Chapter 3 - The Wolf Inside the House
Working under Roman Mercer was nothing like I had imagined.
True to his word, the contract he placed before me wasn't a gilded cage; it was an ironclad shield. My salary tripled overnight, depositing directly into my bank account every Friday without fail. The medical insurance kicked in immediately, covering every single one of Eli's specialized cardiology prescriptions and scheduling his long-overdue specialist checkups at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
For the first time in six months, I slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, terrified that the electricity would be shut off or that Eli would run out of his life-saving heart medication.
Yet, stepping into Roman's elite, high-society world came with its own heavy, suffocating dangers.
Two weeks into my new role as his personal attendant and private server during high-profile underworld meetings, the dark reality of his empire reared its ugly head.
It was a rainy Thursday night. The private dining room on the penthouse floor was packed with twelve men—regional bosses, cartel representatives, and corrupt politicians who kissed the ring of Don Mercer. I moved silently around the mahogany table, refilling crystal glasses with expensive scotch and clearing away appetizer plates.
I kept my eyes down, exactly as Roman had instructed me to do when dangerous company was present.
Then, a voice cut across the murmurs of the room—a voice belonging to Viktor Novak, a brutal, unpredictable Bratva boss from the north side of the city. Novak was notorious for his violent temper and his complete lack of respect for anyone outside his immediate circle.
"You're getting soft, Roman," Novak barked, leaning back in his chair with a cruel, mocking grin. "Ever since you hired this little waitress to hover around your table, your focus has drifted. You used to drown your enemies in the harbor. Now you're playing house."
The entire room went dead silent. Every man at the table froze, holding their breath, waiting for Roman to pull a weapon and put Novak in his place.
Instead, Roman remained completely still, his pale gray eyes fixed coldly on Novak's face. "Watch your tongue, Viktor. You're a guest at my table."
Novak laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He turned his heavy, bloodshot eyes toward me as I reached across his place setting to remove an empty plate. Before I could pull back, Novak's thick, calloused hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing painfully hard.
"Tell me, little bird," Novak sneered, pulling me toward him, his breath smelling heavily of vodka and cheap cigars. "Does the great Don Mercer pay you just to pour drinks, or does he share you with his friends after hours?"
A collective gasp echoed around the table.
My heart leaped into my throat, panic flaring hot and bright in my chest. But before I could even open my mouth to scream or strike him, a blur of motion erupted from the head of the table.
In a fraction of a second, Roman stood up so fast his heavy oak chair crashed backward onto the marble floor with a deafening thud.
Before Novak could even blink, Roman had vaulted across the table, his hands gripping the front of Novak’s silk shirt. With terrifying, inhuman strength, Roman hoisted the massive Bratva boss right out of his chair and slammed him backward against the reinforced glass wall.
The entire penthouse shook from the impact.
Viktor Novak gasped for air, his face turning purple as Roman's forearm pressed brutally against his windpipe, cutting off all oxygen.
"You touch her," Roman whispered, his voice dropping into a register so dark, so dripping with pure, unadulterated murder that every hardened criminal in the room visibly shrunk back in their seats, "and I will personally carve your throat out with a dull kitchen knife, wrap your body in chains, and drop you to the bottom of Lake Michigan before this glass of scotch hits the floor."
Novak clawed frantically at Roman's arms, his eyes bulging with sheer, unadulterated terror. "R-Roman... please... I swear... I didn't mean..."
"Get out of my house," Roman hissed, releasing his grip just enough for Novak to draw a ragged breath. "If you ever set foot in my territory again, you won't leave alive."
Novak didn't hesitate. He stumbled backward, coughing violently, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair, and bolted for the private elevator without looking back.
The heavy silence in the room was absolute. The remaining eleven men sat frozen, their eyes glued to the table, terrified to even blink.
Roman slowly turned around, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. His chest was heaving slightly, his pale gray eyes wild with a lingering, primal rage that scared me down to my very bones.
He looked at me, checking my wrist where Novak had grabbed me. A faint red mark was already forming against my skin.
"Are you alright?" Roman asked, his voice instantly softening as he spoke to me—a jarring, night-and-day transition that left the other mob bosses staring in absolute disbelief.
I swallowed hard, pulling my arm back and rubbing my wrist. "I... I'm fine, Mr. Mercer. Thank you."
Roman turned his cold, piercing gaze back to the terrified men sitting around the table. "Meeting's over. Get out. All of you."
Chairs scraped frantically against the floor as twelve powerful crime lords scrambled for the exit like terrified schoolboys, rushing toward the elevator to escape the wrath of Don Mercer.
Within thirty seconds, the massive penthouse was completely empty, save for the two of us standing in the dim, silent room.
I stood by the edge of the table, my hands trembling as the adrenaline finally began to crash through my system.
Roman walked over slowly, standing right in front of me. He reached out, his warm fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, inspecting the faint red mark left by Novak.
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"I told you no one touches you," Roman said softly, his voice thick with a dark, protective intensity. "I meant it."
I looked up into his pale gray eyes, realizing in that terrifying, breathless moment that the mafia boss who had vowed to protect my family was slowly, irrevocably becoming the center of my entire world.
