#romansionisfanfiction

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fifteen

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

She Knows It by Steven Rodriguez

Roman sat back in a plush chair outside the glass-walled conference room, his dark eyes fixed on the meeting taking place inside. Ever stare at something for too long before your mind just takes it and runs with it? Or you say a word too many times until it loses all meaning? That was how Roman was feeling.

With each passing moment he sat in that chair ‘people watching’ his mind wandered further. The conference room began to look less like a conference room and more like a giant fish tank with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls and bland artwork that was supposed to be thought-provoking but only induced boredom. And let's not forget the generic, mass-produced paintings that were meant to add some color but ended up blending into the beige office walls perfectly. So stimulating.

The ergonomic design of the chairs in the room was reminiscent of strange coral furniture one might find in a fish tank. The potted plants in the corners probably aimed to add some vitality to the sterile environment, which likely saw many long hours and late nights without exposure to any natural stimuli.

Yes, the longer he looked the more it looked like a fish tank. 

The men in their suits became a school of angelfish, drifting aimlessly. The women with their bright colored high fashion frocks like Discus fish effortlessly floating through the water. 

And there, in the center of it all, perched on the table leafing through papers and glancing back at her laptop was Belladonna. Her inky-black hair flowing loosely, cascading down her shoulders like the elegant fins of a betta fish. Dressed in the black jacket, and silver jewelry that Roman had delivered for her that morning made for a striking contrast against that only solidified his odd comparison. Beautiful and elegant. And just like a female beta fish, she seemed to furrow her brow when approached by her male colleagues - he was well acquainted with the difference between her ‘resting bitch face’ and her ‘are you that fucking stupid’ expressions to know that her colegues were not impressing her with theri smart deas. 

Why was he comparing the woman he wanted to fuck to a fish? He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Goddamn it, Cobblepot.” He muttered under his breath, refocusing his attention on the conference room and trying to shake off his annoyance.

Fuck he hated fish.

Roman couldn't understand why people would choose to have fish as pets. 

Fish were about the most ridiculous idea for a pet Roman could think of, but people loved them. Maybe because they were cheap and easy to dispose of when they inevitably died - just a quick flush down the toilet. Some people went for the more exotic options like lionfish, piranhas and even electric eels. But at least those were interesting, lionfish were venomous, electric eels looked scary as fuck and he could certainly see the benefits of having something like piranhas floating nearby. Perfect for getting rid of unwanted guests...or bodies.

Roman didn’t personally like fish. In fact he thought they made horrifically boring bets and he had little interest in pets in the first place. He didn’t even have any as a kid. Though that might have been due to his parents not having any faith in Roman not using them as target practice or something. 

Bit extreme. He didn’t hate animals, he just found them like he found most living things; clingy and annoying. 

He looked back to Belladonna adjusting her glasses and combing a hand through her hair. He liked those glasses on her, he’d have to see if he could convince her to wear a sexy little pencil skirt, then he could live out the sexy librarian thing again, the first time it was for the novelty of it. Not because he particularly liked the woman but hey, a fantasy was a fantasy.

Betafish weren’t boring. 

Hell, females could be so aggressive that they would attack males, nip at them to establish dominance and it could result in injury and even death.

God, he loved a woman who wasn’t afraid to take a bite out of him. It was what he found fascinating about Belladonna, she was afraid of him, no doubt, but she didn’t act like it. Hell, she’d put a gun in his hand and all but dared him to shoot her. Fuck the woman had some balls, her temper flaring like the vibrant fins of a betta.

They were some of the most common fish in aquariums, but commonality didn’t mean less interesting. Hell, diamonds were as common as taxis but that didn’t stop everyone from falling all over themselves saving two months salary for one. Bettas in particular were well liked for their beauty, intelligence and their spunky personalities.

The problem was that most people didn't know how to properly care for them or keep them happy. Instead, they would see these stunning creatures and impulsively buy them, only to place them in tiny fish bowls that were unfit for their needs. Her shabby loft came to mind, a place far below her worth. She'd chosen to keep a low profile, to avoid the limelight that should have been hers. 

Eventually the shimmer in their scales would fade and they’d more than likely be forgotten about. Not Belladonna, she shimmered in a dark room.

Roman blinked, suddenly aware that his mind had been drifting into an almost absurd fantasy about fish. He scowled at the thought, silently cursing Oswald Cobblepot again for filling his head with such useless information. The man had a penchant for talking endlessly about his various collections and interests, and naturally, in his years of knowing Oswald Cobblepot he’d been forced to absorb information about things he didn’t care about whenever they spoke. 

Cobblepot had a thing for penguins and naturally with his collections of oddities at the Cyrus Pinkney Natural History Museum. He also collected seemingly useless information, which he then forced upon Roman in their younger years.

Roman knew far too much about fish for his own personal liking: including tips on how to care for betta fish.

He shook his head, his thoughts went to some strange places when his mind was stagnant like it was currently. 

His fingers tapped impatiently against his leg, the urge to barge into the meeting growing stronger by the second. But he knew she would bear the brunt of those consequences and then he’d be subject to hers. And while Roman was sure he could turn that frustration into something a little more fun with most people, Belladonna wasn’t most people. He sighed, forcing himself to remain seated.

He needed to get a gameboy or something, watching the meeting Belladonna was stuck in wasn’t good for his IQ, he could feel it dropping by the second. And by this point it had to have dropped at least by thirty points, because he’d been waiting for thirty minutes. 

Once he’d focused on their moving lips it had gotten a little bit better, he couldn’t quite read lips but he could make out some words:

"Emergency... Urgent... Expensive… Client… Fired…" Roman whispered under his breath, catching a few words. Roman's eyes flicked to Zsasz, who stood beside him with an air of stoic indifference. "You picking up anything useful?" he asked in a low voice.

“Nope.”

Zsasz shook his head, but Roman wasn’t surprised, he noticed that the man's gaze seemed to be following Belladonna's assistant, Daisy, as she moved around the room. Fair enough, he was Zsasz’s boss, not his goddamned babysitter, it he wanted to eye fuck Daisy; let him. Someone should.

She was too tiny for Romans taste anyway, he liked curves, hips, breasts. Daisy was just too petite for his taste. But judging by the way Zsasz was watching her, it didn’t seem to bother him.

Back to the meeting, it didn’t seem to be wrapping up or getting any better. He knew from the way her brow furrowed and the tenseness in her shoulders that whatever was the topic of discussion wasn’t a very pleasant one. It didn’t look like she was bearing the brunt of anyone's wrath but rather she was trying to untangle a mess. She hadn’t even noticed him there on the chair in the small waiting area and he hadn’t really said or done anything because at first watching her had been somewhat fascinating. Then he made the comparison of the conference room looking like an aquarium and then… Shit. He needed to stop this.

Roman checked his watch again, scowling. Thirty-five minutes now with no sign of the meeting ending. Roman's fingers went back to tapping impatiently on the arm of his chair as he watched Belladonna continue her heated conversation with her boss. 

She threw up her hands, clearly exasperated. His fingers tightened on the armrests of his chair. 

Maybe she finally felt his gaze on her but he seemed to catch Belladonna's attention and she looked at him, he winked at her and she at least smirked at his little flirtatious charm, but she was still clearly strained by the weight of the conversation she was having. 

He knew that look well, it was the look of someone who was surrounded by incompetence or someone who was forced to fix something that wasn’t their problem to begin with. Roman gestured with a nod of his head, urging her to join him outside the conference room. But she only shook her head softly, her expression remaining serious, before turning her attention back to her boss. 

Pulling out his phone, Roman quickly typed a message. 

'Problem, angel?' 

As he hit send, his eyes flicked to Daisy, who often had Belladonna’s cell in her possession, glanced at the notification. She offered Roman a little wave hand, held up a finger then showed the text to Belladonna, and after a brief pause, Belladonna texted back, as her eyes darted back and forth from the phone to whomever was talking 

'Can't talk.'

"Damn it," Roman muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. 

Well, he couldn’t necessarily be angry, it wasn’t like she was ignoring him. But he still wasn’t wild about being sidelined. He wanted her undivided attention, not this nonsense with clients and deadlines. Frustrated but simply too stubborn to quit, he decided to try another approach and texted Daisy instead. 

‘Everything alright, Daisy? Your latte is getting warm.’

She was sitting at the conference table looking up from a laptop then looking at her phone, her eyes met his as she read the message, and she offered Roman and Zsasz an appreciative smile. They could see the tension in her shoulders begin to ease, if only slightly.

She seemed in a far better mood than Belladonna and offered a smile and twirled her finger around her temple to convey the insanity of what was currently happening. Roman chuckled.

‘Everything alright Daisy?’

She looked like she was struggling to put her thoughts into words and after a minute she got up, whispered something to Belladonna, who looked back and forth between Daisy, Roman, and her boss before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"Finally," Roman murmured, as Daisy excused herself from the conference room. 

The moment the door swung open, a cacophony of raised voices spilled out into the waiting room, as predicted, it wasn’t good.

Daisy emerged looking utterly relieved to be free from the chaos within. As she approached Roman, he got to his feet and held out her iced green tea latte, from the way she was looking at the cold drink one might be tempted to think that Roman was holding out a winning lotto ticket. She gratefully accepted the drink and a quick sip seemed to energize her a bit.

​​"Thank you," Daisy said gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cold cup and taking a long sip. Her expression softened, and she let out a frazzled breath, trying to shake off the tension that clung to her like a second skin.

Zsasz watched the exchange with an amused glint in his eyes, leaning casually against the wall. He gave Daisy a playful wink, which elicited a small smile from her before Roman's deep voice cut through the lingering tension.

“Daisy, Daisy… What’s got my girls so worked up?” She smiled at Romans' endearing ‘his girls’ note. “Bad day?”

She shook her head, “It’s one for the books, that’s for sure.” She took another sip, “Falls into the category of ‘its not our fault but it is our problem’ kind of thing.”

"What's going on?" Roman asked, charming concern coloring his voice.

"It's been absolute chaos since this morning," She began, sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Long story short, we had a huge post-fashion week photo shoot scheduled with the Gotham Literary Society, but there was some sort of paperwork snafu with the permits. Now we're out of a location and scrambling to find one to accommodate the client."

“Yes, I read about that, the site’s just been restored after a two year long renovation.” Roman added casually. Daisy nodded and emphatically gestured with her hand in confirmation as she took another sip of her coffee.

“Exactly! We need to find another location by tomorrow or we might lose the client, Lauren is pissed and well, everyone is scrambling to figure something out." She explained, frustration creasing her brow. "Her bosses are breathing down her neck, which means she’s breathing down our necks. There's talk that if we lose this client, several people might lose their jobs. It’s literally no one’s fault but someone’s gotta pay, right?" She glanced back at the conference room, worry etched in her features. "We're trying to find a place for the shoot, but it's practically impossible because most popular locations are booked already and have been for months. It's the week after fashion week, after all."

“Big client?” 

“Huge,” She looked around and lowered her voice, “Adrian Blackwood.” Romans face lit up in recognition. “He just debuted his entire collection and lets just say he had other offers for people to work with, we need to figure this thing out but we’re running out of time. He’s expecting the details to be confirmed by the end of the day which is officially in,” She paused and looked at her watch, “Six hours. Any place worth booking is booked out and any place available isn’t worth the trouble.”

"Are you or Belladonna's jobs at risk?" Roman's concern for their well-being was palpable, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg as he awaited Daisy's response.

She hesitated, biting her lip. "I'm not sure. Belladonna might be okay, but I can't say the same for myself. Assistants get fired all the time, we’re a dime a dozen but I’m pretty sure Belladonna would march out with me while giving them all the stiffest middle finger ever.”

Roman scoffed, of that, he had no doubts. Despite Belladonna’s claims of not having any friends, she was loyal, he’d only recently seen just how loyal.

"We can't have that," He said, shaking his head. He looked back at the chaotic conference room, his gaze finding Belladonna's once more. Roman furrowed his brow in thought before an idea struck him. "Daisy, I think I can help," He declared. "Tell her to come speak with me."

Daisy seemed uncertain, glancing between Roman and the ongoing chaos inside the meeting room. She took a deep breath, seemingly weighing the potential consequences, briefly opening her mouth to try and argue but Roman insisted and his tone of confidence seemed to convince Daisy it was worth the interruption. Finally, she shrugged, an air of ‘fuck it’ in her demeanor. 

"What's the worst that could happen?" With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the lion's den to relay Roman's message to Belladonna.

Again when the doors opened the tense tone of their words floated out, she whispered to Belladonna who looked between Roman and Daisy, confusion evident on her face. He was pretty sure she was telling Daisy she wasn’t going anywhere but Daisy appeared insistent. And she must have convinced her because Belladonna let out a sigh, rolled her shoulders and reluctantly approached her boss. 

They talked for a minute and her boss didn’t look very happy, clearly unimpressed by Roman's presence, waved her hand dismissively. But after a minute and some vague gesturing with her hands she conceded and Belladonna strode out of the conference room, back rigid and heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. Roman watched her approach, noting the tension in her shoulders and the tight set of her jaw. She wasn’t happy by any means, though she was doing her best to conceal it but the irritation was simply radiating off her.

"Ok, Daisy said you needed to talk to me. Make it quick, Roman, I’m kind of in the middle of something." She snapped, her patience wearing thin.

“I can see that,” He wore something of a smug smile and after a silence long enough to start to get on her nerves, he spoke again before she could bite back with something smart. "Daisy was just telling me about your little predicament. It seems you're in need of a new location for your photoshoot, and quickly.”

"Yes," she replied tersely, impatience and exasperation seeping through her words. "But can we please get to the point? My boss is already in a pissy mood and I’m pretty sure I’m next on the chopping block if I don’t get my ass back in there."

"Question?" He said, clearly not bothered by her eagerness to wrap up their conversation.

"Fine, what's your question?" His leisurely questioning was starting to grate on her nerves, and she couldn't help but glance back to her boss, who seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on their conversation.

"Am I a joke to you?" Roman tilted his head looking both disappointed and confused. Sort of reminded her of a puppy with its ears half up and half down trying to suss out a high-pitched sound.

Belladonna stared at him, confused. "What?”

"Use my club," 

Belladonna stared at Roman, her dark eyes wide in surprise. "Use your club?" Momentarily thrown off balance by his unexpected offer.

"Yes," he said, his voice low and smooth. "It's mine to do with as I see fit, it’s empty during the day, and should have more than enough space to accommodate your shoot. You can use the space however you need.” Roman smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “and you can vouch for its legitimacy since it's up-to-date with all the necessary permits and licenses."

"Would that help?" he asked, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice.

"Yes, it would," Belladonna admittedly a bit lost for words

She hesitated, shifting on her feet. The offer would solve all her problems for the shoot and might even put her in a better spot for work. She’d obviously need to run it by her boss.

As if reading her mind, Roman gestured towards the conference room.

"Go. Run it by your boss." Roman said with a playful flick of his wrist, shooing her away as if she were a mischievous cat lingering too long by the cream. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement at her hesitation, a side of him few got to witness. "Do you need a slap on that gorgeous ass to get you moving?"

Her eyes flashed with something sharp, but she bit back a retort and turned on her heel, striding back toward the conference room before Roman could follow through with what she hoped was only a joke. As she spoke to her boss, he could see the shock register on her boss’s face. She glanced at Roman, then back to Belladonna then back to Roman, who allowed himself a triumphant smile, knowing he was about to be the hero.

Belladonna motioned for Roman to join them, trying not to let her surprise – or her gratitude – show too openly. As he stepped through the door, the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. All eyes were on him, but this time, he was not the source of any problems. In fact, he was the solution – a role that felt surprisingly gratifying. With his charming smile and easy manner, he greeted Belladonna's boss.

“Ms. Preston, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His smooth tone eased the tension in the room as effectively as a tranquilizer. 

"Mr. Sionis, this is a pleasant surprise," Laura said, her demeanor considerably improved as she reached out to shake Romans’ outstretched hand. 

“Oh, please, Roman is fine.” 

"Belladonna here, tells me you're interested in leasing out your club for our shoot." She crossed her arms over her chest, head tilted as though she wasn’t sure she bought it. 

Surely there had to be more to it, right? 

“Leasing? Oh, not at all. Can’t have a face this gorgeous wearing anything other than a smile.” Roman's gaze drifted to Belladonna before turning back to Laura. "I'm more than willing to assist, by providing my space free of charge," He responded smoothly. "It won't be a problem."

Laura was one of the most assertive people Belladonna knew, never one to be told what to do, never one to let a man swoop in and save the day… Yet, here they were… Either the situation was worse than Belladonna had initially thought and Laura couldn’t afford to lose this client, or her boss too, was drawn in by Romans’ charm, she wouldn’t be the first or the last. Hell, it happened to Belladonna more times than she could count.

Laura eyed Roman skeptically, her expression guarded "So let me get this straight, Mr. Sionis. You're offering us the use of your club; one of the most exclusive night spots in Gotham for our shoot, free of charge?"

Roman nodded, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips. "That's correct, Laura. Consider it my contribution to the arts."

Laura shook her head incredulously. "Well, I'm afraid I can't accept your offer without some form of compensation. Your club is a prime location, and we can't just take advantage of it for free." Laura stood clicking her pen several times as she contemplated her next move. "But, you know, Roman," She began, "I think we could generate some fantastic publicity for your club through the shoot. If you’re unwilling to accept monetary compensation, maybe some good publicity in the fashion industry might suffice."

"Oh? How so?" 

A smirk played on his lips as if he didn’t understand what Laura was proposing, he knew damn well. But he was at least smart enough to know that he had to let her feel like she had a say in this whole thing.

"Well, I have it on good authority that the designer behind the collection is a huge fan of your club. Since your club would be the backdrop it seems wholly inappropriate if we don’t see the man of the hour. And I happen to know for a fact that the designer has a fantastic piece that only a man like yourself could do justice to.” Roman's ego swelled at the thought of being part of a fashion shoot. “It would be great exposure for both the club and the collection."

"I like the sound of that," he replied, nodding thoughtfully. "But one condition."

Laura raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what's that?"

"Belladonna does the shoot," Roman declared, his gaze drifting to where Belladonna stood, sorting through fabric samples. "She's got the skill, the eye. She'll be perfect."

Belladonna's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden turn of events. She opened her mouth to object, but before she could speak, Laura cut in.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Laura said, flashing a quick smile at Belladonna. "It would add a personal touch to the campaign. We all know Belladonna has quite the eye for male beauty,"

Belladonna hesitated for a moment, then nodded, reluctantly agreeing. She knew she didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Great," Roman said, extending his hand. "It's settled then."

"On behalf of the entire team, thank you, Roman. And I look forward to the proofs,” She turned to Belladonna, “Don’t let me down, Belladonna. This goes well and I think you’ll have earned that bonus we talked about.”

“You got it, Laura,” She replied coolly.

“Alright, then let’s go make the client happy, I'll let him know about the change of venue, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Roman offered her a card from his jacket pocket.

Roman extended his hand, sealing the agreement with a firm handshake. "My pleasure, Laura. I hope you’ll find time to stop by, and if your client has any questions, don't hesitate to give them my card. I'm always happy to accommodate."

As the bubble of stress burst open like a fragile balloon, the aquarium fish seemed to have taken a cue swimming away. Daisy wrapped Roman in a hug that could rival the strength of an ant and crowned him a lifesaver, before following the other fish out of the conference room. Belladonna collapsed onto the table, hands rubbing her temples in relief… or maybe just exhaustion at the fact that it was only noon. Roman playfully nudged her with his foot, 

“Look at me on my white horse, saving the day!” He mused so proudly, “Seems it got you a bit of cred with your boss, didn’t it? And what was that, something about a bonus too?”

“And now I have an entire shoot to direct.” She replied with a tired smirk and a nod. “And yeah, she’s been dangling that bonus since the beginning of the year.”

He shrugged, prowling closer, caging her in with his arms as he braced them on the table behind her. The scent of his cologne enveloped her, dark and sensual. 

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.” He paused, “You’re welcome by the way.”

She tilted her head at his playful remark, giving his belt a tug, pulling him into a kiss. Her lips brushed his several times, by now they were both used to the stares and quick little instances of phones being pulled out during his lunchtime visits. 

“Thank you.”

“You know angel, I have to say, I think these conference room meetings are starting to grow on me, I’m finding them very stimulating…”

“Keep it in your pants, Sionis, mama’s working.” His eyebrows shot up at that one, and his chest inhaled a deep controlling breath.

“Easy kitten, don’t forget who holds the cards here.”

“Let's see them.” Her mood had considerably improved but Roman found that was usually the case after he kissed her, “Full house beats a flush.”

Roman shook his head, a half-smile playing on his lips as he held out her coffee. Today, it was different - her usual rose-infused mocha, but iced. The cool container melted against her skin as she took it from him, the condensation leaving small droplets on her fingertips. 

"The girl at the shop insisted you try it iced with the warming weather," Roman explained, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"And you actually took her suggestion? Shocking," She replied, taking a whiff of the sweet aroma before taking a tentative sip. 

"Jokes on her, if you don't like it I'm burning that little cafe to the ground..." Despite his playful threat, she could tell Roman was only half serious. But the drink was surprisingly delicious, and she couldn't help but wear a pleasantly surprised expression as she took another sip. 

“Good?” He asked with a smug look, she held the drink out to him but he shook his head, so she took another sip and leaned forward to give him a kiss, slipping her tongue past his lips for a rose-infused mocha-flavored kiss. He seemed a little more interested in tasting the coffee now.

"And so the little coffee shop that could, lives another day... Have you eaten?" His concern might have been slightly pandering but it was still kind of cute.

Roman looked hard at her searching for any signs of deceit, Belladonna seemed very unamused at now having two people inquiring as to her dietary needs. “Been too busy.”

Roman reached into the small brown bag that had gone unnoticed until now, revealing a box of french macarons that were almost too beautiful to devour. After careful consideration, he chose a bright pink one adorned with delicate swirls and a sprinkle of glitter. The aroma of rich chocolate mousse wafted through the air as he playfully commanded:

"Open up." 

Belladonna licked her lips in anticipation before parting them to accept the treat. She nipped at his fingers, savoring the velvety texture of the macaron and the warmth of his skin against her lips. As she chewed, Roman chuckled and shook his head.

 "What am I going to do with you, kitten? Tie you down and force you to eat?" Belladonna shrugged nonchalantly, enjoying the banter between them as well as how Romans eyes did that thing again; where they flared up and there was a little surge of something dark trying to get out.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to drag him into the nearest closet.

Professionalism be damned.

“Kitten, don’t test daddy’s patience…” He warned her with a growl, his voice low and dangerous.

Belladonna wasn’t quite sure what came over her but she couldn’t stop the words that slipped past her lips. 

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

He jerked her forward into a hard kiss, and she was pretty sure she could feel that last little strand of his self-control pulled taut ready to snap as his tongue delved into her mouth and his hands slipped over her ass, lifting her onto the table. Standing between her legs, he pressed himself against her, feeling the heat of their bodies meld together. A guttural groan escaped his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tickling the nape of his neck.

Oh, this naughty little kitten of his…

“You like to tease me, don’t you, Kitten?” His voice was gravelly and strained in between kisses, panting heavily before finally breaking away just long enough to speak a few words.

“I’m about five seconds from dragging you into an empty office and bending that sweet ass over a desk, Belladonna, and I don’t care who hears." He kissed her again, harder this time, “You wanna play like that? Call me daddy?” He grinned a wolfish lear against her lips, “I’ll make you fucking scream it.”

