“Roman?”
“Yes?”
“Carlo knows I found the paintings.”
“I know.”
“He’ll come after the records.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
“And maybe me.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“I am still leaving tonight.”
Everything in him resisted.
She could see it.
But Roman stepped away from the door.
“Your choice.”
Sadi left.
Three hours later, Roman received a photograph.
Sadi entering her apartment building.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it was a message from Carlo.
YOU FINALLY FOUND SOMETHING YOU CAN’T BUY.
Roman stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
NOW LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN LET HER CHOOSE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.