A knock at the glass window pulled them both from the edge of the abyss they were standing on, looking over to the windows, Zsasz stood with his back to them, he had knocked on the glass, and several people in passing were hurrying away. No doubt they must have snapped a few pictures that would be splashed over the tabloids and gossip rags tomorrow, hell, maybe even today, it was still early.

“Kitten,” His deep voice rumbled through the air, causing her heart to skip a beat. He paused and straightened his perfectly-tailored jacket, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room before landing on her. 

“One of these days I’m not gonna care how many people are around, and if you get fired, I’ll just get you another job somewhere else.”

“My office is down the hall.” She tried to maintain a professional demeanor but felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze.

“Temping as that is, Angel,” He used her nickname with a hint of amusement in his voice, “I did come for more than just your afternoon coffee and to check to make sure you’ve eaten.”

“Has something happened with the cops?” Her curiosity was piqued by his serious tone.

“No,” His expression turned grave, “Does the name Maria Lopez mean anything to you?”

She furrowed her brow, trying to recall any information about the name. After a minute of concentration, she shook her head. 

“No,” she answered honestly.

“No one? Not a teacher, a maid, a friend, nobody?”

“No, I didn’t get along with most of my teachers. Our maids were mostly Italian or Greek, and after what happened with Olivia, I didn’t have many friends. Plus, my father wouldn’t allow anyone with even a hint of Hispanic heritage near me,” 

Roman looked confused by this revelation. 

“His best friend was Spanish,” she continued, “They had some kind of falling out between their families a long time ago. My father saw anyone with Hispanic blood as someone not to be trusted.” Roman nodded in understanding; he knew the type of person her father was. “Why do you ask?”

Roman hesitated before offering up what he knew, “If I tell you this, you do nothing. Do you understand me?” 

His voice took on that hard quality again, the one that readied her fight or flight instinct, he was serious. She nodded slowly, but he looked expectantly.

"Okay, I promise. What's going on? Who is Maria Lopez?" She asked.

He lowered his voice, “I think that’s the alias your mother has been using.”

Her jaw dropped. “You found her?”

He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm still verifying some things, but I needed to know if that name meant anything to you."

"If it's an alias my father chose for her, I never would've known to look for it." Understanding dawned on Roman's face as he nodded. "Where is she?" She demanded, feeling a surge of hope mixed with fear.

"I can't say for sure," He admitted.

“I don’t believe you.” His eyes sharpened. "You wouldn't ask me something like this if you didn't have reason to believe she was out there."

He was amused by her straight talk and she was right, fact was he had a lot more than he let on. 

“Maybe I do have something. But,” She visibly deflated, “Nothing happens until I can verify what I’m looking at.” He seized her chin, “You do nothing. You don’t even so much as Google that name, do you hear me, Belladonna Black?”

She hadn’t been called by her full name in years and the way Roman said it… Well, it had her wondering if she could change his mind about the whole office rendezvous.

“You’re really gonna find her?” He was trying to be serious and maybe a bit intimidating but she didn’t see it, she saw him assembling pieces to a puzzle she hadn’t even been able to find pieces to in four years. 

“I said I would. Anyone jumping the gun could result in more blood spilled. Do you remember what we talked about the other night after Stan left?” She nodded and gave a feint, ‘Yeah’ It was easy in the span of an evening with Thai takeout and sleeping in the safety of his cozy bed to forget just how real the game they were playing was. 

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” She took hold of his hand that gripped her chin and kissed it. 

“Alright. You’re going to finish out your day and I’m picking you up at eight, not a moment later. Any other work you have to do will have to be done remotely, understand me?” 

“You kidding, I’m a hero by association today, it won’t be hard to leave by eight.”

“Be ready.” She nodded, “Now, I need to be going, Angel. I have some errands to run and before you ask; don’t.”

Roman pulled her in for one more kiss, his hands settling on her hips, maybe a little lower than might have been appropriate for a goodbye kiss but she didn’t seem to mind. It was slow and leisurely, a gentle exploration of her mouth and she could feel the warmth of his wet tongue teasing the seam of her lips. With a satisfied 'Mmm' and a heavy restrained sigh, Roman pulled back, leaving her wanting more. But before she could protest, in Roman fashion he kissed the palm of her hand, his lips lingering for a moment before he left the box of macarons on the conference table, a gesture of sweetness in contrast to his confident and seductive demeanor.

“Eat up kitten, but not too much. We’re going out tonight.”

The hands of the clock on the wall had inched closer to six pm, casting long shadows across the nearly deserted office. Belladonna, now left to her own devices after sending Daisy home with Lloyd, focused intently on her task at hand: finalizing preparations for tomorrow's shoot. The responsibility of running it all loomed over her, a weight she now bore thanks to Roman's influence.

Belladonna adjusted her glasses and diligently worked through the shot list, making necessary adjustments and confirming equipment availability. She double-checked every detail, ensuring that everything would be in working order for the big day. Somehow knowing Roman would be there not only watching but participating made her a bit anxious.

Her gaze momentarily drifted to the corner of her desk where the mostly empty box of macarons caught her eye. A small smile played on her lips as she recalled Roman's 'doting boyfriend' act earlier that day. She reached for the box, taking out the last one; a chocolate and pistachio macaron, and lifted it to her nose, inhaling its sweet aroma.

She’d never say it outloud but the Roman made one hell of a fake boyfriend when he tried, almost fooled her, before taking a satisfying bite.

As she chewed, her mind wandered back to Roman—his enigmatic presence and the powerful connections he held. She was putting a lot of trust in him, the feminist in her didn’t like how dependant on him she was and she felt a pang of unease. But at this point Roman had had multipl opportunities to either cut her loose or let her die and each time he did neither. 

The clock continued to tick away, marking the passage of time as she worked tirelessly to ensure tomorrow's shoot would go off without a hitch. And all the while, Roman Sionis' presence continued to linger in the back of her mind.

She redirected her attention to the list of garments for tomorrow's shoot, pulling out the photo of the piece Roman would be modeling, an intricately detailed, dark and alluring outfit that seemed to perfectly match his enigmatic persona.

"Damn, he is going to look incredible in this," Belladonna whispered under her breath, feeling a sudden surge of excitement at the prospect of capturing him on camera. 

The past week had been a whirlwind, and despite the chaos and danger, but oddly enough she felt perfectly safe. And the notion of Roman being close by while she worked, working in his club was oddly comforting.

She still knew practically nothing about him, and their entire relationship seemed to be built on a foundation of dependency and manipulation. 

Slumping into her chair she stared at the open search engine on her laptop thinking back to the last time she Googled him and how she didn't find much. At the time it had been disheartening but now she had more information on him, especially after her conversation with Cobblepot. She has a better idea of what to look for. She decided to try again, beginning her search at Gotham Preparatory School for Boys. 

As she browsed through the website, with some quick math she found the graduating classes section and quickly calculated which year Roman would have graduated. Once she located his year, her eyes were immediately drawn to his graduation picture – stone-faced, serious, and undeniably gorgeous. 

She studied the class photo, she noticed the space that people seemed to give Roman, as though he was a shark among a school of fish. It only confirmed Cobblepot's description of him – magnetic yet unnerving. People were afraid of him even at only eighteen. 

"Roman Sionis, man of mystery…”

Roman wasn’t Valedictorian and hadn't received any special awards or honors. However, his grades must have been decent enough for him to participate in extracurricular activities, and he was a busy boy. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read the list – debate team, high-ranking chess competitor, social clubs, polo, squash, fencing, boxing, equestrianism, and swimming. 

None of those sounded like Roman but given the prestigious nature of the school, she suspected his parents likely had something to do with Roman’s busy schedule; something she could relate to. The thing that surprised her the most was the chess thing, she didn’t see Roman as having the patience for that sort of thing but by all accounts, he was very good.

"Of course, they'd want their son involved in everything," she mused, thinking of how similar Roman's upbringing seemed to her own.

Though she knew she should focus on the upcoming photo shoot, the enigma of Roman Sionis proved too enticing to resist. 

She clicked further into the archives next, finding a treasure trove of photos featuring Roman in his school uniform. The crisp white shirt and sharp black blazer and his immaculately styled hair seemed to be precursors to his current love for suits. Even as a teenager, he exuded an air of confidence and danger that was undeniably attractive. His stern expression, reminiscent of a young James Dean or Clint Eastwood, gave him a "resting bastard face" that somehow only served to heighten his appeal.

"Damn," she whispered to herself, unable to look away from the smoldering intensity in his eyes. Many of his photos possessed the quality to them that his eyes seemed to follow you wherever you went.

There was an alumni section dedicated to post-high school achievements like colleges, civic honors, and prominent family legacies where Roman was mentioned as a successful club owner, nothing more. There was no mention of any continuing connection with the school, but it did lead her to a page dedicated to significant contributors – including Roman's father, Richard Sionis.

Richard's gray hair betrayed his age, though there was still a strong resemblance between him and his son. Unlike Roman, Richard wore a smile in his pictures – but it appeared rehearsed and artificial, reminding Belladonna of the way her own father would grin for the cameras. It was clear that Roman had inherited his father's good looks, but there was something more genuine in his features, less tired and fake than the elder Sionis.

Belladonna continued to read about Richard's long-standing support of the school, noting his service on the board of trustees and involvement in numerous fundraisers. It seemed that the Sionis family had a history of influence and power, making her wonder what role Roman's upbringing played in shaping the man he had become.

Who was Roman Sionis before he became Roman Sionis?

She stared at the screen, not ready to pack it in just yet.

She didn’t know if he went to college or where to look and she really had no idea what happened to him after he graduated, only that at some point his family had severed all ties with him and Roman had begun a criminal life. He had mentioned he’d done time in Blackgate, but she wasn’t sure of the reason. The criminal stuff didn’t bother her at this point, she mostly wanted to know about his family drama. Because personal family drama was irritating, someone else’s family drama was entertainment.

"Alright then," She muttered under her breath, typing in the keywords ‘Roman Sionis’ and ‘Blackgate’ then hitting enter.

Over a dozen arrest records appeared on the screen, and Belladonna felt her heart tighten in her chest. Most of the records showed Roman posting bail up until he was twenty-one, but then the pattern changed. The bail postings stopped, and he started doing more time in jail. She suspected this may have been when his parents severed ties with him, but she couldn't find anything concrete to prove it. 

Not surprising, a family like his was likely to have as many skeletons in their closets as hers did and like hers; they stayed locked up tight away from prying eyes.

She clicked on the last arrest record, dating back to when Roman was twenty-three. Her stomach churned as the mugshot revealed several injuries to his face – a black and slightly swelling eye, bloodied cheeks, and a split lip. He looked like he had been beaten very badly, yet his smug expression remained intact, as if daring the world to knock him down further.

"God, Roman..." 

Despite his injuries, there was something about his defiant gaze that made her feel a flicker of admiration. It was clear that Roman refused to be broken, even when the odds were against him. She could practically hear him boasting ‘You should see the other guy.’

Aggravated assault, property damage, trespassing, criminal menacing, assault with a deadly weapon, possession of illegal weapons, resisting arrest, and battery – it was an extensive rap sheet that painted a portrait of a man prone to violence and chaos. 

"Roman, you really don't make things easy, do you?" Belladonna muttered under her breath, feeling a strange mix of concern and fascination. 

As she researched further into the dates of his arrests, Belladonna stumbled upon the court case where Roman was tried for these numerous charges. Limited to a mid-tier lawyer, she expected him to suffer the consequences of his actions, yet one by one, he managed to beat most of the charges. It seemed as though evidence had conveniently disappeared or witnesses had mysteriously chosen not to step forward.

"Interesting," She mused, intrigued by the power Roman appeared to wield even in his darkest moments. "How did you manage all of this?"

Her search eventually led her to the final charge that stuck: tax evasion. The out-of-place accusation left her puzzled, as it seemed far removed from the violent nature of the other crimes.

"Tax evasion? That's what they got you on, Roman?" Belladonna shook her head, disbelief etched across her face. Frustration gnawed at her as she tried to find more information on the bizarre charge but came up empty-handed. “Well, the permits make a little more sense now…”

The courtroom photos were grainy, like a lower quality paparazzi shot. His expression was one of pure disgust and irritation as he stood before the judge, his dark eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. The gavel came down, sealing his fate: three years in Blackgate Penitentiary.

She couldn't find anything on Roman's prison stint without hiring a private investigator or formally requesting court documents and that required the Freedom of Information Act which was time consuming and could be expensive and it wasn’t exactly subtle. And for some reason, she didn't want Roman to know she was digging into his past.

Her eyes narrowed as she typed in a new search query – this time focusing on Roman's initial arrest that had landed him in Blackgate Penitentiary. As she skimmed the articles, she discovered it was tied to an assault case against a local criminal named Tony Zucco.

"Tony Zucco?" 

A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. She knew the name sounded familiar but couldn't quite place it. Frustrated, she opened a new tab and quickly Googled the man.

As the search results loaded, Belladonna found herself staring at a squeaky clean image of Tony Zucco – a self-made man from Old Gotham with a very old school mafia gangster look to him. He looked like the type of man her father surrounded himself with. 

The more she searched, the less information she seemed to find about the altercation between Roman and Tony. It was as if their conflict had been purposefully scrubbed from the internet. However, one detail remained consistent throughout the scarce information available – Roman had lost the fight, but not without causing some serious damage.

"Damn," Belladonna breathed out.

What did Tony Zucco do to earn Roman’s wrath? What could have possibly ignited such a violent confrontation between the two? Her instincts told her it wasn’t exactly a fight over a seat at the bar.

The case was open and shut. As far as she could tell, he’d done his three years and he was released on the date, not a day more or less. There were a few pictures from paparazzi’s of Roman after his release and he looked harder, features darker and sharper, grittier. But she couldn’t imagine that three years of prison was easy on a man like Roman who had known luxury his whole life.

Gotham was almost pretty at sunset, if you didn’t think about all the scum that came out at night, the fading sunlight doused the area in hues of orange and gold. Roman lounged against the hood of his sleek black Maserati, scrolling through his tablet. A smirk played on his lips as if he were watching a thrilling episode of his favorite show, waiting to see what would unfold next. 

Zsasz, Roman's loyal assistant, stood beside him, taking a drag from a cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. For once not wearing his jacket in a departure of his professional look, he wore a shoulder holster but it didn’t hold a gun. No, where a small firearm usually sat tucked against a mans side instead was the scabbard of a very large knife. Scars on his arms on full display since no one was around to be scared by them, besides when it came to nightfall in Gotham, the scarier you looked, the less likely people were to fuck with you and there weren’t many men who looked scarier than Zsasz. 

"Tell me she's asking better questions this time," Zsasz asked in a monotone voice with a hint of reservation. 

“She started with my old prep school this time." Roman said, his eyes never leaving the tablet. "Nobody ever thinks keyloggers are useful until they are," 

“I prefer a more hands on approach.”

Roman chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You think she’ll find my list of extracurriculars impressive?"

“Hell no. Squash is dumb, and polo is for spoiled rich pussies," Zsasz countered, blowing out another puff of smoke. Zsasz scoffed. 

A bark of laughter escaped Roman. "You do remember I played Polo, right?." Zsasz shot him a sideways glance, the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “

Zsasz's lips quirked. "Wasn't calling you a pussy." 

"Damn right I’m not." 

Roman's attention returned to the tablet, watching in real time as Belladonna uncovered more and more of his sordid past. Part of him relished the thought of her reaction. The rest rankled at her audacity to dig into his business but he had done just that too her so he couldn’t blame her much. Still, pretty stupid to think she could dig into him and he not know. He knew about her previous day of Googling after his little adventure at the docks with Cobblepots men and he’s watched as she searched up his old school.

He had to give it to her, she’d gone right back to work after he’d left and he was pleased to see that she didn’t Google the name Maria Lopez, just as she’s promised not to. Nope. But she did take a second shot at Googling him. Her first attempt at digging into Romans past hadn’t yielded much, turns out when you write in the name ‘Roman Sionis’ into Google it’s mostly just papparazzi pictures and a few articles on his club. Roman had paid good money to make sure those articles on his arrest and his younger years were at least seven pages back in the search results. You couldn’t erase a criminal past but you could make it harder to find. 

He admired Belladonna's tenacity. She was resourceful, stubborn, and unafraid to dig into his past. Those traits only served to make her more attractive to him.

"Let's see what else she has up her sleeve," Roman murmured, his finger swiping across the tablet screen. 

A wicked grin spreading across his face as he noticed Belladonna had uncovered his criminal record. 

"Ah, there it is. She's finally found my rap sheet," He said, his voice low and amused.

"Should've been her first step," Zsasz commented, looking over Roman's shoulder at the screen. 

"Oh come on now, give the kid a break. She's new at this."

"True," Zsasz chuckled, leaning back against the car hood. "I’ll give her this, she’s has handled everything so far like an old-school mafia woman. Haven’t seen tears from her once."

“Thank God for that, I can’t stand seeing women cry.” Roman agreed, his admiration for Belladonna growing with each passing moment "Indeed, she's been a champ,"

Flicking through the rest of the information she'd gathered, he spotted something that caught his attention. 

"Look here, she's found Tony Zucco's name."

"Tony Zucco?" Zsasz mused, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "She won't find much. He's been out of the game since you shut him down.”

"Ah, yes. Good ol' Tony," Roman sighed nostalgically, a distant look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Not the least of which was the scar on his shoulder,courtsey of Zsasz's loyalty. Roman met his gaze. 

"Good shot, by the way. The ladies seem to like the scars." 

Zsasz's lips quirked again. "Following orders.” Zsasz reminded him with a sly grin as he flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “What else has she dug up?" 

Roman scrolled through the contents of the laptop. "She found the shooting at the club." His mouth twisted. "Hard to believe that lazy bastard was in business for so long, Tony never seemed to understand the value of paying your people what they’re worth..."

Zsasz chimed in. "You had a better employee retention program." 

"I did at that." Roman said smugly. They both chuckled, enjoying the memory that many would probably find deeply suspicious or deeply unsettling.

"Yeah, poor Tony never saw it coming. Shame you didn't kill him," Zsasz said casually. "Could've gotten the club for cheap if there had been a death on the property." 

"True," Roman mused, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought. “A little restraint goes a long way Zsasz…”

His laugh died and Roman's eyes narrowed to slits as he zoomed in on an article that Belladonna was currently browsing. It was a piece the Gotham Times had published shortly after the shooting—one he'd somehow overlooked until now. The street lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows across his face as he scrutinized the text.

"Zsasz," Roman said, his voice low and dangerous. "Take a look at this and tell me what you see."

Zsasz took the tablet from Roman, his pale eyes scanning the screen with a growing sense of unease. He glanced back at Roman, his voice tense with anticipation. "Two very irritating names.”

"This makes it two times now," Roman muttered, a note of irritation lacing his voice.

"Two?"

"First, we miss Belladonna's hypoglycemia diagnosis," Roman said, tossing the tablet aside where it landed with a soft thud on the leather couch. “Now this.”

"Ah," Zsasz nodded slowly, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. "A determined woman does better research than the FBI. Maybe you should take Belladonna out for a nice dinner, thank her properly for her detective skills."

Roman's expression softened at the mention of dinner. The thought of her resourcefulness brought a rare sense of warmth to his chest. 

"Dinner?" he echoed, considering the idea. His hand instinctively reached up to adjust the cuff of his immaculately tailored suit.

Roman considered it. 

"Taking a half-Italian woman to an Italian restaurant... is that too cliché?" Roman inquired, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a semblance of amusement.

"Boss," Zsasz replied with a deadpan delivery, "clichés are clichés for a reason. But if you want something different, I know a place. Turkish."

"That little hole in the wall joint in the Bowery?" Roman's tone shifted with intrigue.

Zsasz gave a single nod. "That's the one."

"Karnıyarık," Roman mused aloud, a hint of hunger creeping into his voice as he remembered the savor of well-spiced eggplant and minced meat. "That does sound good."

"And don't get me started on the büyükanne's baklava." Zsasz's eyes gleamed with a rare spark of enthusiasm. "Better than any of those fancy restaurants, hands down."

Dinner was a good next step but there was a new loose end to tie up. Roman's amusement faded as he glared at the article again, picking out the names that had drawn his ire—Ramirez and Craven. The detectives first on scene after he'd been shot. 

Roman sneered at the article, muttering under his breath, "So that's why you've got it out for me..." 

His mind raced with thoughts of revenge and calculated moves, feeling the weight of their names pressing down on him. 

"This changes things," Roman said, the gears turning in his head. He looked at Zsasz with a new sense of urgency. 

"What do you want to do about it?" Zsasz asked calmly. 

"Call up the lawyers and our inside man. I want everything on Ramirez and Craven by Monday." 

"Got it, boss," Zsasz replied, nodding in agreement. His fingers were already reaching for his phone, ready to make contact and set things into motion. “You wanna wait on Metropolis? Left that doctor in pretty rough shape, he might talk, might not.”

“No, I think we’ve properly motivated the good doctor to keep his mouth shut. But let’s not take any chances, keep our travel plans as scheduled. And look into that other thing, I want that sorted by the time we leave, make sure she has everything she needs.”

"Now what?" he asked, curious about Roman's next move.

Roman's mind buzzed with plans and contingencies, the dark machinery of his intellect churning relentlessly. Craven and Ramirez had been the proverbial annoying thorn in his side since this whole damn thing started. He’d have figured out exactly what their beef with him was sooner or later but thanks to his little detective, it was sooner and he’d have to make sure he thanked her properly, wouldn’t he?

But he’d also have to tell her he’d been spying on her at work as well as her home, which really shouldn’t surprise her at this point. Well, she’d get over it.

The neon glow of the city reflected in Roman's dark eyes as he glanced at his watch, the ticking seconds a reminder that time was always moving. 

"Time to go pick up my angel from work." 

He pocketed the tablet and slid off the hood of the Maserati with predatory grace. Zsasz looked up from his phone call, nodding in understanding. Neither spoke of the growing reality, which was that Belladonna was quickly becoming a more central influence in Romans life, which made her dangerous.

Her beauty and courage had captivated him from their first meeting, and he found himself craving her presence more and more each day. 

"Boss, everything's set," Zsasz said, interrupting Roman's thoughts as he hung up the phone. "Our guys will get us what we need."

"Good," Roman replied, his voice low and intense. "We'll find out exactly what those bastards are playing at, and put an end to it. But for now… let's focus on something far more pleasant." He smirked, enjoying the idea of spending time with Belladonna, even if only for a brief reprieve from the darkness that consumed his world. “I’m hungry.”

When faced with virtually no information about Tony Zucco aside from his sterling reputation within the community and the many mentionings of his hand in local businesses, Bealladonna’s bullshit detector started going off. Jaded or not, a wise man once said if something seemed too good to be true then it was.

When one word didn’t work, she opted to cross reference the name of Tony Zucco with Roman Sionis and then she found it.

The words "shooting" and "Masquerade Noir" had caught her attention, and as she read, she began to piece together a story that had unfolded just months after Roman's release from prison.

The article detailed an incendent that had unfolded at the location that would later become Roman’s club, he had been looking at the building with a leasing agent when Tony Zucco and his men showed up.

The statement of the leasing agent told of how Roman instructed her to flee and call the police and when she ran Tony’s men persued her. She imagined Roman's tall, dark frame acting as a barrier between the fleeing woman and Zucco's thugs. Roman then inteviened and tackled one fo the men by throwing punches but was qickly overwhelmed when he second man attacked Roman from behind. The witness report stated she saw Roman taking a severe beating on his knees before she went for help.

Roman out-numbered two to one, those seemed like his kind of odds. The image of his strong, muscular body entangled in a vicious fight made her shiver with both fear and admiration. It was compelling but something about it just wasn’t right. Where was Zsasz? She hadn’t bothered to look up anything about Zsasz, that one she had been a little afraid to look into.

The article continued stating by the time the police had arraived the two men were dead from gunshot wounds, Tony Zucco was shot in the chest but still alive and Roman was shot in the shoulder. She could almost hear the gunshots echoing through the empty building as Roman and Zucco traded fire.

Her breath caught in her throat as she envisioned Roman wounded and bleeding. She thought back to earlier that morning when she’d caught sight of him with that towel draped around his waist. She’d seen a few scars, one in particular on his shoulder, it had looked like a bullet but she couldn't tell from where she was.

As she absorbed the information, she could almost see the scene play out in her mind: Roman, bloodied but unbowed, bringing down the older man before collapsing into unconsciousness. It wasn't long after this brutal exchange that the police arrived, taking both men to Gotham General Hospital for treatment.

"Both men were treated and held in medical hold with armed police officers until they cold be taken to the GCPD." She read further. 

While there was push from Zucco’s attourney to have Roman thrown back into Blackgate for the shooting and there was a potential civil lawsuit against him, the judge had ruled that Roman was out numbered, out gunned and he acted in reasonable self defense. 

"Tony Zucco was sentenced to ten years for conspiracy to commit murder, assault with a deadly weapon, criminal conspiracy, and criminal solicitation. " 

It had been, as far as she could tell, a slam dunk case mostly thanks to the severity of Romans injuries and the leasing agent who had witnessed the whole ordeal. She had stepped forward offering testimony, ultimately clearing Roman Sionis of any wrongdoing.

She moved from one article to another that talked about Tony Zucco’s release several years ago and he hadn’t been mentioned that much since, choosing to keep a quiet profile until almost all mention of him stopped. And a price reduction of several hundred thousand dollars had left the building vacant, which Roman swooped in to purchase it months later.

"Masquerade Noir opens its doors... quickly becoming Gotham's hottest night spot," She read aloud, her voice tinged with disbelief. The club had been born from violence, yet now thrived with people fighting to get in.

"Roman Sionis: Behind the Mystery" – another article title caught her eye, and she clicked on it eagerly. Scrolling through the text, she absorbed every detail there were interviews with staff, patrons, all speaking very highly of Roman as an employer who ran an immaculate ship. Didn’t tolerate any shady activity and overall, all who set foot inside his doors reported they loved the experience and felt safe and eager to return even if a martini cost almost twenty five dollars.

"From violence to prospering into an icon of the city; one thing is certain – he has built an empire from nothing, and many are drawn to the allure of his power and charm."

The sudden buzz of the intercom jolted Belladonna from her thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Miss Black, Mr. Sionis is in the lobby to pick you up," The security guards voice came through the speaker.

"Thank you, tell him I’ll be right down." She managed to reply, quickly shutting down her laptop and packing her bag. 

As she stepped out of her office and made her way to the lobby, she considered what she might say to him, or even if she’d say anything at all. He’d never forbade her from looking into his past, never warned her not to go digging and what kind of idiot would she be if she didn’t at least do some light Googling into a man that she was growing more intimately connected with? Hell, she was all but sleeping with him at this point, she was living with him. 

Her steps slowed as she entered the elevator and waited for it to carry her to the first floor. He did, however, tell her to ask fewer questions or learn to look the other way. 

"Angel," 

Roman's deep voice called as he saw her, his eyes alight with a mix of desire and possessiveness and he wore a smile that could charm the devil himself. He crossed the distance between them in a few swift strides, pulling her into an unusually passionate kiss that caught her off guard. There was no one here aside from the security guard who wasn’t even watching, why the show? Something put him in a good mood. 

"Hi.” She said a little breathlessly.

He ushered her toward his black Maserati parked outside, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "Hungry?"

"Actually, yeah." She replied, her previous queries now pushed to the back burner after that kiss and the prospect of dinner. She wondered what he had in mind but before she could ask he answered that with a question of his own.

"Ever had Turkish?" Roman asked, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She wasn’t sure what it was but something had put him in a very good mood, it was hard to find any hint of those little tendrils of darkness that usually clung to him. It was then that she registered his question and her lips curled in distaste, the memory of her father's rants about 'those damned Turks' still fresh even after all these years. 

"No, of course not." She said it with an almost laugh, as if it was the dumbest question she’d been asked.

Roman's gaze sharpened, and she could almost hear the unspoken reprimand. “Excuse me?’ Who's never had Turkish in this cultural melting pot of a city? It’s almost offensive.”

“Sorry?” She shrugged. "Did you forget I'm half Greek and my father is something of a xenophobe?" She replied, unable to keep the slightly defensive note from her voice.

"What's that got to do with food?" He asked perplexed as the car pulled away from the curb.

Belladonna bit her lip. Did Roman really need her to explain her father's deep seeded, outdated, cultural hatred? She thought it was pretty self explanatory. On the other hand it was just as plausible for Roman to harbor no real hate for anyone unless they crossed him in which case that was most certainly a ‘case by case’ basis. He also seemed like an ‘I hate everybody equally’ type of man. He was a total social butterfly, floating between different groups without a care in the world. Old grudges and racial tensions didn't seem to faze him at all, personal grudges? Well, that was likely different.

"Turkish food," She finally said. "Greece and Turkey have been enemies for centuries,” She managed. "Ever since the Ottoman Empire conquered Constantinople in 1453, there's been bad blood between the nations. Even now they're still not exactly friends-"

"Despite both being NATO allies..." Roman interjected, one dark brow arched knowingly. 

His mention of something so political surprised her, Roman was smart but she didn’t really think of him as ‘politics smart.’ She had never thought of him as someone who paid attention to politics, let alone casually mention it. But in a way, it did make a certain kind of sense, the politics of crime.

"Just because someone is an ally, doesn't make them friends." 

She froze, hearing the echo of their own intricate affiliation in those words. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by an awkward tension. 

Without warning, Roman's hand reached out to cup her chin and he silenced any concerns she had with a deep, passionate kiss. His lips moved slowly over hers, lulling her into a relaxed state, slow, smoldering, possessive and hungry. When he pulled away, she was left breathless, her mind pleasantly unfocused. 

"Trust me, you're gonna love it," He purred, low and seductive, his thumb stroking over her lower lip. 

He didn't acknowledge her earlier words or the uneasy parallel she had drawn between them. If her comment bothered him, he didn't let it show. 

“Was your father that much of a bigot to keep you from trying some of the most delicious food known to man?” Roman's disbelief was evident in his tone, and it surprised her. She had never thought of him as a foodie but he seemed all riled up over it.

“Roman, what do you think?” She asked dryly.

"Come on," he said. "Time you tried some Turkish delight."

“That jello thing that little prick Edmund liked from the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe?”

Roman rolled his eyes, and scoffed. “You know classic children's fantasy literature but you’ve never had Turkish?”

“You mean, ‘I know classic Christian biblical propaganda?’ Then yes, I do. I went to an all girls Catholic school, remember?”

A sly smile crossed Roman's face. “Oh, Angel, trust me. That’s a detail I’ve never forgotten.”

Just an hour ago she’d read through as much of Romans criminal history as she could find, she was still no closer to discovering what it was that happened between his family and him. She didn’t for one second buy the fact that he’d done three years for tax evasion or that there was no validity to any of the other charges against him. 

He did it. She was sure. 

And she knew for a fact that the shooting that took place in his club couldn’t have been as simple as the article had made it out to be. 

Roman protecting a curiously present leasing agent when someone he had a sketchy past with had just happen to show up? Not for a second.

She couldn't explain it, but somehow Roman had found a way to get away with murder and attempted murder. And now, he was doing it again with Jimmy. Even more unsettling, she was helping him - at times, even enjoying it. She could hardly believe how comfortable she had become in his presence, especially since learning to read him better. As they drove through the streets of Gotham, for what was sounding more and more like a real date, Roman wore something that hovered between a smile and a smirk. His hand rested possessively on her thigh, thumb gently grazing her leg through the fabric of her jeans. Electric sparks shooting between their bodies like lightning bolts. She couldn't deny the thrill she felt being by his side, despite the danger and moral ambiguity of their actions together.

Roman was a man of many qualities, but at the forefront of it all was his ability to survive. She couldn't imagine how much blood he must have shed to get to where he was. Despite knowing he was dangerous and having witnessed his quick fire temper firsthand, and even being mildly on the receiving end a few times. She was drawn to him. 

Everything about this man should have sent her running and screaming.

But it didn’t. 

First he’d spared her life, then he’d saved her life more than once, called down an armed assault when she’d been in danger and nearly declared war with another criminal over her. Yet, here he was, sitting beside her, taking her to dinner after a long workday, to try something new. She wasn’t bothered by his touch, in fact, she craved it. Despite the red flags every Cosmo had ever told her to look for and run from there was a warmth emanating from those flags, like a bullet-proof, blood red blanket. 

Roman Sionis was a pit bull. An angry dog with a penchant for biting and slicing off ears. Dropping bodies where it pleased him and something about that knowledge set every nerve of hers on fire. 

He was a criminal. A killer with blood on his hands. And a psychopath with violence in his heart. And if there was a God in heaven, let him help her because she was falling for him.

I woke up a little early so here's a happy surprise for you guys! So, we got a little more insight into Roman's past, eh? Anyone else get the impression we're missing some information???? Belladonna does. Hope you guys liked this chapter, I know I'm teasing you guys mercilessly but stick with me I PROMISE YOU the smut is coming in the next chapter or two, it just depends on pacing but it will be worth it! Y'all have stuck with me this far just hang on a little longer. I need to work on a few one-shots but I have the next chapter mostly planned out so it shouldn't take quite as long. I also had some family in town so writing was put on the back burner for a little bit.

I'm really loving how this story is coming together and I really appreciate everyone's support, especially my mysterious anonymous questioner who checks in on me, I don't know who you are but I appreciate you! Comments and interaction comes from such a small group so the feedback and check-ins really do keep me motivated!

How do you guys like the new look fo the story??? I finally got Canva Premium so I think I'll be playing around with some more fun stuff like the bars and dividers. You guys know what to do, reblog with those crazy tags, comment and like! Reblogs are the best way to circulate work on Tumblr so we can reach more Toxic Fangirls! And speaking of which a big welcome to a new potential member of the Roman Sionis Toxic Love Fangirl Club who is actually a pretty damn good writer her/their damnself! Looking at you @gilverrwrites and my other toxic fangirls too! @hereticpriest @daenerys-skywalker @tarrenterror25 @supernatural-lover and @keffirinneYou guys are my cheer squad!

Have a great day, let me know what you all think, and stay toxic.

#roman sionis smut #fake relationship #fanfiction is life #original character #close proximity #slightly toxic #slight power imbalance #medium burn romance #shadows of deception #belladonna black #belladonna fucking black #i have too many fanfictions #roman sionis toxic love fangirl club #black mask smut #black mask #black mask fanfiction #roman sionis #roman sionis x original female character #simping for the bad guy #dc #dc fandom #dc birds of prey #there will be smut #romansionisfanfiction #romansionissmut #dark romance #ewan mcgregor characters #alternate universe #yandere #roman sionis has anger issues

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Under the Influence by Chris Brown

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

---

His index finger rapped against the glass of scotch, the rhythm not bound by any conventional beat but rather mirroring the erratic tempo of Roman’s internal world. He listened intently to the audio from Belladonna's police interview. He’d lost track of how many times he’d replayed it, too many to count. He was fixated in particular on replaying the moments where Belladonna described her understanding of their relationship on an endless loop.

“Roman only cares about himself. You’re nothing to him.” 

His lip curled up each time he listened to Ramirez’s bold assertions. Just who the fuck did he think he was? Every word that he spoke only egged on Roman’s more violent intrusive thoughts, every little dig at Belladonna, every attempt to rile her up and his index finger tapped a little harder on the glass. But then Belladonna’s voice came over the recording and his tempo returned to its earlier calm but odd tempo.

“I know.”

"I'm not stupid—maybe a little starry-eyed, but not stupid. I see the score. And you’re right, men like Roman don't fall in love; but they do dip their toes in it for a bit. I get it. Sooner or later, he'll move on, find someone more exciting, someone willing to do things I won't. And when that day comes, I'll thank him for the good times and go my own way."

Then his tapping stopped altogether, and his grip on the glass relaxed so much it nearly slipped from his hand.

“And what if he doesn’t let you go that easy?” 

"Life's short—last year sure hammered that home. If Jimmy's fate tells us anything, it's that nothing's guaranteed. Not today, not tomorrow. So, until my clock runs out, I'm going to enjoy every second I can, and right now, I’m enjoying them with Roman. He makes me feel alive." 

He grinned at that last part, so he made her feel alive, huh? Funny, he usually had the exact opposite reaction on people.

He’d had more than a few run screaming from his presence when he lost his temper, when the mask of the confident club owner slipped and the monster beneath it peaked out, eyes burning and frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. One way or another, none of them had what it took to handle a man like him, though to be fair, he’d never been terribly interested in women as anything more than a means to let out some pent-up frustrations, and they didn’t always enjoy it either. He wasn’t a gentle lover. That wasn’t to say Roman ever forced anyone to do anything they didn’t want to, he wasn’t one of those types. 

Women were a fickle thing that he never understood, like most men, and he’d seen them all. The starry-eyed naive girls hoping to bring out a softer side to him, the wanna-be she-doms who thought they could control him, what a laugh. The ones that insisted they could be everything he wanted and meet his every desire, not in his experience. There had even been a few crazies who’d insisted they could match his particular brand of insanity, but Roman had time and time proved to be too much for even them to handle and in the end, they were just words.

He’d listened to the interview a handful of times since returning to the penthouse with Belladonna, long after the doc had told him to sit down and wait, there wasn’t anything else Roman could do apart from look like a lovesick puppy at her bedside. And he sure as shit wasn’t about to do that, though it didn’t stop him from occasionally putting down the recorder and wandering into the room to look at her. 

He'd managed to keep his visits under five, and he certainly didn’t sit by her bedside, or rather his bed all weepy-eyed clutching her hand, no he simply stood in the doorway like a respectable psychopath, thank you very much. At least, he’d started out that way. With each visit he found himself drawn a little closer into the room but it had been hours since their return, and every time he looked at her, his gut twisted into tighter knots. She looked like a rag doll, her olive skin unnaturally pale and sickly—a sight that grated on him. When the hell was she going to wake up? This was just plain ridiculous.

He’d nearly strode into the room with the intent of shaking her awake but the second he’d felt her breath on his outstretched hand the sudden urge died inside him replaced by something he couldn’t understand or explain and he once more retreated to his office. Stan’s assurances did little to quell his unease; he claimed she was fine, just experiencing the aftermath of a sugar crash, and that sleeping was a natural consequence but he wasn't convinced. 

Everyone in this whole damned penthouse was entirely too calm. He felt like he was going crazy. Well, crazier.

He didn’t even understand why he was so fixated on her. There was no reason to be.

Damn it, there wasn’t a safer place for her than right here, in his bed nonetheless.

She was fine. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine!

Except it wasn’t. And he wasn’t the only one who knew that.

Powerless wasn’t a feeling Roman Sionis liked at all and that’s exactly how he felt. Powerless. All he could do was wait for her to wake up, and then they would have a discussion about her stupid decision to leave his penthouse. They’d most definitely be going over some of her answers in that interview… Oh, he had some thoughts about that too.

But then his thoughts would circle back to the reason for her departure in the first place, and he clenched his fists in frustration, cracking his knuckles, before pouring another scotch.

He wasn’t good at this. The whole waiting thing, patience wasn’t his strong suit. God, what he wouldn’t have given for a little good old-fashioned interrogation right now, just something to take his mind off the uncharted territory he was drifting in. He wanted familiarity and routine, his normal, so his mind wandered back to the only thing he could approach cold-heartedly; the recent encounter with Cobblepot. Surely focusing on business matters would provide some respite from the chaos of his emotions. Ew, emotions, what was he, turning into some pussy little girl? But as he replayed the scene in his mind, the anger that had simmered within him boiled over once more.

At first, he was furious with Belladonna for finding herself in such a precarious situation, his lip twitching. But when he saw the gun pointed at her, his fury transformed into a blazing inferno of rage. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming need to protect her, to assert his dominance and stake his claim.

And then, without hesitation, he uttered those possessive words in front of both groups of men. 

‘His woman.’

His.

It was a slip of the tongue, he told himself. Of course it was, he would never say something so stupid.

But then it wasn’t. Was it? 

In his mind, he went back and forth, debating every which way he could, talking himself in circles. It was a purely tactical decision he’d made, a carefully selected choice of words. By attaching Belladonna to him like that, it sent a message loud and clear; keep away. 

But at the same time, it was a double-edged sword, making her a bigger target, a vulnerability to Roman opening him up to further attacks from those who were stupid enough to use her against him. And of course, he had to protect her anyway, because if anything happened to her, his life would only get more complicated with the police breathing down his goddamn neck.

Frustrated and angry, he clenched his teeth and gripped the leather arms of his chair before everything inside him welled up and exploded like a reactor, chucking his glass of scotch at the wall in a burst of murderous glitter. Why had every moment since he’d decided to let her live only been incredibly complicated and taxing? 

This wasn’t like him, and he knew that his little heroic display would cause problems within his ranks. His tunnel vision wasn’t so all-consuming that he missed the shocked and curious looks his men gave him as he left her loft, carrying Belladonna in his arms. No, this was going to be something he’d have to sort out later, probably in a very grand fashion. He needed to be more vigilant now than ever, more ruthless, which meant she had to stop being so damn careless. He had to bring her in closer, tell her more. Pull her in deeper.

Most of his men were simply hired help and very few of them possessed what one might think of as genuine loyalty; Zsasz aside, he couldn’t think of anyone specifically that he didn’t have to make a direct deposit to for reliability. Until the enigma that was Belladonna Black.

"If you want me to spin a story to help you dodge your duties and let the real killer go, find someone else," she asserted. "Roman didn’t kill Jimmy. He was with me, delivering a memorable experience against a cinderblock wall, then I gave him my number and got a lift home."

He smirked again as the audio came to its conclusion. She said she could do it and she’d done it. She’d lied for him and in exquisite fashion as well, it was a good performance, one she deserved a standing ovation for. She’d been in control of every second of that interview from the moment she’d sat down. It sounded so convincing and he would have given anything to see the look on Ramirez’s face, but Derrick assured him it was everything he imagined it was. 

A quick flash of frustration, his stupid, fat, fucking face filling with disappointment and anger. But mostly it was a realization that Belladonna Black wasn’t going to be one turned so easily, and that brought a smile to his face.

Which was, precisely when the twin Detective Douchebags turned their focus on him. They wound him up easily and he couldn’t explain why. Well, that wasn’t true, he knew why he’d gotten so wound up. It was because, at the time, he hadn’t entirely trusted Belladonna; he didn’t know if he could. He knew it now though, and so did those fucking cops.

Fear didn’t keep someone loyal, it kept them afraid, and in that interview room, Craven had used that fear of Belladonna’s trustworthiness against him. All his pep talks, all his charm on Belladonna, and the few threats he’d made against her had all been unnecessary, she trusted him enough to put her neck on the line for him and he hadn’t exactly been a gentleman. At best he’d been a reliable source of thinly veiled threats, promises he’d yet to deliver on, and the occasional orgasm.

No, he couldn’t explain what was happening to him these last two months, any more than he could explain his decision to let Belladonna live. It was a whim. But the facts were the facts now, she was in far too deep for her to just disappear. And he was quickly coming to the understanding that he wanted it that way. That he wanted her to continue to drive him insane with her smart mouth and constant retorts, wanted to keep showing up at her work and making a spectacle out of their displays of affection but he also wanted to keep driving her insane too. He didn’t know why but he loved it.

Two firm raps at the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and Zsasz leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze taking in his brooding boss. He looked to Zsasz and gave a simple head nod to enter, then he rose to grab another glass and poured himself a new drink.

"It's not too late. We can still find a solution for her," 

Roman paused, and the gentle clinking of the decanter against his glass ceased.

Zsasz’s suggestion lacked his usual sharp certainty, but rather it held an edge of hesitancy that wasn’t typical for him. To some degree he was right, people disappeared in Gotham every day, never to be seen again, but the notion of Belladonna being one of them wasn’t one he was willing to entertain anymore.

Roman took a long sip of his drink before responding in a flat, emotionless voice, "No, Zsasz. I think we're past that now."

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, knowing that what Belladonna said about their relationship was true, but hating it all the same. He wanted her to want him, he couldn't pinpoint why, she had become important to him. It both irked and exhilarated him. It was the way she’d looked at him like he was the hero, as opposed to what he really was, the monster in the closet. Somehow she was changing from a pawn he liked to play with, to a queen whom he was pulling out all the stops for.

Zsasz sat down "If she's here to stay, we'll need to increase her security. We’re looking at major changes to protect her and address the problems this’ll cause."

Roman nodded, understanding that both he and Zsasz had similar concerns about maintaining his reputation as a formidable criminal without appearing weak. The notion that a woman could soften a man’s heart like him was a fantasy, the fact was; Roman was about to get meaner. There would be fewer severed ears and more severed limbs and plucked eyes.

“Where do we start?” Roman pushed a glass over to Zsasz. “Could we just burn down the whole damn city?”

“That’d be a lot of bodies,” Zsasz replied after a moment pouring himself a drink with no ice.

“Oh, what’s a few hundred thousand bodies?” 

Zsasz smirked and looked as though he was running the numbers in his head but ultimately he came to the same conclusion he knew Roman had come to. They needed to be smart about this, the game was changing, and losers clung to outdated rules, while the victors won by creating their own.

“Her place is a weak point, had the men going through it top to bottom, found a few listening devices aside from yours, but we’ll need a team to do a more in-depth sweep for anything else. Cobblepot has access to top-tier gear, I doubt we’ve found everything.”

“Oswald… He’s not even the real problem is he?” The ice in Roman’s glass clinked with another sip. “What’s the word in the ranks?”

“There's some mutterings but nothing that can’t be fixed by an appropriate show of force.” An appropriate show of force usually meant bodies or blood. Or both. “She’ll have to step up too, they need to be just as afraid of her as they are of you.”

Roman scoffed, that was an amusing idea, his men being afraid of Belladonna, sure she had a resting bitch face that could make most people shrivel, but he couldn’t see Belladonna so much as squishing a bug. “Where are we with Jimmy?”

"Everything seems to line up with your plans," Zsasz reported, "except for one thing: Jimmy doesn't appear to have any association with Cobblepot." 

“How the fuck is that possible? He had at least ten grand worth of product all with Cobblepots branding, and the boys at the lab even had it tested, it was all legit and 100% pure.”

"Well, Cobblepot did say you two needed to talk," Zsasz replied, a sly grin on his face. "We could get the information we need if you handle him carefully."

Roman agreed, scowling at the mention of Cobblepot's name. "How the fuck is he involved in this?" he muttered under his breath, adding, "Keep your enemies closer..."

Just then, a knock at the door alerted both men to the presence of Roman's personal doctor. 

"Roman, she’s awake."

—

Belladonna's eyes fluttered open, the world around her resembled more of a kaleidoscope; unfocused and hazy. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, the only source of light came from a bedside table and a light outside the room she was in. The walls were a dark, rich color and adorned with expensive artwork. The furniture was modern and sleek, befitting of someone with lots of money. The sheets were luxurious and cool to the touch when she stretched out on them only to realize she was lying in a bed that wasn't her own. She knew this was likely Roman’s penthose but it wasn’t until she turned into his pillow and breathed it in.

A mixture of expensive cologne with an underlying hint of something dark and alluring. The clean, fresh scent of soap hung in the air, mingling with the cologne to create a distinctly masculine smell. And beneath it all was a raw, primal scent that could only be described as pure testosterone. All of it screaming Roman Sionis.

As she struggled to sit up, the room spun around her, and a sharp pain shot through her arm and she drew in a ragged breath; somewhere between a shriek and a gasp. When she finally managed to prop herself up, she noticed something that made her stomach drop: there was a needle lodged in her arm, connected to an IV bag hanging next to the bed. Panic quickly set in as she struggled to focus on the contents of the bag; her vision was still hazy. She had no clue what was being pumped into her and began to hyperventilate.

She couldn’t just unhook it, she didn’t know how, and she had nothing to stop the bleeding. She wanted to get out of there. She tried to stand but that was a mistake and dizziness washed over her like a tidal wave, causing her to lose her balance and fall back, grasping at the nightstand.

"Shit!" She muttered, knocking over a glass of water in the process, its contents spilling onto the cold floor, glass shattering everywhere. The needle in her arm shifted causing more pain and blood began to trickle down her arm. Fuck!

Footsteps quickly approached, and a man she had never seen before entered the room. Panic surged through her veins, and she scrambled away from him while trying to avoid the glass.

"Stay away from me!" Her voice was scratchy and weak.

"Miss Black, it's alright, I’m Dr. Stan," he said calmly, his hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm Roman's personal physician, and you're currently in his penthouse." She studied him for a minute, he could be a doctor, sure, he looked the right age, and his glasses gave him a scholarly kind of vibe. And not that it meant anything but she was fairly sure, he was wearing a hairpiece, but that wasn’t really a judgment on her part, just an observation.

"Roman?" 

"You had a sugar crash, do you remember?" She squinted like she was trying to remember but groaned and clutched her head, ultimately shaking it. "Ok, I understand, don't worry, you're perfectly safe, I’m going to help you."

“What is that?”

He approached carefully like one might cozy up to a wounded animal with the intention of helping it. “It’s a dextrose solution, you were dehydrated and your sugar levels were too low, I had to administer an IV to get you to a safer place.”

Belladonna's gaze darted to the needle in her arm again, and she winced as she felt a sharp pain. "Can you take it out?" she pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency.

The doctor nodded, understanding her distress. "Of course," he said, moving closer to inspect the IV. 

As her panic subsided, and she allowed him to come closer, he carefully helped her back onto the bed, kicking the glass aside. 

What kind of name was Stan? Was that his first name or his last? Did doctors go by their first names when it came to personal doctors? She didn’t even know they made house calls. He reached for his medical bag that had been on the floor and pulled out a few things, 

"How long was I out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been a few hours," 

She winced as he pressed a quarter-folded piece of gauze against the needle site, but she mostly stayed completely still. Once the bleeding subsided, he took an alcohol wipe and started cleaning up the blood that had trickled down her arm, before turning to the IV. His movements were precise and controlled, the adhesive tape pulled on her skin and it was the kind of sensation that made her want to rub the spot profusely. 

"Hold pressure here," he instructed, placing another piece of gauze over the needle site before he finally removed it. Then he reached for a roll of blue self-adhesive tape and wrapped it around her arm, securing everything in place with a bit of pressure. “Better?”

“Much.”

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like the floor of a taxi," she admitted, rubbing her temples, he chuckled. At least her sense of humor was intact.

"Understandable. You were in pretty rough shape when Roman found you. Let’s check your vitals,” 

He reached back into his bag and began pulling out several items, setting them on the bedside table; a blood pressure cuff, one of those things they stick on your finger at the doctor’s office, a stethoscope, and a thermometer. “You know, you’re very lucky, Roman knew how to stabilize your sugars." 

Roman did what? She didn’t remember any of that, the last thing she remembered was seeing Roman looking as angry as she’d ever seen him telling her to come to him. 

Belladonna furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to recall the events that had led her here but everything was hazy at best and it really did feel like a dream. 

"What happened?"

He placed the cuff on her left arm and inflated it, inducing the familiar annoying pressure, then placed the stethoscope on her brachial artery listening as the pressure released slowly. 

"You called Roman, and he arrived before you lost consciousness." 

She vaguely remembered Roman telling her to eat something but it was so unclear she thought it was part of a dream. Doctor Stan must have noticed the constant licking of her lips and he supplied the answer before she even asked the question, “He said he got you to eat some M&Ms, but you were pretty out of it, good thing you had them handy, complex carbohydrates are your friend at a time like this.” 

He loosened the cuff and the tingling in her fingers began to ebb. “120/80, that's good.”

He placed the pressure cuff back into the bag and placed the little monitoring thing, whatever it was, on her finger and then brought the thermometer to her forehead. 

“He was pretty frantic when called me and had me come over, said it was a top-tier emergency, and to be honest I expected worse,” the thermometer beeped and he seemed pleased with the result, “98 degrees.” He said passively, then he took his stethoscope from his neck and put it on. "Alright, Belladonna, I'm going to listen to your breathing now. I need you to take slow, deep breaths through your nose. Inhale deeply, then exhale slowly."

"Roman was worried about me?" she asked skeptically before complying with the first breath, he moved the stethoscope and indicated another deep breath.

"Very much so," the doctor said, nodding. "I've never seen him like this. When he called me, I was surprised it wasn't about him being in trouble – but well, Roman has a way of defying conventional expectations." He moved the stethoscope one more time, “Few more deep breaths,”

She nearly laughed, then breathed in deeply and slowly several times. Feeling a spark of warmth at the thought as she settled back onto the bed.

"He’ll be glad to know you’re awake," He put the stethoscope away and took her pulse, centering his index and middle finger on her radial artery and applied pressure while looking at his watch. 

“Your pulse looks good. Alright, sit tight, I’ll be right back.” 

Roman was worried? No, he didn’t say worried, he said; frantic. It was hard to picture Roman any other way than amused or angry, there was no in-between. At least not that she had ever seen. It was impossible to picture Roman as anything other than composed, what exactly did that mean? What was frantic Roman like? Probably very similar to angry Roman, she reasoned. 

Roman wasn’t a man who liked it when he wasn’t in control. That much was well understood. She could almost imagine him yelling into a phone, lots of swearing, probably reiterating that money was no objective and it was a sweet thought. One that caught her off guard so much so that she almost didn’t notice the multiple sets of approaching footsteps. 

Moments later, Roman appeared with Zsasz in tow. His expression was stern, but maybe there was just a hint of concern in his eyes. She wondered if she was imagining it.

“Welcome back, Angel.” Roman’s heavy and dark voice drifted back into the room. "Doctor, what's the verdict?" 

Doctor Stan looked up at Roman and he seemed very pleased, "I think she’ll be fine, just going to do a few more things and I’ll be out of your hair, let's check your glucose levels." 

He took out an alcohol wipe and produced a glucometer, a lancet, and a bandaid. As if second nature she held out her index finger, he wiped down her finger and the lancet snapped out pricking her fingertip, she made a face at the lancet and stuck her finger but otherwise didn’t react. 

“Any lingering pains?” He pressed the test strip to her finger and the blood soaked into the strip.

“Just a headache.” 

“Well, that’s normal, I’d recommend some electrolytes, sports drinks, or maybe some coconut water.” 

Zsasz pulled a face at the lancet and the small bead of blood on her fingertip, he seemed uncomfortable. 

“Oh, come on now Zsasz, with all the work you do for Roman, a little finger prick test has you squirming?”

“You have any idea how many nerve endings are in your fingertips?”

It seemed an off thing for Zsasz to be uncomfortable with but she supposed it made sense, she instinctively brought her fingertip to her lips but Roman quickly grabbed it and wrapped the bandage around her index finger.

“As a matter of fact I do, learned all about it in med school, over 3000 per square inch.” 

He fed the test strip into the glucometer and waited for the device to finish its reading. 

“The headache we can manage with over-the-counter headache medicine, but if you like I can give you something a little stronger, drink plenty of fluids, no strenuous activity.”

The glucometer beeped and he checked the results, his brow furrowed. 

"Belladonna, your blood sugar level is a bit lower than we'd like to see right now. It's currently measuring between 60 to 70 milligrams per deciliter, which is slightly below the normal range for someone without diabetes. While it's not dangerously low, it's important to bring it up a bit to ensure you're feeling your best. A good balanced meal with carbohydrates, proteins, healthy fats, fruits, and vegetables should fix that. How do you feel about having a snack or a drink with some sugar in it?"

She offered a weak smile and nodded, “Sounds good actually,” Roman whispered something to Zsasz and he quickly left the room.

"A nice quiet evening will have you back on your feet and let's try to avoid any more sugar crashes, no skipping meals.” He actually wagged his finger at her, she hadn’t been chided by a doctor in a hot minute, but she liked Stan. Seemed like a nice guy and she added his name to the list of people whom she was shocked to associate with Roman Sionis. 

“A nice evening of what the kids call 'Netflix and chill.'"

"It’s already handled" Roman agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “What sort of snack in the meantime?”

“Candy can work in a pinch but let’s try to stay away from it, something like fruit would be better, it's absorbed more easily into the bloodstream. Don’t forget to replace that emergency stash of M&Ms in your bag.”

“With or without the chocolate fountain?” The doctor just chuckled, shaking his head at Roman, and packed up his bag. 

“Get some rest, Miss Black, call me if you need anything.” He spoke the last part more to Roman than Belladonna. 

"Thank you, Stan," 

Roman walked Dr. Stan to the door and in the shadows that fell over them, but they were still in Belladonna’s view, as was the small stack of cash Roman tried to discreetly hand him. Stan held out his hand to Roman and tried to wave it away but Roman didn’t budge.

“Oh, no, no, Roman, this is far too much. It's not like I removed a bullet."

"Not this time," Roman countered, his tone darkly humorous.

Dr. Stan chuckled and nodded, “Well, this was one of the easier house calls,” As they reached the door Dr. Stan mentioned something Belladonna heard but couldn’t understand it was too muffled from their distance, and Roman didn't respond.

There was the sound of Roman footsteps coming back into the room, but when he returned to her side, he held a pomegranate in his hand and wore the look of a parent about to lecture her. She pulled her knees a bit closer to her chest as he sat on the bed, still not saying a word.

She watched as Roman meticulously peeled the crimson pomegranate, its juice staining his fingers. 

“Where’d Zsasz go?”

"I had him go get Thai for you." Her eyes widened in surprise; she didn't recall ever telling him she liked Thai, but then again, who didn’t?

"How'd you know I like Thai food?" she asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

Roman smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I have my ways, Angel." He held out the pomegranate to her. She hesitated, never having eaten one before, then pushed it away, seeking answers instead.

"Roman, what happened? Tell me about Oswald Cobblepot. Why was he at my place?"

"He was dropping off my dry cleaning," he replied humorlessly, but his expression turned serious, holding out the crimson gem-like pomegranate seed again, “I’m waiting, Angel.” 

“So am I.” Stubborn as ever.

"I’ll make you a deal; questions answered, but only if you eat." 

He gently pressed a pomegranate seed between her lips, holding his fingers there for her to bite down on. After a few seconds, her lips gave way and she accepted the piece of fruit, her lips brushing his fingers. He seemed relieved. 

"Ask away, Angel," Roman said, biting into the pomegranate like an apple. He placed a chunk of the seeded fruit into her hand, which she studied for a minute before plucking several little ruby-like seeds and popping them into her mouth. The tart sweetness burst on her tongue in a way that put strawberries to shame, and she asked;

"Who is Oswald Cobblepot?"

"Oswald is a criminal who deals with stolen goods, bribery, witness intimidation, theft, controlled substances, and occasionally murder," Roman replied deadpan. "As for our personal relationship, we've known each other for years. We went to prep school together, and our families have a long history together." 

So Cobblepot wasn’t lying about that, the conversation she had with him began to drift back into her mind. “Tell me about your family,"

His face darkened. "That's not up for discussion."

She looked away, the frustration was impossible to miss and after the day she’d had, and in a rare act of submission he offered up the following.

"We haven't spoken in years, I last saw them when I was twenty-one." he said tersely. "Now, let's talk about what happened at your apartment. What's the last thing you remember?”

She chewed on the seeds before spitting one into her hand, uncertain of what to do with it, 

“Eat the seeds angel, they're good for you. You can swallow them whole.” Roman took another bite of the pomegranate juice staining his lips, something she tried to ignore.

“He had a magazine with our picture in it,”

Roman smirked, “I saw it. Explains what got into you that night after the party,” He grinned, biting into the fruit again and licking his lips. 

“He was there when I got back, I didn’t even get the door shut all the way before I saw them, I went for the panel but it was disabled.” Roman nodded, “He said, he needed to talk to you about the docks and he thought I could get ahold of you. I called, a bunch,” she looked at him squarely in the eyes, “You didn’t pick up.”

“I’m sorry.” 

It couldn’t go more silent than it already was, and it soon became overbearing with how he looked nowhere other than her eyes, black on black. No hiding, no deflecting, no excuses. He apologized to her. She was stunned.

“It’s-it’s ok-”

“No, it's not.” He chewed a few more seeds, “It won’t happen again, if you call I come running, guns blazing. No questions asked.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, she was speechless. She just nodded in agreement, unsure of how to handle such sincerity. 

“Did he touch you?”

She thought back to her loft, aside from the hand patting a few times, the answer was a resounding no and she shuddered at the thought.

“Not really,” she rubbed her hands, “Patted my hands like a teacher or something.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” She shook her head and continued to rub at her hands trying to erase the memory. 

“I feel like I need a scalding hot shower,” 

Roman took her hand and pressed a surprisingly gentlemanly kiss to it, then her palm like he did whenever he visited her at work. It was a sweet gesture but it did little to counter the taste of apprehension that came with her next question. 

“What happened at the docks?”

Roman paused and seemed like he was weighing his options before replying. “Business.”

“I saw the guy's ear, Roman. You did that?” He gave her a hard look, not a cold or cruel one but it was like he was trying to decide something. “And you, bit a kid's ear back in high school?” He smirked.

“Only a little.” At the mere mentioning of the memory, Roman grinned a dark grin.

He seemed to have made up his mind about what to tell her because he handed her more fruit and began speaking again. 

“His men were trespassing on my territory, so I interrogated them.”

Interrogated. 

“You mean tortured.”

Now he wore no smile, just a strangely detached expression that communicated just, nothing. “I had to send a message. Cobblepot was responding in his own way, I don’t usually send men back alive once they've crossed me. It was a bit out of character.”

“Is he going to come back?”

“Not if he’s smart, he won’t.” He sighed and laid on his side, “But it doesn't mean we’re out of the woods yet, in fact, now that he knows how important you are to me things are only going to get harder.” She stayed quiet on that last note, “You’re not going home.”

She wanted to argue and he knew it, her lips went to form a reply but ultimately her brain caught up with her mouth, and she nodded. Understanding that his concerns had more to do with the practicality of the situation and less about his possessive tendencies.

“That's the third time I know of that a man has broken in, not sure how I’ll ever sleep there again.” 

“I had Zsasz make some calls to some shops for some things for you, I’m not going to have you wearing anything Cobblepot or his men might have touched.” 

There was such a venomous tone to his voice just then and it should have scared her, but after today, Roman seemed like the lesser of the two evils. And in a way, she understood where he had been coming from, she wasn’t sure she wanted to wear any of it either. She stopped eating and stared off into space, maybe thinking of all the things that had gone on in her apartment in her absence and she shuddered.

“Keep eating, angel.”

“Am I in danger?”

He didn’t answer right away, “Yes.” She already knew the answer, but somehow she just needed to hear it from him, maybe because if Roman took something seriously then somehow it was comforting because he didn’t fuck around. 

“Which is why things are going to change.” He suddenly became very serious and he sat up and reached forward to grasp her chin “You are never to leave my side, not even to that little bodega Ernies, no more mysterious motorcycle rides either. And don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.” The expression ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you’ should have kept her silent but it didn’t, was she scared? Shitless. Did that make her spineless? Hell no.

“Angel, I don’t think you realize the gravity of our current situation. I came to your place in force with a dozen of my best-armed men and Cobblepot knows I’ll did it to protect you. My own men know that and let's just say they've never seen me hold a door open for a woman much less call up an armed assault. And I’ve certainly never carried an unconscious woman in my arms before.”

She started to smile but Roman's hard expression stopped her.  

“There's going to be doubts I’ll have to quiet, people questioning me and my effectiveness. I’m going to have to make some examples. Painful, messy ones. So you’re going ot have to put a bandaid on that bleeding heart of yours.”

“The rules of our agreement have to change.” Now she looked like she might fight him but he stopped her. 

“Never question me in front of any of my men. Ever. Don’t even talk back, nothing that might be construed as you having any sort of control over me, because if you do; I’m going to have to kill a lot of people to prove that you don’t.” 

That stopped her, she didn’t know Romans men or what kind of men they were but she didn’t want any more blood on her hands. 

“Things are going to get even more unsafe and more violent, which is why you can’t leave me, ever. Understand?”

When he said ‘you can’t leave me, ever,’ his voice did a funny thing, so subtle she almost missed it, there was the tiniest hint of pleading in his voice, like something desperate and quivering, then in an instant, it was gone. She nodded and looked to the ground briefly, only to be brought right back to Romans gaze by his grip on her chin, his thumb brushing her lip almost lovingly. 

“You have to listen to me.”

“I promise.”

“You're going to have to learn to look the other way or ask me far fewer questions. Understand?” She nodded, not liking the picture he was painting but also realizing there was little other choice.

"Roman, about today—" she started hesitantly, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Enough about that. I have a lead on your mother," he said, effectively changing the subject. “It’s going to take some finessing but I’ve got Zsasz on it and I’ll know more within the week,”

The mention of her mother made her heart skip a beat. Had he found her already? How? She didn’t care and his confession prompted her to all but crawl into his lap leaning in for a kiss. There was every chance he was just saying it to keep her nice and calm and pliant, he could very well have been lying, but it didn't make sense. Roman was very protective about his reputation as a fairly honest criminal so when he said he had a lead on her mother, she believed him.

He accepted her kiss with little resistance but he clearly wasn’t expecting it, allowing her to lead the way with slow and smoldering movements. Surprisingly, his lips were soft and gentle against hers contrasting with the dangerous aura he had previously exuded. 

But what surprised her even more was his docile behavior; he didn't try to take control or rush the pace. He seemed content to savor the pomegranate juice that lingered on her lips as they moved over his and her tongue dipped into his mouth.

Finally and with some effort, he pulled back from Belladonna’s almost feral advance, his voice a bit breathless and sounding like he was teetering on the edge of some invisible boundary, "Angel, doctor's orders," Roman reminded her as gently as he could manage. 

She remembered his warning from the week prior, when he said ‘no’ he meant it and it had been an uncomfortable lesson and experience, her fingers curled in his hair as she pressed herself against him for one last deep kiss. 

"I know I'm irresistible, but really, the doctor did say to rest," he teased. He held up more of the crimson fruit, “Keep eating.”

She took the seeds and sat back down. "Any more questions?" he asked. 

“What now?”

“Now? We’re moving in together.” She blanched and shot him a panicked look, “Relax kitten, just until I sort out your apartment situation.” 

“What's to sort out?

“Well security, obviously. And your place has been broken into four times, not three.” She looked like she was about to say something but he kept talking, “Need to sweep it for any listening devices or cameras that I didn’t put there before I let you go back.

“I knew it,” Roman winked at her.

“Until that's all settled, I’ll see to it you have anything you need, but for now, you stay here; where I know you’re safe.” 

His choice of words in saying ‘I know you’re safe’ as opposed to 'where I can keep an eye on you’ settled over her with an odd sense of finality and comfort.

“Might just have you stay here till I wrap things up with Jimmy though, got a few things in the works for that too.” 

What did he mean? Jimmy was dead, what sort of plans could he possibly have for a dead man? She started to speak but he placed his hand over her lips, “No, angel, not this. Can’t tell you this. It gives you plausible deniability.” 

How oddly considerate of him? She smirked, lightly pressing her lips to his fingertips. He promptly withdrew them, maybe doubting his ability to adhere to his own suggestion of following the doctor's orders of avoiding strenuous activity.

"Earlier, you told me I was replaceable," Belladonna reminded him, her tone challenging. Roman gave her a hard look, unwilling to discuss it further. "But you seem to be pulling all the stops out for me," she pushed.

"Angel, you haven't seen anything yet," he answered cryptically, his dark eyes promising protection, possession, and a future rife with uncertainty.

The room seemed to swallow them as Roman and Belladonna fell into a heavy silence, she didn’t feel the need to ask any further questions, or maybe because she just couldn’t think of any. 

"So who has pomegranates lying around instead of apples?" 

"Someone with refined taste. You should expand your palate, Belladonna. Pomegranates are considered the fruit of the gods.” She eyed him skeptically. “The pomegranate holds great significance. Some even believe it was a pomegranate, not an apple, that Eve ate in the Garden of Eden. And it was the pomegranate that Persephone ate to become the queen of the underworld in the love story of Hades and Persephone."

"Wait," Belladonna interjected, her brow furrowing. "You mean the pomegranate Hades forced her to eat after he kidnapped her?"

Roman tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Belladonna, you're half-Greek; you should know your mythology better. There are theories that suggest Hades and Persephone had a passionate romance and she willingly went with him, just as much evidence as there is for his supposed kidnapping." There was an odd cheekiness to his expression, as though he was trying to make some coded reference.

He offered her another piece of the fruit, but she eyed it suspiciously. Roman smirked. 

"It's too late. You're already trapped in my underworld until the investigation is done. You may as well enjoy the food." 

It was fascinating how easily Roman could slip between personas - one moment the charming owner of Masquerade Noir, able to entertain and entice, and the next a cold-blooded criminal who had shown mercy by only cutting off a man's ear. The portrait of Roman lounging on his side on a luxurious bed, in a black shirt with a few buttons undone, black slacks, casually eating a pomegranate was quickly burning itself into her brain. He looked so normal.

"How did you know I'm hypoglycemic?"

Roman gave her a mysterious look, his eyes dark and unreadable raising his browns suggestively. "I have eyes everywhere."

"Like my bedroom?" 

"Especially in your bedroom," he replied smoothly. "How else would I know about that little purple toy of yours?"

His teasing was less annoying and now more charming in its own odd way, and whereas before she might have ignored it or gotten irritated, she opted to give it right back to him. 

“Guess, you didn’t find the big black one…”

Romans expression quickly fell and he didn’t look as amused as she was, but after he noted the upturn of her lips, he shook his head and finally answered her question.

"I did extensive research on you after we met. I know all about that fight with you and Olivia Danvers when you were sixteen and you’ve got one hell of a right hook.” Belladonna smirked a little bit at the memory. “It’s clear that you could have been valedictorian if not for that D on your senior chemistry final and your Spanish class, Eso no es bueno, ángel.” 

Roman knowing Spanish wasn’t surprising but then it kind of was, he wasn’t stupid, no, Roman had proved time and time again that he was highly intelligent. But it just seemed such a… frivolous thing, to speak another language, like, it was such a normal thing, for normal people. But she quickly reminded herself that was stupid. Belladonna herself was trilingual, adding Greek, Italian, and Latin to her repertoire. 

“I know how you switched majors halfway through college from business management to photography and graphic design even though you can’t really stand either one and I know all about the attack last year,” His tone dropped at the mention of her attack and he offered no particular insights on it. “But no one’s perfect, because despite how deep I dug, I somehow missed that little tidbit." Roman admitted with a hint of annoyance. "But Daisy clued me in after I sweet-talked it out of her."

Yeah, Daisy, that sounded about right. It wasn’t exactly privileged information, and she had no doubt there wasn’t much Roman couldn't sweet talk Daisy out of.

"I was diagnosed after the attack last year. It was hard to want to eat anything, didn’t sleep much." Belladonna said, "Guess I should thank you," 

His cocky demeanor returned in full force as sat up and he scooted closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “But how will you thank me?” 

“Don’t get cocky, you’re still in la casita del perro in my book, you’ll be lucky if you get another kiss.”

Roman chuckled, undeterred, seeing her challenge as an invitation. He closed the distance between them, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered seductively, “Oh, really?”

"I can be very persuasive. And it seems to be working." Their lips barely brushed, a tantalizing tease of what could be. "Admit it, you've wanted to kiss me since the moment I rode in on my dark horse, saving the day that night in the back of my club with Jimmy."

That was certainly one way to put their meeting, if not a little skewed, it almost sounded romantic, and she couldn't resist teasing him. With a playful smirk, she grabbed his chin and planted a simple kiss, it wasn’t what he wanted, she knew that but he’d already shut her down when she was practically climbing on top of him. 

"Is that all I get?" he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"You'll get what I give you, and you'll like it.”

The door to the bedroom swung open and the scent of spicy Thai food quickly filled the air, mingling with the lingering tension between Roman and Belladonna. Zsasz strode into the room carrying takeout bags in both hands. He seemed to have returned faster than expected, much to Roman’s dismay, but then again, Zsasz was more often than not, more punctual than a Swiss watch. It also helped that he cut quite the intimidating figure and Belladonna wouldn’t have been surprised if people had jumped out of line upon seeing him.

“Cockblocked by the doctor's orders… and Thai food.” 

Roman grumbled, finally tearing his gaze away from Belladonna and taking the food from Zsasz. A flicker of warmth flashed across Zsasz's usually cold eyes as he handed over the bags to Roman. It was a brief, unexpected moment that caught Belladonna off guard. Then with a curt nod that carried an unusual ease to it, Zsasz took a bag and disappeared. Was she beginning to grow on him?

Roman settled back onto the bed and produced several takeout boxes with enticing aromas that could only come from a yāy’s soulful cooking. Bold spices, succulent roasted meats, and hints of coconut. He handed her one box filled with Thai green chicken curry and rice, and another containing papaya salad. To her surprise, there was even a small container of mango sticky rice for dessert. She didn't bother asking how he knew her favorite dishes; his answer would probably involve some vague explanation about being "all-knowing." 

As they ate, she watched Roman open his own container of Thai basil chicken, captivated by the movement of his jaw as he chewed, before drifting to Roman's strong hands, deftly maneuvering the chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken. She had seen those same hands clenched in anger, and wrapped around a gun with deadly precision. Yet, here they were, sharing a simple meal together. Life was certainly dealing her some strange cards lately.

Here she was in Romans bed, after having briefly been held hostage in her own apartment, and being saved by her own knight on a dark horse, as he had dubbed himself. Eating Thai food, like any normal couple might, Roman lounging in a casual manner that Belladonna had never seen before using chopsticks like a pro. He seemed more like just a man eating Thai food with her than the dangerous figure she knew him to be.

"So, no Netflix?" 

"The beds for sleeping, not Netflix," Roman replied playfully, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You should be glad I'm letting you eat in my bed at all."

“You don’t ever eat in bed?

"No," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I eat at a table like a civilized criminal." His tone was light, teasing even, and Belladonna couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. Was he making an honest joke? No dark undertones? Guess there was a first for everything.

“The only thing that gets eaten in this bed is pussy.” There it was. He couldn’t let it go, but a sex joke was better than a dark one, she supposed.

Belladonna glanced down at her box, a vibrant array of colorful vegetables and steaming rice accompanying the spicy chicken that filled her senses with a mixture of comfort and warmth. She hesitated for a moment before looking up to meet Roman's unwavering gaze. The dim lighting of his bedroom cast shadows across his chiseled features, accentuating the intensity behind his dark eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really know you," she admitted, her voice laced with vulnerability. It was a thought that had been gnawing at her ever since they'd gotten involved with each other – an unsettling feeling that there was always more beneath the surface. “You’re like a puzzle with no picture.”

A smug grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, I'm a puzzle, am I?" he asked, the playful tone in his voice belying the weight of her words. "How many pieces? I'm at least 10,000 pieces."

Belladonna couldn't help but smile at his lighthearted response, even as the unease continued to churn within her. As much as she wanted to believe that she could understand him, she knew deep down that there were aspects of his life that she never would.

"More like a Rubik's star cube," Belladonna countered, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she looked at Roman.

Roman raised an eyebrow, clearly appreciating the challenge. "Ah, one of those, huh? Well, I suppose that makes me even more intriguing."

"Alright, then," Roman said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "Why don't you ask me something? Anything you want. Consider it your first move in solving this puzzle."

"It’s all just games to you, isn’t it?"

"Trust me, angel. I never play games with what's mine," he replied, his gaze never wavering from hers.

"Yours?" she echoed, feeling both a sense of belonging and unease at his words.

"Undeniably," 

——

The concept of moonlight illuminating a sleeping lovers form while they slept was bullshit, stupid and cliche. So was the idea of longingly looking at them, as if moonlight was a magic highlighter that drew attention to all the details that you never noticed before. 

He always thought the moonlight at night thing only worked because the person you were looking at had finally shut up. He didn’t need the magic of a planet fragment reflecting light to draw his eye to Belladonna's hourglass form, he didn’t need it to draw his attention to the swell of her hips, the full lips he wanted to taste, that long black hair he wanted to use to direct her, or the curve of her breasts he wanted to touch. No, he could appreciate those things in broad daylight, the low light of his club or the artificial light of her studio while she worked. 

But that’s exactly what Roman was doing

Fuck it, the moonlight was doing its job, casting that magical soft glow on Belladonna's peaceful face as she slept. And Roman lay next to her, wide awake, his dark eyes studying her delicate features. It was the first time he'd ever allowed a woman to share his bed without sex being involved, and strangely enough, he found himself not minding much. People were interesting to watch when they slept, Belladonna, for instance, was lying on her side with one arm embracing her pillow and her knees slightly drawn up towards her chest. It wasn't quite the fetal position, but she wasn't sprawling out either, and Roman couldn't blame her. She didn’t sprawl out and take up more of the bed than she should, didn’t hog the blankets leaving him to freeze his ass off, and she wasn’t one of those types who tried to suffocate him by clinging to him like a lovesick teenager. 

That wasn’t Belladonna though. 

Roman's interests were about as varied as the weather, but he always found the way people slept to be fascinating. It was like a secret language they couldn’t help but speak. Belladonna's sleeping habits, in particular, caught his attention. They suggested she was guarded and lacked a sense of security or comfort.

As for Roman himself, he usually slept on his back with his arms at his sides. He didn’t move around much unless he was really stressed. Occasionally, he might flop onto his stomach and bury his head in the pillow, but that was rare. He didn’t like how exposed he felt sleeping on his stomach, even if it was comfy as hell.

As for Zsasz, well, he had never seen Zsasz sleep but he was fairly certain if Zsasz slept at all, he slept like a vampire and he hadn’t ruled out the possibility of a coffin.

The whole situation was an odd one for him. Sure he’d let women sleep in his bed but more often than not it was only because he was too tired to kick them out right away. He’d let them sleep and then send them on their way to that glorious walk of shame home, in the clothes they’d worn the night before, covered in the marks he’d left on them, both seen and unseen. And really, even if he was tired, he would have much rather they leave as soon as he was done with them. His only real motivating factor behind letting them stay was the possibility of a morning blowjob. What man didn’t love waking up and having his dick sucked before breakfast?

His late-night musings were interrupted by a quiet presence at the door, Zsasz lingered just outside the room, he gave Roman a nod and Roman slipped from the bed's warmth. 

"Got something."

Roman followed Zsasz to his study, where they reviewed the security footage from Belladonna's loft. The screen flickered to life, revealing Cobblepot's arrival and the entire conversation between him and Belladonna. Roman clenched his jaw, anger simmering beneath the surface. 

It was the first time he’d watched the footage and it was just as she’d said earlier and although it infuriated him, he had to admit; he’d never been more impressed by a woman. Her voice hardly shook but he could hear it, there were no tears and she wasn’t frantic when she put the phone down after a finally failed attempt at reaching Roman. His lip twitched in a sneer when he thought of how many times she’d tried calling him and how calm she’d been throughout the whole thing and in a rare moment, he felt like shit. 

He’d told her he’d take care of her so long as she was with him and he didn’t. In fact, he’d acted like some shithead teenager. It angered him but not as much as the moment Cobblepot offered a bullshit apology to Belladonna before directing one of his men to shoot her in the chest as opposed to the back of her head. Even still, she didn’t move, she didn’t cower, didn’t plead, didn’t cry. Nothing. 

Solid as a statue, only closing her eyes. He knew grown men who wouldn’t have handled having a gun pointed at them half as well as she had. 

"Reach out to Cobblepot's associates," he instructed Zsasz, his voice cold and controlled. As much as he didn’t like Cobblepot he wasn’t so stupid as to go on the warpath. "Set up a formal sit-down. No more surprise visits from him, I need to know how he's connected to all this and how Jimmy came to have his stuff if he didn’t work for him."

He didn’t much like Cobblepot but it would be idiotic to make him an enemy rather than a strained acquaintance. 

"Arrange for new security measures at her loft, after it’s been cleared," Roman ordered, dismissing Zsasz's unspoken concerns. "She'll stay with me until everything is in place. Did you call the shoppers?” Zsasz nodded, “Good, make sure she has whatever she needs."

As Roman contemplated their situation, he found himself recalling the myth of Hades and Persephone—a tale that seemed to mirror his own relationship with Belladonna. 

"Who is our Demeter?" he muttered, leaving Zsasz slightly confused, but not surprised. Roman often spoke in cryptic references that made sense only to him. 

"Been keeping tabs on her father like you asked. Doesn't seem like he's actively involved in any major schemes anymore. Looks like he's content living off the family fortune," Zsasz reported, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I found something interesting while I was looking into him.  Belladonna is the only heir to the family estate, assuming her father doesn’t blow it all. And he doesn’t seem too keen on her having much of it to herself based on the stipulations required for her to get access to her inheritance." Roman's interest piqued at the mention of Belladonna's wealth.

"She's entitled to half the estate according to her grandfather's will. However, her share is currently tied up due to certain conditions she hasn't fulfilled yet."

"What conditions?" Roman inquired, intrigued by the complexity of the situation.

"There are two options. Either her father passes away under circumstances deemed non-suspicious, and the inheritance is released once the investigation is concluded," Zsasz explained. 

Roman smirked, that could certainly be arranged.

"Or she ties the knot." Zsasz's voice held a hint of amusement. "In that case, the money essentially falls under her husband's control, to be distributed at his discretion."

Roman's eyes narrowed with disdain. "So her fortune hinges on marriage. How... quaint."

“Tale as old as time.”

“Pathetic.” Roman shook his head at the man's manipulations. "I'll pay him a visit soon enough. What about her mother, what did you find?"

"Maria Lopez," Zsasz announced, handing Roman a medical file. 

Roman pulled a confused face, that wasn’t her mothers’ name. It was Caruso, not Lopez. 

“She's tucked away in a top-tier facility in Metropolis, specifically tailored for clients grappling with significant trauma." Zsasz made air quotes around the term 'significant trauma,' his tone dripping with skepticism. 

“Why Metropolis?” Zsasz shrugged.

“Probably because it's not in Gotham. Makes her harder to find, especially if Belladonna was trying to keep a low profile.” 

Roman nodded for Zsasz to continue as he looked through Maria’s file. He didn’t ask Zsasz how he got ahold of privileged medical records; some things were better left unsaid. But based on what Roman was looking at, it was all doctored up and as authentic as a spring breakers driver's license.

"The alias is completely disconnected from anyone in Belladonna's family,”

“Who pays for it?” Roman asked, his voice low and tense as he looked at Maria's photograph, fixated on the sorrowful expression in her gaze. 

She looked nothing like the woman he had imagined; she appeared exhausted, fragile, and hollow inside, though the resemblance was striking. Belladonna got her looks from her mother, no doubt. He suddenly understood how bad of a situation Maria must have found herself in as a young immigrant worker to a man like Benjamin Syrus Black. The predatory nature of it disgusted him, her mother was sixteen when she’d become pregnant with Belladonna, barely a woman. Not even a woman by his standards. 

“A numbered bank account. Easy enough to set up, probably had a lawyer do it."

"So, no paper trail leading back to her old man. Jesus. No wonder Belladonna couldn't track her down," 

Roman remarked with a hint of disdain. The records spoke of years of physical trauma as well as several psychiatric conditions ranging from bipolar disorder to schizophrenia. He threw the file onto the table, sending papers scattering across the surface. 

“This reads like a dossier of Arkham's most dangerous inmates; bi-polar disorder, paranoid schizophrenia, dementia, dissociative identity disorder, psychotic depression, PTSD,” 

Roman looked back and forth from several documents but he seemed to be studying their headers, logos and signatures as much as he was reading the diagnosis and treatment history. It was a chaotic mess. 

“These diagnoses contradict each other. Bet money no one was paying attention when she was admitted." 

"Even if she somehow found her mother now, there's no way she could get her released, probably wouldn’t even be allowed to visit her."

Zsasz nodded grimly in agreement. "But on the bright side, this gives us leverage over whoever is treating her. If they want to keep this quiet, they won’t involve the police." A sly smile spread across Roman's face.

Roman smirked at Zsasz, “Maybe they just need a good scare.”

“Pain is scary,” Zsasz said with a smile.

"We'll need to take a trip to Metropolis soon. But before we do, make sure you dig up every detail possible on the doctors in charge of her care and anyone involved in her admission. I want it all. I won't tolerate any more surprises." 

Zsasz nodded, “Got it.”

“I’m going to bed.” His voice dripped with deadly intent as he tossed the file back onto the desk and turned, stalking off toward his bedroom.

Roman crawled back into his bed and looked over to the side he usually slept on, Belladonna had her back to him, she had rolled over in her sleep and he found himself staring at a scar on her back. Long and jagged, one that had taken over thirty sutures to close, his lip curled up when he thought about how it got there. The tip of his finger had barely brushed against her skin when she turned over and curled closer to him, not close enough to nestle in his arms but close enough he could leisurely touch her, his hand slipped from her shoulder down the curve of her side before settling on her hip. She made a little noise of contentment and scooted a bit closer. Stans words to him played over in his head as sleepiness began to gently tug at him.

“She could be good for, Roman,”

Roman just smirked, shook his head then pulled his hand away and folded his pillow over, eventually drifting off to sleep.

—-

Belladonna slowly blinked awake, the cool space beside her a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. This time, when she woke up in Roman’s bed she felt no panic, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well. Sure, she wouldn’t have minded staying in bed, rolling over, and going back to sleep but the sunlight streaming in from the window made that hard. She sat up and stretched, disentangling the sheets that had twisted around her legs, searching the room for any trace of Roman.

The faint sound of running water drew her towards the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. With careful steps, she approached, peeking inside to find Roman at the sink. He stood tall, only a black towel wrapped around his waist, traces of shaving cream on his jawline as he focused on his steam-framed reflection.

She held her breath, captivated by the oddly domestic sight of Roman. Despite their closeness, she had never seen him so undressed, always shrouded in mystery and tailored suits. His broad muscular back bore was a blank canvas, surprisingly devoid of tattoos, she hadn’t exactly expected any as they didn't seem like they fit his personality. She only saw maybe two faded scars, one looked like a knife wound and another maybe a bullet, he certainly wasn’t covered in them like Zsasz was. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on the edge of the towel, if only he wasn’t so paranoid...

"Roman had me get some things for you for work," Zsasz's voice broke the moment as he entered with a garment bag. Startled, Belladonna jumped with a startled gasp and stepped back, feeling a flush of embarrassment. But it was too late, when she changed a glance over her shoulder Roman met her gaze with a smirk and a freshly shaven face. 

A knowing grin playing on his lips. Her heart quickened, realizing she had been caught off guard, a rarity she tried to avoid.

“Time for work angel,”

Fifteen

---

Little R&R Roman style? I know, I'm a tease... Sorry guys, stay tuned the spice is coming soon...!

@keffirinne @daenerys-skywalker @supernatural-lover

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #original character #alternate universe #roman sionis smut #roman sionis imagine #romansionis #roman sionis fan fiction #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis #black mask #black mask imagine #romansionissmut #romansionisimagine #romansionisblackmask #romansionisfanfiction #blackmaskimagine #black mask fanfiction #belladonna fucking black #belladonna black #shadows of deception #blackmasksmut #blackmaskfanfiction #dc #dc fandom #dc birds of prey #dc comics #dc universe

[thegreatwicked]

Shoutout to @keffirinne for being such a badass and blinging my Roman Sionis story Shadows of Deception and leaving me such nice reblogs! You make my morning every time I see them! And if you guys are a fan of Roman Sionis stories head to her profile and checkout her stuff! It is… MMM chefs kiss!

She’s got our boy so well written I get chills every time I read a new chapter!

#romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis is a brat #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis x reader #go check out this writer #fanfiction is life

[thegreatwicked]

Hi fellow Black Mask enthusiast :)

First of all, I love your fic "shadows of deceptions". So, few questions, will you be posting more chapters? And do you plan to write something else about Roman as well?

I'm always happy to read 🖤

Thanks and wish you all the best

Thank you! I’m having a blast righting it and honestly it feels like this thing writes itself sometimes! The story is up to eight chapters and I’m working on the next one, so yes! There will be more! Roman and Belladonnas story is FAR from over!! And yes I will be writing more Roman/Black Mask stuff!! How can I not??? I have a BAD case of simping for the bad guy…

#romansionissmut #romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis is a brat #roman sionis is a tease #roman sionis fan fiction #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis smut #roman sionis #blackmaskimagine #blackmasksmut #blackmaskfanfiction #black mask fanfiction #black mask imagine #belladonna black #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter One

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Notes: Yes, I do know Roman Sionis is a bad guy. No, I do not care. Yes, I am absolutely simping over Evan McGreggors portrayal. Setting is not quite the Birds of Prey universe but Roman is definitely a criminal but not quite a sadistic crime lord like he is in the comics. Doni favor one shots? Yes I do, but this would be perhaps the longest one shot in history so it will be a chaptered story. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters.

Final Note: This story is not meant for minors, you alone are responsible for what you consume on the internet. Minors DNI. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted elsewhere but please feel free to reblog.

Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

The night was supposed to start with a slinky dress that hadn’t seen a night out in months, some overpriced drinks that could be made for cheaper at home and end what she had hoped to be a memorable, hot and very irresponsible one night stand with the first gorgeous stranger she clicked with. She wasn’t looking for Mr. Right, just Mr. Tonight. The worst she expected was a bad DJ, a disappointing romp in the sack and a hangover. Instead it ended with gunshots, the smell of sulfur, threats of torture and several dead bodies at her feet.

It wasn’t like she’d snuck beyond the door for ‘employees only’ because she was looking for some fun. Hardly, she was just trying to disappear from a creep who thought he was hotter than he was. He’d followed her from one end of the bar to the other insisting on buying her drinks. She turned him down each time and she wasn’t subtle or polite about it. No vague “I’m waiting on friends” or “I’m not really thirsty” she told him to his face multiple times that she’d rather die of thirst than to take any drink he offered, but it didn’t deter him at all. He was the type of guy who was a few years older than he let on, wore cologne to hide the fact that he was too lazy to shower before going out and probably couldn’t find the clitoris with both hands and a map. There wasn’t a suit nice enough to cover the cringe nor was there enough liquor in the universe.

Wherever she went, he had followed. If she were on the dance floor somehow he found her, hiding in the bathroom? He was right outside. She had been dying for a smoke but there was no way in hell she was going outside where he could corner her. And he’d made it only too clear on what he’d been interested in when she decided to ditch him for good. Sure, she shouldn’t have been there but she just wanted to lose the guy. The back of the house seemed as good an option as any.

The door didn’t have a lock, it was a simple handle and it only took her a split second to slip past it. A quick but maybe not the best decision but she didn’t have a ton of options. Rejecting a man was dangerous at the best of times and she was alone in a club in a wealthy part of town where a cosmo cost nearly twenty dollars. But a man where it hurts; his dick or his wallet and no telling what these types would do.

The door had no windows so she couldn’t tell if he was right behind her but she instead decided on rounding a corner just in case he stuck his head in. Maybe it would have been better if she’d just kneed him in the crotch and run like hell. The closest corner to duck behind was at the end of a fairly long hall leading to a storage area. Her high heels clutched firmly in her hand as she ran barefoot down the corridor to avoid making any noise. It worked a little too well, unfortunately and not in any way that benefited her in the long run.

Several seconds of silence passed as she glanced back down the hall sticking out as little as possible with only the sound of her slightly hurried breathing. No sign of the guy, several seconds turned into a few minutes of dead silence but something about it was wrong, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and as soon as she turned around, the reason became clear. That horrible cold sensation ran down her back and settled in the pit of her stomach.

Shit.

Whatever she walked in on, she wasn't meant to see, and the three men there were just as surprised to see her. Two guys looked like laborers and their expressions went from shock to anger very quickly. One pulled out a box cutter, the other reached for a length of pipe. The last one to turn and face her set off every internal alarm she had, everything about him was bad.

From his ill fitted suit to his greasy slicked back hair to the hand gun in his waistband.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

He shook his head as he stepped towards her, he couldn’t pull off a sympathetic look if his life depended on it. Shame, because hers did.

“Bad timing lady…”

“You’re telling me.” Her voice was hardly a whisper and the words hadn’t left her lips when she dropped her shoes and turned to bolt back the way she came. Shouts followed her, and the sound of heavy boots and shoes on the ground echoed loudly.

She had no idea where she was and in her panic, the simple hall back to the club's main floor had been erased from her memory. She took several turns hoping to run into anyone but also dreading running into anyone, she had no idea if those men were the only ones who would be after her.

The sound of shoes faded and she chanced a look back but saw no one, her furious heartbeat hammered in her chest. She was alone.

Maybe they’d gotten scared and run off, afraid of being discovered while pursuing her.

Time to go home.

It would have been a great idea if she hadn’t turned another corner and walked into a solid mass of man. Rough hands grabbed at her arms and pulled her back down the hall. She shrieked and flailed, kicking her legs out, not knowing or seeing all that well what she was aiming for. Panic flooded her chest as her fight or flight kicked into overdrive.

A hand quickly clamped over her mouth as she was dragged back down the corridor kicking and trying to break the iron grip on her arms. Not that she thought anyone could honestly hear her, the music was muffled from the main dance floor which gave her little chance of being heard.

The guy in the suit was waiting for her, and he looked pissed. He leaned against a table with plastic bags of powder spread on it and a briefcase of cash in plain view. She was no narcotics cop but she knew drugs when she saw them.

She flew like a rag doll against a wall with such force that knocked the wind right out of her. Her lungs clawed for air trying to catch up with what had just happened. As quickly as she scrambled back into a sitting position and managed to get a breath in, he was standing there.

One thumb tucked into his pocket looking down at her like a disappointed parent. He was the type of guy who liked looking down on people but was probably too low on the totem pole to get to do it too often. He wore gold jewelry and not in a tasteful way, gold rings, gold watch, gold chain necklace. From a distance he could have just been a guy in a bad suit, up close he looked like an extra from the movie the Goodfellas or a Mr. T reject.

His smile was very off putting because it wasn’t a real smile. “Should have stuck to the dance floor.” There was only one door that she could reach and it was an emergency exit. The way she had come in was blocked by the two men. He watched her eyes flicker to the emergency exit and shook his head and actually gave an audible tsk, tsk, tsk. When the exit wasn’t an option she frantically searched the room for something, anything. “You know, if a sign says employees only, maybe you should stay on the other side of the door it’s on.”

He probably thought he had the upper hand, thought she was too scared to do anything or try anything, she was scared shitless but not enough to do nothing. The two men behind him chuckled and he turned to nod to them. She had seen the gun on his waistband, and before she realized exactly what she was doing, her arm shot out and miraculously found purchase with the cold steel of the grip. She jerked her hand back, the gun went off and an odd sense of disassociation came over her.

The room smelled like sulfur and the barrel was smoking and in an instant she had somehow managed to fire off three shots. The suit monkey in front of her was on his back clutching his side, blood flowing from where she had just shot him, looking up at her in disbelief.

His accomplices couldn’t be of much help, one bullet struck one man in the leg just below the knee, the other in the hip.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

Fight had turned to flight and as quickly as she could, she made a dash for the way she’d come in and again, ran into another hard body.

This guy was different. He wasn’t like the other men, a grip of steel shot out and grabbed the gun that had still been clutched in her hand, aiming towards the ceiling away from any potential targets. Another shot went off before it was wrenched from her hand, she yelped. Another arm wrapped itself over her chest, keeping her from getting away.

“What in the fuck is this?” The voice was angry and dangerous and when he called out to someone else she realized he wasn’t alone. “Take this.” His other arm now free of the gun kept her caged against his body and she had even less room to maneuver. “For fucks sake, stop struggling already!” He tossed her to the ground into a corner, her head smacking against the cinderblock wall.

“Looks like quite the party back here.” Another voice, and something mechanical sounding, the gun. “Well, she won’t be winning any marksman competitions anytime soon but three out of four isn’t bad.” It must have been the little birdies and stars dancing around her head but there was an air of lightheartedness to his voice and she couldn’t tell if it was comforting or concerning. Things either weren’t as bad as they seemed or they were far worse.

“Jesus Christ, look at this mess…” The first man sounded less angry now and more likely he was inconvenienced, like he was running late to a meeting. “What’s going on here, Jimmy?”

Jimmy, the guy she shot? Yeah, he looked like a Jimmy, he was bleeding out but despite that, he didn’t look even remotely concerned until the guy in the suit spoke to him and only then he looked up at him with a look of fear in his eyes. Like his greatest nightmare had stepped out of his subconscious. He tried to choke out words but nothing short of a garbled response was audible.

“Uh, boss?”

“What is it, Zsasz?” Zsasz? What the hell kind of name was that? Sounded like a cult leader.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

“What could possibly be worse than-“ he stopped dead and his body stilled in a concerning way. The man he’d called Zsasz, who she could finally see properly now was standing next to the table holding up a white bag. “Fuck!”

“Looks like Cobblepots branding. Picking up some side work, Jimmy?” Zsasz looked at Jimmy with pure disgust and tossed a bag to his boss, he caught it easily and examined the packet. His brow furrowed in anger and the corner of his lips turned into a snarl.

“Cobblepot?” He growled, his voice now sounding positively feral. She had no idea who these men were or what exactly was going on but she knew the name Cobblepot. Everyone knew that name. Oswald Cobblepot, drug dealer, arms supplier, owner of the Iceberg Lounge, overall a well known name in Gotham, not a man to cross. Suddenly her presence wasn’t the biggest issue in the room but the situation had gotten even more dangerous.

He stalked over to her and held the bag's contents in his gloved hand and looked down at her. Several tense moments passed, his face gave little away in terms of what he was thinking. Maybe he was trying to decide if it was more trouble to kill her, pay her to be quiet or count on fear to keep her silent. Maybe he was trying to decide where to dump her body.

“Know what this is?”

Yeah, it was probably drugs but she couldn't be more specific and she didn't want to give the impression that she knew more than she did, so she shook her head.

“No.” Something about how he spoke and looked at her gave her the impression that he preferred words to gestures. She shouldn’t have been concerned with it but now that she could see him better it was hard to ignore. He was gorgeous. Eccentric but gorgeous. Black pinstripe suit with silver accents that were giving her hard core Liberace vibes. Dark hair styled perfectly, not slicked back like the suit monkey and he was wearing rose tinted glasses. The look worked for him but the irritated look on his face was kind of spoiling the whole thing for her.

He looked to Zsasz and then back to her. She was probably much prettier when she wasn’t terrified. She reminded him of a cornered mouse. “What’s your name?” His tone was flat and uninterested.

“Belladonna Black.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking but it was difficult.

“Why are you in the back of my club?” A terrible weight dropped in her stomach and the cold feeling raced up her back.The kind you get when your body is trying to tell you that you’re in deep shit. His club? This was Roman Sionis. He was usually in the tabloids, known for having a volatile temper and little patience and extravagant tastes, now the suit and glasses made sense.

It took a minute for her lips to form words, suddenly dealing with a creepy guy wasn’t so bad compared to this. “I was trying to lose a guy in the club, I just ducked back here long enough to ditch him.”

He didn’t seem very impressed with her reasoning but he also didn’t seem like he didn’t believe her. “And it looks like you walked in on something that you weren’t supposed to see. Well, that’s unfortunate… Maybe you should have found a bouncer instead.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Boss?” Zsasz held out a smartphone to Roman, he looked at the phone and watched carefully, the audio was loud enough for her to recognize her own voice and the sounds of running and struggle.

Zsasz watched her with an expression that said he definitely had a plan to kill her and dispose of the body or knew the right drug to give her to make her forget this while night had happened, he was just waiting on word and that he didn’t particularly care which one happened. Zsasz was one of the most intimidating men she’d ever seen, if his stone cold sociopathic expression didn’t do it, the dozens of scars across his arms and chest as well as neck did. He had scars like most men had tattoos. His gaze was icy, suggesting that the workings of his mind were very pragmatic and matter of fact. Meanwhile Roman seemed to be having a debate in his head. He handed the phone back to Zsasz and shoved his hands in his pockets and with a tilt of his head he studied her.

“Well, look at that Angel? Looks like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing could be more innocent.” His emphasis on the word innocent suggested he believed in the concept about as much as unicorns.

“Kill the feed.” Zsasz nodded and tapped away at the phone. “Don’t move.” He warned in a low growl then turned and walked back to Jimmy and his two men. He didn’t walk, no he stalked towards them placing a leather Italian shoe on Jimmy’s bleeding side. Jimmy half groaned, half yelped loudly, she suddenly felt kind of bad for him. “Dealing for Cobblepot in my own club…” He ran a hand through his hair before holding his hand out to Zsasz, and Zsasz gave him the gun back. “I warned you, Jimmy.” She watched as he racked a round into the chamber and fired three shots in rapid succession. Jimmy stopped moving. “I’m afraid it’s not going to work out, Jimmy.” He then fired two shots into each of the men at the door and once more he handed the gun back to Zsasz. “Make the call.”

“What about her?” She was pale, eyes transfixed on the scene before her, somehow unable to move, too in shock to speak.

“Oh,” Now he sounded like someone had told him he couldn’t leave the table until his dinner was done. Like an annoyed teenager. She didn’t scream which was probably the only reason she too didn’t have a bullet in her head, or because he used them all on Jimmy and his friends. He looked around and shrugged before stepping forward taking off his rose tinted glasses. He looked her up and down now. His gaze leisurely and predatory at the same time, it gave her chills.

It seemed like he was making a mental list of pros and cons, he paced back and forth for a minute. Zsasz kept looking at her like a guard dog waiting to be let off his leash. She didn’t need to be told that the only thing holding him back from turning her into confetti was the word from Roman. “Fuck!” He groaned, “These decisions are always easier when they’re ugly…” He complained to Zsasz. Was that a compliment?

His hand again, found its way combing through his hair making a mess of the styled locks before straightening his suit collar then he finally turned to look at her.

“Clean up crew is on the way, three or four?”

“Three’s plenty. Four's a crowd.” She let out a breath in relief. It seemed like he didn’t plan on killing her. Not yet anyway. “It’s your lucky night, Angel.”

His entire demeanor changed as flashed a smile that under normal circumstances would make her swoon. It was shocking, this sudden 180 he pulled. Jesus, if not for the dead bodies and the fact that she’d just seen him shoot three people she just might be falling under his spell.

Zsasz leaned in as Roman muttered something to him. Then Zsasz nodded and walked away quickly, leaving the two of them alone. Roman offered a leather clad hand to help her up, she hesitated at first but eventually took his hand and got to her feet.

“Zsasz is going to take you home and you’re going to behave for him. You’re going to keep that pretty mouth shut about what you saw here tonight, you’re not going to say a word to anyone. Not even your cat, understand, Angel?”

“You’re letting me go?”

“For now.” He paused, “Don't misread the situation here, you’ve been a naughty girl, sneaking around here. And I should put a bullet in your head and dump you into Gotham Bay,” he uttered the last sentence with considerable venom. She shrunk back slightly but couldn’t go far as Roman was still holding onto her hand. “But I’m feeling generous tonight, as without you here I might not have found out about this disloyal employee.” He leaned in closer now, barely a breath away. “ If you speak a word of this to anyone I’ll have Zsasz string you up and slice that pretty face of yours off like a discount Halloween mask. Understand?” She nodded shakily, “Say the words, Angel.”

“I understand.”

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.” She wished her voice hadn’t come off so weak sounding but it felt like she was walking on a glass bridge that could shatter at any minute with the wrong step.

“Good girl.”

People should have warning signs around their necks, warning the public of their idiotic behavior. Belladonna’s would read ‘Do not allow to ingest tequila.’ Vodka left her feeling light and floaty, gin reminded her of seltzer water; annoyingly bland. And rum of course brought out her inner stripper, like it did for most women, everyone has a drink that does that to them. Tequila was the one that left her feeling like she’d gone five rounds in a boxing ring. Laying in her bed, with sunlight streaming through her window, she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head and immediately regretted it. The back of her head was throbbing, odd, Tequila usually left her with an all over headache, not one specific spot. Her hand threaded through her hair to ease the ache and froze when it found a considerable lump on the back of her head, she shot up in bed, sunlight be damned and felt that cold feeling again. She didn’t drink last night.

Then last night drifted into her memory, the smell of sulfur and blood, the sound of gunshots, and the feeling of being trapped. Black leather gloves. Roman Sionis. She felt like throwing up.

Then she did. Barely made it to the trashcan in time.

Her apartment was blissfully empty and nothing seemed out of place. The cold water she guzzled did little to get rid of the taste of bile in her mouth, so the first order was brushing her teeth and then maybe some more panic.

She hadn’t had anything to drink last night but she still felt hungover, could a traumatic experience do that? A quick google search suggested it wasn’t impossible and that if she felt sick then to treat it as such, but a quick inventory of her medicine cabinet found that she was seriously lacking in aspirin. If she wasn’t drunk last night, she had every intention of drinking herself stupid tonight.

But she didn’t want to leave her apartment, not after what happened. She found herself pacing her living room for the better part of the morning, uncertain of what to do. She remembered Roman's warning.

“If you speak a word of this to anyone I’ll have Zsasz string you up and slice that pretty face of yours off like a discount Halloween mask.”

On the bright side, she didn’t have a cat. She wondered why she didn’t just do what most women her age did; stay in, drink wine and watch violent slashers. Her stomach churned, maybe not a slasher, but she didn’t like romcoms, right, so documentaries it was. The urge to throw up wasn’t far behind, but there was nothing to throw up.

A quick check of her phone saw the time creeping up close to eleven, she remembered Zsasz dropping her off at her apartment around three but she wasn’t sure how long the whole thing behind the club had taken. Had she only been asleep eight hours? Could that be right? Her phone had no text messages or missed calls and the date told her it was only Saturday, so it wasn't like she’d slept all day. Christ.

Her head was pounding. There was a bodega a block away from her place, she could run in, grab some aspirin, bagels and something to drink and be good until Monday when she had work. The guy who ran the bodega was a nice old guy who she was fairly certain only spoke Korean, either way, all her past interactions suggested that he wasn’t likely to start chatting with her over hangover remedies. She nodded slowly to herself. Yeah, that was it, she’d grab some things and be done with it and get home. No harm, no foul.

Yeah, she could do this.

She grabbed her purse and slipped on some ripped jeans, a Gotham City Rogues t-shirt and some old sneakers. Throwing her hair into a messy bun and grabbing her cropped leather jacket, she didn't mean to look like she was going to start a girl rock revolution but figured she’d blend in and be just another face in the Saturday crowd. She locked her door behind her and tried to stay focused on getting to the bodega and back again without incident.

It was all fine and well until she hit the street, then the sounds of the city hit her like finding out she left the volume turned up on her headphones. She jumped as a taxi rushed past her like some kind of tourist, cringe. Then she remembered her headphones were actually in her jacket pocket, she wasn’t planning on listening to any music, but just to use them to drown out the ambient noise that she usually loved.

It was a quick brisk walk over to the shop oddly called Ernies, even though the guy who owned it was Korean, or Vietnamese, she wasn’t sure. But today was not the day to find out. Belladonna had been, at one point comfortable enough in this city to walk barefoot in it but now, every movement startled her, every car backfiring sounded like a gunshot and every person casually looking her way put her on edge. Several times she could have sworn she saw Roman Sionis or Zsasz watching her but they always turned out to be just some wall street guy in a suit or some random buff guy in a wifebeater. They smiled and winked at her which she never returned on a good day, but it was oddly comforting this time, as she didn’t think Zsasz and Roman to be the smiling and winking type.

The familiar bell over the door was comforting and as soon as she stepped into the bodega it felt like she stepped into a hug. There was a hot bar that always had hot dogs and asian finger foods that she never tried before and the smell of the foods made her briefly forget why she had come in, in the first place. It was only when she reached up to scratch her head that she remembered the aspirin.

Fifteen minutes later she had a basket with a few drinks, aspirin, fresh bagels, and a bag of m&ms. She decided to pass on the bottle of wine.

She jumped when someone spoke over her shoulder, and she tried not to panic when she saw two police officers.

“Man, I love these things!”

“What the hell are they?”

“They’re called bao, like a steamed bun with beef and onions inside. I could eat a hundred of them!”

They weren’t talking to her, just talking around her, but the information and her current situation gave her the push to try something new. She asked for two of them while the cops behind her continued on with their conversation about what awas superior foreign food or good old fashioned american hot dogs.

The guy who ran the shop gave her his usual wordless smile and she left with her two reusable bags. No conversation, no questions, no comments, and she was a ten minute walk from the safety of her apartment.

The sounds of the traffic had died down enough or she had calmed herself to the degree that they didn’t startle her anymore. She was herself again within the span of that short walk. She’d even reached into one of her bags for the fresh hot bao she’d just purchased, its smell calling to her empty stomach. It didn’t last two minutes, she hadn’t eaten since dinner last night before she went out and she was suddenly wishing she’d bout a dozen of them.

It was savory and hot and hit a spot she didn’t know she’d had, and by the time she got to her building she was even smiling.

Her door was still locked as she had left it but her sense of relief vaporized in an instant when on her coffee table she saw something that made her stomach turn. Something that hadn’t been there.

A pair of black high heels. The ones she’d been wearing last night and the headless stem of a rose.

Everyday her assistant had asked her if she ‘had a case of the Mondays’ all week, usually a harsh look was enough for Daisy, her assistant to move onto other things. But sure enough the young woman had asked her in some fashion or other everyday if she was having a bad day and it was an unfair question. She hadn’t been having a bad day, she had been having a bad week.

Spring fashion week was coming up and this was the calm before the storm. In a matter of two weeks her studio would be a madhouse of activity with agents, models, designers, and other photographers all jockeying for the best work. Personally, she hated fashion week.

She didn’t pick up a camera with the intent of taking pretty photos of rail thin models wearing expensive dresses that didn’t conform to her sense of fashion in the slightest. She’d picked up a camera because she preferred shooting objects instead of people.

And her preferred type of photography was going out of style, not too many people shot actual wet film, everything was digital. Her favorite pastime was going the way of the dinosaurs, which made her a bit old school. Or so everyone who’d ever set foot in her apartment ever told her, not too many people had their own personal darkroom.

Maybe a few hours in her darkroom this weekend would settle her down, calm her mind. It sounded like a nice and easy weekend in, and she needed nice and easy after the week she’d had.

The studio was a mess, the vanity had product all over it, the mirror covered with smudges, clothes and props strewn about. The last of the crew had left and it was just Belladonna and Daisy.

It was nice to finally have some quiet after the storm that had swept through. She busied herself with turning off lights and moving furniture back to where she preferred it while Daisy tidied up the vanities and bathroom. Some models were thoughtful and didn’t leave the place a mess, others, well, not so much.

It became apparent that Daisy had been talking to her when a hand waved over her face and she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped and looked at a startled Daisy, usually their evenings were filled with idle chatter but tonight she knew she wasn’t an active participant.

“Sorry, what?”

Daisy blinked, “What's got you wound up so tight?”

“Just a long day.”

“More like a long week.” Daisy muttered, “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it all week, it’s weird really. I’ve never seen you so… robotic.” Belladonna shook her head and shrugged. “Does this have anything to do with what happened last Friday?”

Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t said anything to Daisy about what happened, hell she didn’t even tell her she’d been out. “What do you mean?”

“The voicemail you got from Jackson?”

Jackson! Relief flooded her, and she made a mental note to cut Daisy some slack the next time she asked her if she was having a case of the Mondays. She slumped down onto the couch and groaned internally, truth be told she’s forgotten about her ex’s phone call. The thing that had prompted her to go out in the first place.

“I’m busting my ass working fifty hours a week on a good week, getting further and further away from any thought of him and then I hear he’s engaged and I’m jealous.” She released a deep held breath, “Why am I jealous?”

Her and Jacks had been steady for two years and then an on again and off again thing for over a year and their chemistry was amazing but in their last year together something always came up. In the end he would never choose her and they’d break up for a bit and then get back together. The final straw was another canceled date. She just wanted a straight answer from him about what was going to happen between them. Daisy gave her a comforting look.

“How about we go out and have some fun at a club? Grab some drinks and maybe flirt with some cute guys?”

The thought made her feel sick. She shook her head as nonchalantly as she could manage. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure? It’s Friday night in Gotham, anything can happen.”

Don’t I know it?

“No, I think I’m going to go home and binge watch Lucifer.” Daisy didn’t seem convinced, “Seriously, I am perfectly happy spending time alone.”

“Do you want me to stay and help you finish?”

“No, go enjoy your weekend while you can. We’ve got about two weeks until hell week. Go have fun.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll have a lemon drop in your honor.” She chuckled and nodded, the gesture was sweet. Daisy was a nice girl but she was a younger girl than Belladonna, almost ten years younger. Still in that clubbing, lemon drop drinking phase. She remembered those days. “See you Monday.”

Daisy gave her one final wave and went about finishing up in the studio. With Daisy gone she breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She had forgotten about Jackson.

She wasn’t even sure if she missed him so much as she missed having someone in her life that she was comfortable with.

She grabbed her jacket and purse before locking up the studio and setting the panel alarm.

It was a bit late for the subway and she didn’t see any taxis so maybe walking a few blocks would help clear her head. She hadn’t gone far before she realized someone was following her.

When a hand reached out behind her she shrieked and spun in her heels.

“Belladonna Black?” Her eyes were wide in fear and as they met the disinterested faces of two men in off the rack suits and two badges made a quick appearance. “Detectives Ramirez and Craven with the GCPD, we’ve got a few questions for you.”

Chapter Two

#roman sionis smut #romansionisfanfiction #smut #fake relationship #fanfiction is life #original character #close proximity #slightly toxic #I’m the bad guy #slight power imbalance #medium burn romance #Roman Sionis original female character #18+ content #18+ only #shadows of deception #Roman Sionis toxic love fangirl club

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter Seven

Shadows of Deception

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Chapter Seven

Do It For Me by Rosenfeld

As soon as she stepped through her front door into the warmth of her loft apartment, her cheerful demeanor quickly faded, replaced by a frown upon spotting someone seated on the couch.

Benjamin Cyrus Black, a distinguished man with a salt-and-pepper beard, reclined comfortably, his presence commanding attention. He held a lit Cuban cigar, its fragrant smoke mingling with the air, it smelled good on Roman but on her father it just smelled like oppression.

With a thinly veiled politeness that barely concealed her annoyance, Belladonna greeted him, her tone reminiscent of one used when dealing with an unwanted telemarketer. "Hello, Dad."

Benjamin looked up from his contemplative state and offered a nod in response. "Hello, Belladonna," he replied, his voice carrying a tone of authority with a touch of indifference.

As the room filled with a tense silence, Belladonna fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's presence even as a grown woman, she was still afraid of him. Their relationship has been strained for years, marked by their conflicting personalities and differing views on life. She knew that engaging in conversation with him was often an exercise in frustration.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Belladonna crossed her arms over her chest, readying herself for whatever conversation her father had come to initiate. 

The loft, once a sanctuary for Belladonna's creative pursuits, now held an added layer of tension, as the clash between father and daughter loomed on the horizon. 

~~~

Whispers rippled through the room as Belladonna entered, and her colleagues made no effort to hide their stares. Their eyes darted between her and each other, clearly sensing something was amiss. Her foul mood was evident in the way she carried herself, her usual vivaciousness muted by a somber aura and an almost aggressive cadence. She'd left Roman's penthouse that night feeling like a queen, only to be promptly crushed under her father’s designer shoe.

"Oh my God, Belladonna, what happened?" Daisy's voice was filled with worry and her eyes searched Belladonna's face for answers, the angry split lip and bruise on her cheek marring what was usually an otherwise flawless appearance. Belladonna wasn’t in the mood for the conversation and for a few moments she had every intention of saying nothing until Daisy posed a dangerous question. "Did Roman do this?"

Daisy was taken aback when she caught sight of the unsightly bruise, she quickly pulled Belladonna aside for an urgent conversation.

"Oh my God, Belladonna, what happened?" Daisy's voice was filled with worry and her eyes searched Belladonna's face for answers. "Did Roman do this?"

Belladonna's eyes widened slightly at the accusation, annoyance flickering across her features. "Of course not," she responded firmly, her voice tinged with frustration.

Daisy remained unconvinced, “Look, Belladonna we all saw him yesterday, he was pretty intense, men like that…” Her words trailed off with an unspoken truth that both women understood well. “The tabloids…”

Her eyes softened as she realized she had to do damage control and fast if she was going to make good on her word of salvaging Romans reputation. "Daisy, Roman's not like that. Our dynamic is just... intense." She hesitated, realizing just how cliche what she was saying sounded. What did every victim in a ansbusive relationship ever say? Something like that, she needa  different appraoch. "Daisy, last week I asked Roman to tie me up and blindfold me and I gave him twenty minutes to let him do whatever he wanted to me and when his time was up, I rode him like the But it wasn't Roman who did this. It was my father."

"Your father? How... How did he find out where you live? Are you okay? Is it safe for you to go home?" A lightbulb went off in Daisy's eyes, “People were talking and snapping photos as you two left. A few people said you guys were looking pretty cozy in the conference room too. I saw it this morning across my feed”

Belladonna's face tightened, the pain of her past and the present converging in her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it, Daisy. I just want to work, to focus on something else." She brushed off Daisy's concern, attempting to shield herself from the vulnerability of the situation.

Daisy bit her lip, torn between respecting Belladonna's wishes and her own instinct to protect her friend. "Does Roman know about this?" she asked tentatively, her voice filled with worry. “I mean, does he know about your father?”

A scoff escaped Belladonna's lips, mingling with bitterness. "Are you crazy? Of course he doesn't." Her tone 

Daisy hesitated, her gaze filled with uncertainty. "But, Belladonna, shouldn't he know? Shouldn't he be there for you?"

Belladonna's voice was firm and determined. "Daisy, listen to me. I need you to have my back on this."

Daisy's worry mingled with her loyalty, she nodded. "You know I do, Belladonna.”

The atmosphere in the studio remained tense throughout the morning, as the news of Belladonna's bruise circulated among her colleagues. Whispers fluttered like hushed wings, curiosity mingling with concern. Daisy, ever watchful, kept a vigilant eye on Roman's lack of communication. As time passed the absence of any text or call from him became conspicuous.

Just as the lunch break was about to commence, the studio doors swung open, and Roman strode in, holding a cup of Belladonna's favorite coffee. His charm was on full display, a practiced smile playing on his lips. But as his gaze landed on the bruise adorning Belladonna's face, the warmth vanished, replaced by a storm of anger brewing within him. The act dropped, as did the coffee spilling on the floor, revealing the genuine concern that lurked beneath his charismatic facade.

Shit.

In a near-shouting voice, Roman demanded, "Who did this?" His words reverberate through the studio, commanding attention. He closed the distance between them, cupping Belladonna's face in his hands, his touch firm yet careful, as if handling something precious. It was possessiveness veiled as concern, a complex blend of emotions that only he could truly decipher.

Belladonna acted quickly, her mind racing to quell any suspicions that may arise among their colleagues. She threw her arms around Romans neck and hugged him tightly, meeting Roman's confused gaze and issuing a command harshly whispered into his ear. 

"Kiss me." 

In that intimate moment, she whispered further into his ear, her words laced with determination. "Lots of people are watching, and more than half of them probably think you did this. So play the concerned boyfriend and kiss me!" She held her breath, waiting for him to understand, to comply.

Roman recovered quickly after being initially caught off guard by her sudden request, registering her words and the gravity of the situation. He complied, taking her hand on his, bringing it close to his face placing a kiss upon her palm before pressing his lips against hers gently. The kiss was a performance, a good one. A convincing display of affection that would sway any onlookers.

"Angel, who did this to you?" Roman's voice dropped low and was filled with a fine tuned mixture of rage and desire, carrying genuine concern. Its authenticity resonated through the room, loud enough for all close by to hear. He played his part flawlessly, projecting the image of a concerned lover, protective and deeply invested in her well-being. 

Belladonna took a deep breath, her mind working swiftly to devise a plan. She laced her fingers with his, a symbolic gesture of unity, and leans in to place a tender kiss upon his hand. "Baby, I’m fine," she told him, her voice filled with determination and a touch of vulnerability. With their hands still entwined, she led him toward an empty conference room again.

But her attempt to distance herself from the chaos was short-lived when she turned around to find Roman standing right there, their bodies pressed against the door. His fury is palpable, an electric current coursing through his veins. 

"Who did this?" Roman's voice cut through the air, filled with a dangerous edge. Belladonna hesitated, knowing that revealing the truth would mean exposing more of Roman's involvement in her life than she desired. In a desperate attempt to divert his anger, she tried a quick lie, claiming it was an accident. But Roman saw through her facade, his gaze piercing through her defenses. "Bull fucking shit, Angel, do not lie to me" he seethed, his tone a blend of fury, possessiveness, and offense. The question that followed caught her off guard, and for a moment, her shock was palpable. "Are you fucking around on me?" Roman's accusation hung heavily in the air dark and dangerous and full of anger, casting a shadow over their already complicated relationship.

Her response was swift, filled with genuine surprise and indignation. "What? Of course not!" Yet, Roman was unrelenting and not convinced The weight of his doubt threatened to suffocate the fragile trust between them.

“Why should I believe you, Belladonna? You’ve just lied to me!” His voice was filled with venom and it sounded much like it had the night she met him when he killed so easily. 

She placed her hands on Roman's chest, a subtle attempt to anchor him. "You can't kill anybody." Her voice, a plea to temper his anger.

Roman's tone softened ever so slightly, "Angel," he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips, his touch gentle yet with an undeniable intensity. "I'll do whatever I damn well please." 

Belladonna took a deep breath, her body still pressed against the door, "Roman, I'm not cheating on you," she asserted firmly, her own frustration seeping through “How did you even come to that conclusion? Not that it matters, this isn’t real anyway!” She hissed as she tried to yank her hand back. 

"It doesn't matter if it's real, Angel," he interjected, his voice firm and unwavering. "Until it's not, you belong to me." His possessive nature, a reflection of his need to assert control over her, even in this charade.

"I am not a cheater, not even on a fake boyfriend. I had a visit from my father last night," she revealed, her voice suddenly a bit weak. His fury momentarily subsided, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. "We don't get along," she continued, weakness replaced by bitterness. Roman tilted her chin up, his gaze intense as he studied her face. She could feel his scrutiny, the silent demand for the truth. "Am I lying?" 

"No, Angel, I don't think you are," Roman surprised her with his admission. He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips, planting a tender kiss upon her skin. The gesture was affectionate and protective, and sent a thrill down her spine but she couldn't understand why he was doing it, no one else was around to see it. "Tell me exactly what happened, and don't lie to me again, Belladonna,"

Her voice was steady but traces of resentment were audible as she recounted the strained visit with her father the previous night. 

"My father doesn't like it when I rock the boat." 

Curiosity filled Roman's voice as he asked, "How are you rocking the boat?" 

"By being involved with you." 

Roman's brow rose in intrigue, and he leaned in closer, urging her to share more. "What did you tell your father?"

"I told him it's none of his business who I'm fucking." Roman's grin widened.

"Good for you," he replied, his voice filled with satisfaction. But the amusement faded, replaced by a simmering anger as he added, "What did he say to that?" Belladonna's expression grew somber as she pointed at the bruise on her face.

"Let's just say my father has a very specific idea about how to make women and children compliant," Roman's displeasure was evident, his jaw clenched, and his grip on her hand tightened.

"I don't want you to get involved, Roman. It's complicated enough already," Roman's eyes bore into hers, burning with determination.

"Oh, Angel,” Roman sank his hands into her hair and used his grip to force her to look at him. "No one tells me what to do, not even fake girlfriends," he retorted in defiance.

He let her go and turned to leave seemingly unaffected by her pleas, and continued to walk away, brushing her off with his nonchalant demeanor. 

Belladonna's voice took on a more urgent tone. She reached out to grab his arm, her fingers trembling slightly. "I'm serious, Roman. There's more at stake here than your pride.”

But Roman, seemingly unfazed, straightened his jacket as if preparing to leave. The corners of his mouth curled into an amused smile as he observed her futile attempts to block the door. "Lunchtime Is over, Angel. Daddy has some work to do," he quipped dripping with mockery.

Desperation seeped into Belladonna's voice as she scrambled to find the right words to stop him. "Roman, no! Please, I'm begging you," she pleaded, but Roman's playfully dismissive demeanor remained intact with his pandering response. 

"Oh, kitten, that doesn't sound like begging."

Belladonna didn’t hesitate, her voice cracking with sincerity as she pleaded once more. "Roman, please. Give me till tonight. I promise I'll answer all your questions, no more secrets, no more lies. Just don't do anything until I get off work. Please," she implored, her words carried a raw vulnerability.

Roman's steely resolve wavered for a moment as he gazed at her, his hardened features softened by a pang of curiosity. The creature before him now resembled nothing of the Belladonna that had entered his penthouse last night. She seemed like she was truly afraid, but not of him, of the consequences. He contemplated her request, his mind weighing the risks and consequences. But he didn’t really care.

"For me. Do it for me, please baby," she nearly cried, her hands grasped his, clinging tightly.

Roman stopped, intrigued by her use of the endearing term ‘baby,’ leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Say it again," a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Belladonna, realizing the effect her words had on Roman, repeats them. "Please, baby." Her voice, a whisper as she brought his hands gently to her lips, pleading with her touch. “Please.”

"You're lucky you're so pretty when you beg," Belladonna breathed a sigh of relief, her tension momentarily lifted. "Tonight. No more secrets. No lies, Angel."

With the agreement set, Belladonna nodded, trapped under Roman's intense gaze. She placed a gentle and thankful kiss to his knuckles. 

Roman quickly donned his mask of a loving boyfriend, guiding Belladonna back to the studio, with his arm wrapped low around her hip. As they entered, eyes found them, quickly scrutinizing each movement and every gesture. 

Roman should have been an actor, his charm and faux concern was effortless and even though she knew it was an act, it was Oscar worthy. “We’ll handle this together, Angel.” His voice velvety smooth, leaning in to tuck her hair behind her ear and placing a sweet kiss on her bruised cheek then one to her split lip lingering longer than he really had to. 

Turning her hand over, his lips found her palm once again. His voice was low as he murmured against her hand “You owe me a kiss, Angel.” Whether he was referencing her promise to kiss him whenever she saw him like she had the night before, or because she was still trying to convince him to do as she asked was anyone's guess. 

Carefully orchestrated for all to see, Belladonna brushed her thumb against his lip and just as she had the night before kissed him, albeit a little less tongue this time. Roman's embrace exuded a sense of protection, and onlookers couldn’t help but be captivated by the display of affection. "Till tonight, Angel."

~~~

The dim lighting cast shadows across the room in Roman’s penthouse, adding to the somber mood. It was a far cry from the night before when she’d strolled in like she owned the place, she took a seat across from Roman, her hands fidgeting slightly.

Exuding a mix of arrogance and concern, Roman leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke swirling around him. He looked like a Bond villain, but then what did that make her? His eyes fixated on Belladonna, his expression full of arrogance and mockery. 

"Not so confident tonight, are we, Angel?" 

Belladonna took a deep breath, "I'm gonna need something stronger than that," referring to the vodka. 

Roman's demeanor shifted slightly, a touch of impatience in his voice. "Talk first. Booze later," not a request, not a suggestion.

She nodded, a s far as she could tell Roman had kept his word and a promise was a promise. 

"My father found me again. The media attention from our public appearances led him right to me. He paid me a visit as a reminder to fall in line and obey the family's expectations." 

Roman's expression hardened as he listened, his empathy mingling with his own experiences of familial disappointment. He leaned forward, his eyes locked on Belladonna, "What does your father want?"

A look of genuine disgust crossed her face as she spoke, her voice filled with disdain. "He's furious because he needs me to be single. Thing is, I’m sort of promised to someone," 

Roman's features twisted with disbelief. He clenched his jaw, processing the information. Ridiculous, who the fuck does that anymore?

The tension in the room grew as Roman's displeasure became palpable. 

"What the fuck do you mean 'sort of promised to someone?'" His demanding tone was thick with irritation. 

Belladonna, feeling defensive and worn down, shrugged her shoulders, "It's just what it sounds like, Roman." 

Roman's eyes narrowed at her combative stance. "Who is this supposed intended of yours?" 

Belladonna scoffed dismissively, her tone dripping with bitterness. "Fuck if I know, and hell if I care," she retorted, her frustration evident. "He's some old friend of my father's, at least twenty years older than me. It's how they operate—old money, old family connections," she explained, her voice betraying a hint of discomfort as she recalled the memory. "I met him once when I was fifteen," Belladonna confessed. "Haven't seen him since, but he was already in his late thirties back then. Honestly, just thinking about it makes me want to puke." A long silence stretched before Roman spoke again. 

"What's he got on you, Angel?" 

Belladonna exhaled a deep breath, pulling strands of her hair so tightly several slipped through her fingers. She reached into her coat pocket, retrieving a cigarette and lighting it up, using the brief moment to gather her thoughts. 

Taking a long drag from her cigarette, Belladonna met Roman's gaze, her eyes reflecting vulnerability and anger. "My mother," 

Roman's expression darkened as he processed her words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Belladonna took another drag from her cigarette, the smoke swirling around her. Roman's demeanor remained stoic while he absorbed the revelations, his eyes never left Belladonna's face. 

"Explain," Roman demanded, his voice firm and determined.

"Moria Black isn't my mother," she asserted. "My mother is a Italian immigrant, Maria Caruso. She worked for my father as a housekeeper when she came to the country, and he had a thing for teenage girls. Knocked her up, took her passport, cut her off from everyone and everything back home and kept me. His barren bitch of a wife can't have kids. I'm just the consolation prize of one of his many one-night stands. She never got over what he did to her."

Pure rage emanated from her as she recounted the years of torment her mother endured. She exhaled another plume of smoke and fixed her gaze on a spot on the floor, her anger seething.

"Be a good girl, Bella," she mutters bitterly in an exaggerated Greek accent "The son of a bitch is hiding her somewhere from me. I haven't seen her since I was twenty-five."

Roman did the mental math, realizing it had been four long years since Belladonna last saw her mother. While he had no personal experience with parental relationships, he was well versed in manipulation and power imbalance

"Hope he’s not expecting some sweet little virgin bride?" Roman inquired, slightly taken aback by Belladonna's laughter.

"I think he thought he was being so clever sending me to an all-girls prep school," she replied, her laughter tinged with a hint of irony. "Seemed to think I couldn’t have sex if I wasn’t around boys, and to some degree he was right. While other girls my age were having sex, I was the only one having orgasms.”

Roman chuckled at Belladonna’s amusing take on the situation. Her hesitation dissipated as Roman beckoned her closer, she slowly rose from her seat, making her way around the desk. She perched on the edge, her legs crossed, observing Roman intently a little bit more of her sass returning. Another ring of smoke escaped her lips as she listened to his words.

"Angel," Roman began, his voice low and filled with a delightful combination of amusement and seriousness. His hand slid from her knee up her thigh. "I would've kept you for the fun of it, but now? I just might do it out of spite."

Her expression fell in irritation, unamused by his comment. She abruptly stood up and shoved his hand off her leg, storming towards the liquor cabinet, rummaging through its contents, finding a half-empty bottle of vodka, she took a long swig straight from it. She looked back to Roman like a parent who was disappointed in their child might.

"Well, I’m glad you find this so amusing, Roman," There was no mistaking the anger that was now directed at him, "I'm not really in the position to be spiteful. I've spent the last three years trying to find her. But I keep coming up with nothing. He used to let me see her once a year, then when I turned twenty-five, you know what said to me?” She let a moment of silence fall, though she didn’t actually expect him to answer her. “He said I could see her next at my wedding. If I couldn't find her in three years, what would be different now?"

Roman moved to her side, taking the bottle from her grasp, clearly unaffected by her anger, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Angel, you didn't have me before," he cradled her jaw making her look at him. 

He was offering to help her? Genuine curiosity danced in Belladonna's eyes. "Why would you do this? Why help me?” He didn’t answer her, he looked at her like she was a chess piece. “You don’t care, I’m just an alibi to keep your ass out of Blackgate."

Roman's grip tightened around her, and he drew her closer,taking one of her hands in his, thus thumb brushing against her palm. His tone became softer, yet resolute. "Because until our business is complete, you belong to me," a possessiveness to his words. "And nobody fucks with Roman Sionis."

Belladonna's confusion deepened as Roman thanked her for being honest with him, reminiscing of the way her old headmaster used to chide her when they already knew the truth, his own enigmatic smile hinted at his hidden knowledge. 

"You arrogant jackass!" she exclaims, her voice filled with anger as she forcefully pushed him in the chest. "What good did that do? Why go through all this if you already knew?"

Roman swiftly took hold of her hands in a grip of steel, holding them firmly to stop her assault. His gaze met hers, unwavering and determined. "I needed to know that you wouldn't lie to me, kitten," he explained matter-of-factly. "You did lie to me once today. If I can't trust you with something as simple as a tragic backstory, then I can't trust you at all, can I?"

“You... trust me?" 

Roman shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, trust but verify," he replied, his tone serious. "Angel, as long as you're with me, you're mine. And I protect what's mine, that protection extends to your mother."

She was left speechless, her mind reeling from the implication of his words. "What are you playing at?"

Roman's smile remained, his eyes gleaming with mischief and determination. "I play to win, kitten," his words carried a hint of both challenge and affection. In his own way, he made it clear that he wasn’t not just a man driven by self-interest, but someone who did things simply because he wanted to and he needed no further justification.

She couldn’t explain why, and it didn’t make any sense, but she wanted to kiss him. To shove her tongue down his throat until the lack of oxygen made him dizzy. Driven by a mix of emotions, her lips were a hair's breadth from his own but he stopped her, instead pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Angel, you've been drinking, and you're upset," he explained. "I'm having Zsasz take you to a hotel. Tomorrow morning, we'll strengthen your security—new locks, a new system. And from now on, you're never going anywhere alone again. Understand?" His words left no room for negotiation or argument, taken aback by his forceful declaration, her mind raced to process his sudden protectiveness. Before she could respond, Roman continued, his determination evident. "Starting tomorrow, I’m gonna find your mother," he asserted firmly. "And once that's done, I'll pay your father a visit. Neither of you will ever have to worry about him again. Understand?"

She nodded in a daze, the night took a turn she could have never predicted. Roman took her hand, kissing her palm tenderly, as if to offer comfort and reassurance.

"We're going to make a splash, kitten, in the court of public opinion," he said with a mischievous grin, her trust in his intentions growing. Roman's hand caressed her hair, as he let her go, now confident that he’d made his point. “Make all of Gotham fall in love with us, make them want to see every kiss, every date, every smile. And then we’re going to rub your fathers face in it.”

“Under the circumstance, I think that’s the most romantic thing anyones ever said to me” Her newfound fascination with Roman Sionis evident in her eyes. 

“You need to get out more.” He offered her that snarky grin of his, but the look on her face suggested she still had a little bit of fight in her.

"I'm not leaving here without a goodnight kiss," 

Roman chuckled softly, a genuine fondness for her fiery spirit, just a minute ago she looked as though she was fighting back unbridled rage and sadness, but now? If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she wanted to fuck him, though maybe that was his ego talking. And as much as he wouldn’t have minded a goodnight fuck, he didn’t want it with a mess of a woman, not that Belladonna was a mess by any means, but Roman had very specific wants in the bedroom and if her mind wasn’t on what they were doing one hundred percent, then he didn’t want it at all. However, he conceded slightly and let their lips meet in a lingering kiss, sealing their unspoken agreement and fueling the growing intensity of their connection.

Chapter Eight

#i have too many stories #original character #fanfiction is life #alternate universe #roman sionis smut #birdsofprey #bop #roman sionis imagine #roman sions #romansionis #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis is a tease #roman Sionis fan fiction #black mask imagine #black mask fanfiction #protective roman #romansionisimagine #romansionisblackmask #romansionissmut #romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter Four

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Final Note: This story is not meant for minors, you alone are responsible for what you consume on the internet. Minors DNI. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted elsewhere but please feel free to reblog.

Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

Wear the dress? 

What dress? She wondered to herself as she read the text message again, the elevator dinged on her floor and she shoved the phone into her back pocket. Shifting the brown paper bags in her arms she struggled with her keys just outside her apartment. She wasn’t sure how Roman got her phone number but then again, it didn’t really surprise her. Roman Sionis came from a very well connected family and there wasn’t a single doubt that he had the resources to get what he wanted and he was certainly used to it. 

What dress?

He hadn’t sent her anything at work in fact there had been virtually no communication since their tryst in her kitchen several days prior and although it seemed an odd gesture, it did sound like the kind of thing Roman would do; grand displays. He was definitely the type of man who would buy all the roses in a flower shop just to make a point, then again he was also the type of man to send a severed finger in the mail. She had no evidence to back that one up but she’d seen movies. No, if Roman had sent her anything at work he would have made sure she got it, he wouldn’t leave something like that to chance. It wasn’t his M.O.

The locks clicked and she entered her apartment, still wondering about the text message. She’d got it just as she stepped out of the car, for the last week whenever she got off work there had been a black car waiting to take her home each night. A courtesy of Roman. The driver had introduced himself as Lloyd and that he was to drive her to and from work and wherever else she needed to go. He seemed like a nice kid, and he definitely was a kid, couldn’t have been older than twenty one, clean cut, nice manners, friendly and professional. What was a kid like that doing working for Roman Sionis? It was a bit odd, but she was now fairly certain that Roman wasn’t going to kill her and she slept a little easier, though there were nights when she woke up in a cold sweat swearing she heard gunshots or smelled blood. 

Nightmares. Just bad dreams. It seemed so stupid to be a grown woman still waking up from bad dreams. She’d often wondered how many bad things had to happen to you before you stopped having nightmares. How awful would things have to be before nightmares were more like movie trailers in your sleep. 

Everyone had nightmares, she told herself. Everyone. Even Roman Sionis. Though his nightmares probably ran more like the upper 1% of wealthy first world problems. His favorite scotch was gone, or his suit clashed with his sunglasses. Really, what did scare men like Roman Sionis? Did anything? 

She shook the thought from her head and went about putting her groceries away all the while having forgotten about the text message, now locked onto a train of thought regarding what scared men like Roman. She genuinely couldn’t think of anything and it wasn’t until she finished putting everything away, hung up her coat and put her keys in the dish she kept them in and headed towards her bedroom that she remembered it.

There, on her bed was something that stopped her in her tracks, the red mini dress she’d worn to Romans club. The same black clutch and black heels next to it. 

That dress had been in the back of her small walk in closet, exactly where she’d wanted it to stay. In fact, she’d kinda thrown it back there the morning after the whole thing. There had been flecks of blood on it and it had a few popped seams from the physical altercation she’d been in. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever wear it again or ever look at it again. 

But as her eyes scanned the dress she noticed something, it looked brand new. She picked it up and looked hard at the red fabric, but she couldn’t find any hint of blood splatter. In fact it smelled great, it had been freshly laundered and the popped seams repaired. But it was certainly her dress, the tag on the inside had a small black heart drawn in with a permanent marker, it had been one of the first nice luxury items she’d bought herself with her own money. She loved that dress, so a little black heart went on the tag.

It would seem that Roman had paid her apartment another visit. The fact that he had now broken in twice, that she knew of, no longer really bothered her. But his motives were a mystery to her right now. She looked at the heels, the scuffing was gone and they too looked brand new, even her little black clutch looked a bit polished up.

She almost jumped when her phone buzzed with a message. 

Put it on. 

She knew she was alone but she looked around the room and out the windows, not sure why she did. 

She contemplated the dress and the events that had occurred the last time she’d worn it. She also contemplated what the consequences would be if she didn’t comply, but the request seemed harmless enough. And each day Lloyd picked her up in that fancy car she grew a little more confident that Roman didn’t want her dead, weirdly enough he was kind of growing on her. 

But she still paced around the room for fifteen minutes before deciding to do it. 

She’d fixed her hair up a bit and touched up her makeup opting for a slightly more smokey eye than her usual daytime look. He didn’t say anything about makeup or hair but she just assumed it came with the package. As her mentor had told her when she got into fashion photography; 

Don’t even bother with the dress if you’re not going to nail the part.

Standing in her room in a matching black satin set she took one last look at the dress before stepping into it. The fabric clung to her frame and fit her just as perfectly as it had the same night, it wasn’t anything scandalous but it had been a favorite of hers. 

Working in fashion she’d learned a few tips and tricks about clothes and a big one was that if you wanted to stand out, wear red. Red was a color most people were Instantly drawn to. It was a mini dress but not so short she looked like she was working a corner, a generous amount of thigh was visible. The neckline wasn’t salacious, it was a simple square neckline and offered no sneak peaks or excessive cleavage but it framed her bust nicely.

Red looked good on her and with her olive skin tone and black hair, it had often been the outfit she’d worn when she wanted to be the center of attention, which admittedly wasn’t very often. That night she’d wanted to be seen, she’d wanted attention. 

The black heels gave her an extra three inches, and completed the look. She’d barely had a minute to assess her reflection when a heavy fist hammered in her door. She didn’t jump this time as she was becoming used to the sudden and thundering sound but she did do a double take when she opened it. 

Zsasz stood outside her apartment, dressed up a little nicer than the last time she’d seen him. Black slacks a black jacket and a black t-shirt underneath it, he looked like a bodyguard. But she was fairly certain that was part of his job too. 

“Ready?”

She nodded slowly. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer her, but he just nodded down the hall to the elevator. He looked annoyed when she didn’t immediately follow him, rolling his eyes slightly when she locked her front door and slipped the keys into her clutch. 

“Club?”

He nodded as the elevator door closed, he didn’t seem quite as menacing as he had but he still didn't seem like he wanted to be there. His presence, however, was probably a direct order from Roman. 

Zsasz wasn’t the chatty type so she didn’t bother trying to make conversation, the car ride was quick and quiet. Zsasz seemed like a bare minimum type of guy, one who only spoke when absolutely necessary, and definitely not one for chit chat. 

It had been just as busy as the night she’d first stepped inside Masquerade Noir although this time she skipped the line and was ushered in through a VIP entrance. 

Once inside, Zsasz vanished and she was lost once more in a sea of people. No one seemed to watch her or follow her, she had no idea where Zsasz had gone and she couldn’t see Roman anywhere. She was, however, fairly certain he was watching her. 

No one was looking her way or paying any real attention to her, just another face in the crowd. 

The club looked different to her now, and as she walked towards the bar she watched the bartenders. They were ringing in sales and measuring alcohol properly, she could see a city license hanging up in plain sight along with a liquor license. 

The staff were friendly and courteous to the patrons, the bartenders didn’t seem to be over serving, no illicit deal looked like they were being struck for extra services or portions and the bouncers watched everything with a keen and professional eye. 

Roman was right, by all accounts, he ran a legitimate business. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, he had told her as much and it seemed an odd thing to lie about. 

She reached into her clutch for her wallet, feeling the need for a drink when she came across a note written in a masculine yet elegant script. 

Deja vu, kitten?

The note caught her off guard, it was only a note but somehow finding it in her favorite clutch seemed an odd sort of invasion of privacy. 

“Anything to drink, miss?” One of the bartenders asked, a young and handsome guy dressed smartly in the club's uniform. 

She took a second to answer but he didn’t seem annoyed or bothered by her hesitancy. 

“Uh, bathrooms are?”

He gestured with his hand in the direction that was close to the same door she’d gone through.

“Just down the hall on your left, miss.”

She nodded her thanks and abandoned the bar, heading in the direction the bartender pointed out but moving past the hallway and instead opting for the employees only door. She cast a quick glance backward but saw no one watching, and she slipped behind the door. 

The hall was empty and she remembered her initial concern of being followed and how she slipped off her heels to avoid making a sound. It felt like overkill to mimic her actions down to taking her heels off but she did and walked quickly down the hall as she had before, glancing back over her shoulder. 

Did she honestly expect the same guy to poke his head in through the door and follow her? Of course not. 

But that wasn’t why her heart was hammering in her chest when she rounded the corner into the storage room. She half expected to see Jimmy and his two men when she stepped inside but there was nothing. 

No one. 

No sign of the drugs she had seen, no evidence of blood on the floor. She even looked up to the ceiling but there was no trace of the stray bullet she’d shot upwards when she’d stumbled into Roman. 

It had been less than three weeks since the whole thing had happened. She thought she’d be hearing the gunshots in her head or that she would smell the blood still but there was an absence of any sort or sensory information from the room. 

This was so stupid. 

She scoffed out a breath and shook her head, what was she even doing there? 

There was everything she needed in her fridge for margaritas and here she was, in Roman’s club playing some weird game with no idea as to why. 

She turned to leave, having had enough of Roman’s odd game and walked right into a hard chest, again. She didn’t shriek this time but she did jump, startled as hell. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

Wearing the same black suit with silver accents and rose tinted sunglasses as he had that night. Zsasz standing behind him. 

“The sign says employees only.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry!” Her immediate reaction was to apologize? She hadn’t planned that. Boy, Roman really did have her pegged right. 

His face was contorted in displeasure, nothing about his expression said he was the least bit happy to see her. There wasn’t a single hint of recognition anywhere in his eyes. She was confused. What was going on?

“Looking for someone, Angel?”

She stammered for a minute trying to figure out what he was doing, but then a thought came to her.

Deja vu. 

“No,” she replied slowly. “I, uh, I was looking for the exit.”

His expression softened slightly, but he still didn’t give any indication that he knew her. 

“The exit is in the front, this is the back of the house and I don’t allow customers back here.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I, uh, was trying to hide from someone then I was going to leave.”

“And who would you be hiding from?” He was wearing those black leather gloves again, they made that sound that leather on leather makes as he clasped his hands in front of him. 

“There was a guy out in the club, he was following me, getting a little too handsy for my taste. I just didn’t want him to follow me into a cab.” 

Romans posture softened considerably, he seemed less pissed off boss man and more concerned club owner looking after a guests needs. 

“What did he look like?”

“Um, white suit, black shirt under it. Black hair. My height.” She didn't actually remember his hair color or his height but she did remember the white suit, not many men could rock that look and he did not. 

“A white suit?” He sighed out an exasperated breath. “I think I know the man you’re talking about. He sticks out and several of my staff have brought concerning behavior to my attention. That isn’t welcome in my club.” He turned to Zsasz, “Zsasz, find this man and have security escort him out. Inform him that is now on the blacklist and make sure he understands what that means.”

Zsasz nodded and left the room, leaving the two of them alone, just as he had before. He looked back at Belladonna and he pulled off the sunglasses. Something about those gloves, she shook her head when he started speaking. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that your experience has been unpleasant but I hope it doesn’t put you off your appetite for a good time. Miss?”

“Belladonna Black.”

“Well, I take my guests' safety very seriously, Miss Black. Can I offer you some champagne by way of an apology?”

Jesus, he was convincing. She figured that by the way he’d dressed he’d had a flair for the dramatic, looked like that extended past his wardrobe. 

“That’s not necessary, I think I’m just going to grab a cab and head home.”

He glanced up and down at her, shaking his head slightly. “Miss Black, I have to say, it seems a shame to waste such a gorgeous dress on an early night. And I do hate to see a guest leave unsatisfied.” This whole time he’d been gradually inching her back towards a wall, one he knew had a slight blind spot from the camera nearby. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to make your evening more pleasurable?”

Jesus. Jesus Christ. Her eyes darted back from his face to his hands as he pulled off those gloves of his.

“Did he cheat on you?” He asked, catching her off guard with an odd tone of sincerity in his voice. 

Belladonna's face was etched in genuine confusion now, “How?” She didn’t tell him that, how did he know?

“You’re out, all dolled up, looking for attention, you just happen to have found it from the wrong man, and I’ve never seen you here before.”

She scoffed, that was for sure. “He left me. He’s getting married in a month.” Those words stung a little less than the last time she’d said them aloud.

Roman shook his head and raked his hungry gaze over her from head to toe. “Stupid man.”

Oh, hell with it. Fuck it all. She understood what was going on now and she couldn’t give a damn what anyone was going to say about her. She wanted to feel his hands on her again, wanted his mouth again. So she took it. 

She hooked an arm around his neck and pressed her lips to his. 

“Think you can look the police in the eye and lie to them? Say that you never saw Jimmy? That you let all your common sense go out the window and let a man like me touch you? Think you can pull off innocent?”

To hell with common sense. And to hell with the illusion of innocence, she may have been new to the whole shooting people thing but that didn’t mean she was innocent. The portrait he’d painted when they last spoke in her kitchen was too good to pass up. She could feel him smile against her lips and his hands on her hips smoothing her dress down before cupping her ass. The kiss was only a quick one and as he pulled back slightly she swept her tongue across his lips. 

“Oh, kitten.”

“Why do you call me that?” She asked, her voice soft and filled with lust. 

Roman smiled the type of smile that the devil himself wore when he was no doubt about to snatch a soul. He chuckled, pressing her into the wall, pushing his hips into hers before replying. 

“I know a sex kitten when I see one.”

His lips crashed back onto hers, hungry. Demanding. Dominating. Fucking perfect. 

Better than the other night in her kitchen, maybe it was the mini dress she was wearing or the fact that he was guiding one of her legs up and around his hip, grinding into her. 

The friction was amazing and she could already feel her panties growing incredibly wet. One of his hands gripped her thigh, holding it where he wanted and another clever hand began inching her dress upwards. Not obscenely high but just enough that the black satin panties she wore were within reach. 

A cool and surprisingly soft touch slipped between them and she moaned into his mouth when she felt his fingers caress over the dampening fabric. 

Anyone could have walked around the corner and into the room they were in, it was a fairly large room. And she would not have done anything at all, ignoring them as what Roman was doing to her just felt too good to interrupt. 

That hand of his stroking her panties painfully slowly, she didn’t care if she came off desperate so long as she came. Her hips bucked slightly and she jumped when she felt his fingers pulling the waistband of her panties down just enough for his hand to slip inside. 

Oh fuck. 

She’d watched this man kill three people in this room and he had her against the wall, tongue in her mouth and fingers stroking her pussy. Fuck, something was wrong with her.

Roman liked a verbal woman and while he was enjoying her mouth and those lips he wanted to hear every sound he could pull from her. He swept his tongue over her lips one more time before pulling back all together, and moving his mouth down her neck. 

And he wasn’t disappointed with what he heard. She jolted occasionally as he varied his touches in a maddening pace, and she rested her head against the wall practically panting as she didn’t have his mouth to focus on now. Her skin flushed hot and cold as he left a wet trail up and down her back, occasionally nipping at her ear, tongue licking the shell. 

Her chest heaved with the assault on her senses, and she was seeing fairy lights when she opened her eyes before they drifted shut again in ecstasy. 

She couldn’t help how her hips bucked against his hand every so often when his thumb would apply a sinful amount of pleasure to her clit, then he would stop or slow or move his touch elsewhere. 

“Fuck.” She groaned when he slipped a finger inside her stroking slowly, she now had a death grip on the collar of his suit jacket.

She audibly complained when he withdrew said finger but then drew in a sharp gasp when his thumb returned to tease her clit. After a few seconds she expected him to stop and was attempting to prepare herself for the torture it would bring, this was the type of man to edge a woman till she cried. But he didn’t, the sensations became more and more intense, he wasn’t stopping. He traced circles over and over breathing just as hard in her ear while he held her up as she was falling apart against the wall. 

“Oh, kitten. Be a good girl for me,” She didn’t know what he meant, and she didn’t care. He could have whatever he wanted. “Come for me.”

“Oh my god.” She moaned as she bit her lip, yeah, she could definitely do that. “Roman..” 

He smiled against her neck, he loved it when he heard women say his name like that. The sound of a woman desperate for release, they would do anything he asked. Power could be better than any narcotic. And sexual power was better than power itself. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His ministrations grew faster, he’d have her coming apart within seconds, the moments just before an orgasm came crashing down and their bodies shook and moans tumbled from their lips were the most delicious. He could feel it in the air, their desire. Their lips trembled, mouth often hung shape as though waiting for a scream to finish loading, legs quivered and their bodies stiffened. The whole process, the whole series of gestures was a spectacular show and Roman loved it. He smiled into her neck, biting down softly while he felt her body go through the same series of gestures. 

And when it finally came, her body shook and clenched at his fingers. Her hands yanked harshly  at his hair, pulling him off her neck and forcing her tongue into his mouth making a feral sound that shot bolts of lightning to his already painfully hard cock. Roman couldn’t contain his own moan of approval as she devoured his mouth aggressively. 

He wasn’t sure that he expected her to be a whimpering mess if a woman but he hadn't quite expected that reaction. 

His hand slowed, carrying her through the aftershocks that coursed through her body and gradually he slowed to a stop. As the warmth of an orgasm faded, her lips slowed against his to a stop, Roman released her thigh and removed his hand bringing his fingers to his lips. 

His eyes were blown black, and the thread that held his composure was frayed but somehow he held back. He brought his thumb to his lips but swallowed hard when Belladonna instead sealed her lips over the digit, swirling her tongue while looking straight into his black eyes. 

His gaze narrowed and his chest rose and fell in a deep and measured breath. One that suggested she’d just pushed him a little further than he’d expected. He was about to jerk his hand back when she released his thumb from her lips. He was sure that if she hadn’t stopped he would have thrown her back against the wall and hiked up that ridiculously short dress to fuck her like he’d mentioned in her apartment. 

Roman shook his head and ran a hand through his hair while an internal battle raged. Roman ran trains on women but never in his club. He’d tie them up and make them beg for his cock. Relished in their cries as he withheld orgasms but none of that ever happened in his club. He was a stickler about that self imposed rule, but he had to be. 

He growled when he felt her hands pulling on his belt and hated what he was about to do. 

“Kitten,” he snarled as he held both her hands in his, pressing his erection against her. “Nothing would make me happier than to fuck you into oblivion against this wall while I make the whole club listen your screams as I wring orgasm after orgasm from you body till you can’t stand.” He punctuated the word orgasm each time with a not so subtle thrust of his hips. “But you’ll take what I give you, and you’ll like it.”

She huffed out an irritated and borderline andgry breath, nodding, and she stopped trying to touch him altogether. She didn’t bother trying to change his mind, even though she was certain she could talk her way into a rough and hard quickie against the wall, despite the fact that Roman had said he wasn’t a quickie type of man. All men had a breaking point and Belladonna was very adept in finding it. But while her mind was racing to find the combination of words, tone and gestures to get her what she wanted, the thought evaporated from her in an instant when he dropped down to his knees. 

“Be a good girl and behave.” 

Her dress was still bunched up to her hips and he tugged it back down, her breath hitched in her chest when she felt his hands slip under the fabric and his thumbs hook into the side of her panties. He seemed to know what she was thinking and he shook his head at her in the same way an admonishing teacher might if they knew an unruly student was about to mouth off. He slid them down her legs all the while maintaining a penetrating stare. 

When he tapped her heeled foot, she stepped out of the garment and he rose back up, her back satin panties clutched firmly in his fist. 

A wild look came over his face and he inhaled deeply before placing them into his jacket pocket. 

“I’ll have Zsasz take you home,” he licked his lips and slipped his gloves back on, giving her one last kiss. “Keep those legs crossed, kitten.”

~~~

Roman smiled as he watched the playback of the storage room camera. He’d lost count of how many times he’d played it back, the audio was the best part. It captured every sound clear as day that combined with the souvenir he’d taken had been enough material for his spank bank for a while. 

The camera didn’t quite catch them but enough that it was obvious what was happening. 

He’d downloaded the video to his phone and found himself watching it and listening to it throughout the day. He’d also considered sending it to Belladonna, he wondered if she could appreciate it like he had or if she would be angry with him, he’d never been slapped in the face by a woman but he was fairly certain she would if he made a fool of her in public. In private, however, he knew a sex kitten when he saw one.

Some secrets should be kept secret, he decided. And then he restarted the video. 

She’d choked out his name again when his office door opened and Zsasz stood looking down at him. Roman made no move to stop the video, Belladonna's moans filled the silence and after a moment he stopped the video. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“Depends on what you have in the folder.”

Zsasz held out a decently thick folder to Roman, who stared at it for a moment before taking it and flipping through its contents. 

“The last six months of Jimmys life in Gotham.” He waited for Roman to motion for him to sit down. Apparently he decided it was worth the interruption. 

“Six? What happened to the whole year?”

“He wasn’t in Gotham. Not sure where he was or what he was doing but he wasn’t here.”

“You sure about that?”

“I asked nicely.” His tone indicated that nicely meant not so nice tactics.

Roman heaved out an annoyed breath, “Maybe you should go back and ask not-so-nicely.”

Zsasz nodded, reading Roman loud and clear.

“The timelines work if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“Whatever could you mean, Zsasz?” Roman smirked, still looking at the file. Zsasz was pretty thorough, Jimmy had been arrested multiple times for petty crime, nothing too serious but serious enough that he spent some time in Blackgate. It looked as though in his most recent stint in Blackgate, he’d made some friends in high places. 

“No wonder Jimmy found the balls to push drugs in my club, someone was backing him.”

“Any idea who?”

“Hard to say. His last shipment had Cobblepots credentials all over it, but Cobbletpot wouldn’t trust a piece of shit like Jimmy with that much product right away.” Roman set the file down and rested his head against his thumb and forefinger. “Who was his cellmate?”

“He had two.” Zsasz replied. “A guy named Vega, and another guy, Pete Jordan who oddly enough had an accident a few weeks after Jimmy became his cellmate.”

“Tell me about Pete Jordan.”

“Works for Tony Zucco. He’s a made man and a favorite of Tony’s. Had a lot of inside support but he didn't seem to like Jimmy. In his first two months Jimmy visited the infirmary at least half a dozen times.”

Roman nodded along, finding several medical and incident reports where Jimmy “fell” out of his bunk multiple times. Fell onto a fist, maybe. 

Not that Roman cared about Jimmy's well being. 

“What changed?”

“Sounds like Jimmy made friends with some of Cobblepots crew.  Most of Zuccos crew was being released and Cobblepots men went in, seems like a power shift in Blackgate left a leadership role open.”

“And Jimmy made a new friend.” Zsasz nodded. “When was Pete Jordan released?”

“He wasn’t. Pete Jordan had an accident in the library, one that left him comatose. He’s medicated but the state can’t decide what to do with him since he doesn’t have any family and no medical facility will take him in.”

“Not even Arkham?”

“Not even Arkham.” Now that was something of an achievement. God knew Hugo Strange was always itching for new patients to ‘treat’. “A week later Jimmy gets a new cellmate and all visits to the infirmary stop at least for Jimmy.”

“Looks like Jimmy got a favor done for him and made some friends.”

“Could explain why he was pushing Cobblepots product in the club. He didn’t have a choice.”

Roman nodded. 

“Still want those other six months?”

“No, new plan. Talk to his cellmate and find out what you can about what happened in Blackgate. I want to know everything that went on in there. Don’t be polite.”

Zsasz nodded again, and the office went quiet as Roman was somewhat deep in thought. Zsasz looked at the forgotten phone in his desk but quickly looked away when Roman noticed his stare. 

“She’s different from your usual types.”

Roman smiled and chuckled, “Still worried?”

“It’s kind of my job.” 

“Still think she’s a threat?” Roman asked as he played the audio and the sound of her moans and heavy breathing filled the room. He gradually pushed the volume louder.  Zsasz shifted in his chair, he didn’t bother replying, he knew Roman was trying to make a point. The point being he would do whatever he damn well pleased. 

“You’ve got something on her, she’s got something on you. Seems like you’ve both got a lot to lose.”

“But I don’t lose. People who bet on me to lose, lose.” Roman nodded with a smirk. He paused and looked back to the growing file he was accumulating on Belladonna Black. “Close the door when you leave.” Punctuating the request with the sound of his zipper. 

Chapter Five

#fanfiction is life #romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis smut #original character #i have too many stories #roman sionis #birdsofprey #ewanmcgregorcharacters #ewan mcgregor #simpingforthebadguy #yesiknowthisistoxic #black mask #blackmaskfanfiction #blackmasksmut #romansionissmut #romansionisblackmask #bop #blackmaskimagine #romansionisimagine #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception: Chapter Two

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Notes: Yes, I do know Roman Sionis is a bad guy. No, I do not care. Yes, I am absolutely simping over Evan McGreggors portrayal. Setting is not quite the Birds of Prey universe but Roman is definitely a criminal but not quite a sadistic crime lord like he is in the comics. Doni favor one shots? Yes I do, but this would be perhaps the longest one shot in history so it will be a chaptered story. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters.

Can’t Sleep, Can’t Breathe by Digital Daggers

The interrogation rooms were really as bleak as they seemed on tv, the room was almost too chilly to be comfortable. The table had endless graffiti carved into it, from dicks to swear words and one leg of her chair was short enough to make it so the chair rocked whenever she shifted her weight in it. There was no clock in the room but her watch told her that she had been waiting thirty minutes by the time the detectives finally entered carrying a file.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Black.”

Sure. Like they weren’t sitting on the other side of that two way mirror talking about her.

The two detectives sat down and looked at her for a minute before saying anything and they wore fake sympathetic smiles. She didn’t much like Ramirez or Craven; they gave off the vibe of being men who had only been promoted to detective because either there was no solid case against it or because their bosses wanted to be rid of them. Pass them along to another department rather than due to any stellar competency.

Craven looked like the type of man who spent more time in a dive bar than a gym and Ramirez had an air about him that suggested he thought he was smarter than everyone. The strongest of the weak.

“We’ll try not to keep you too long. We just need to ask a few questions to tie up a few loose ends.”

“Miss Black, does the name James Angeloff mean anything to you?”

She shook her head. “No, should it?”

“We’re investigating his murder.” One of the detectives, Ramirez, flipped open a file to show several crime scene and autopsy photos. It took every ounce of willpower for her to keep a neutral expression as though she’d never seen his face before. But she had. It was Jimmy. Jimmy from the club.

Jimmy, who she had shot. Jimmy who’s murder she had witnessed.

He spread out the photos, every grisly detail there to see. His body had a coke tone to it and he almost looked like a mannequin. “Fished him out of Gotham Bay three days ago. Whoever tossed him in, didn’t do a good enough job weighing him down. Bobbed right up like a tide buoy.”

She saw the bullet wounds and tried to keep her breathing steady and unaffected. A heavy weight dropped into her stomach.

“You alright Miss Black?”

She must have had a look on her face that she was unaware of. “Never seen a body before.” Liar. She’d seen enough crime shows to know that she needed to show a limited response to what she was seeing. “What’d he do?”

“Well, nothing that we know of. Trying to find out what’s been done to him.”

“I’m no detective but I would venture a guess he was shot.” They smirked at one another, their close mannerisms suggested that they’d had a long history together and were comfortable as partners.

“We should hire her.” Craven remarked while Ramirez chortled. She ignored the sarcastic joke, meant to insult her.

“James Angeloff has a lengthy criminal record but it’s mostly for petty crime. Low level drugs, breaking and entering, attempted assault. But nothing he’s ever done seems to fit with his injuries. He was shot three times in the heart at close range and once in the liver. The three to the heart killed him but honestly, whoever did him could have just stopped at one bullet and he would have died anyway.”

“My anatomy is sketchy, is the liver one of the ones you can live without?”

“Nope. That's why it’s called liver.” Har har. This guy should have been a comedian, then she could throw tomatoes.

“We’ve been retracing his steps in the days leading up to his disappearance and the last place he was spotted was a popular club called Masquerade Noir in the Bowery. Got him on camera at the entrance, the bar and at one of the employee entrances. Credit card receipts put him there along with a cab ride to the club and several witnesses IDed him.” The heavy weight in her stomach bottomed out and she felt sick again. Now was not the time to puke. “We also have you on the camera too, going through the same door not long after he did.”

Oh. Fuck.

They pulled a few photos of her at the bar and going through the employees only door. “Yeah, I was there. I didn’t see him though.”

“Ok, well would you mind telling us why you went into a popular club, didn’t drink and eventually went into the employee only area not fifteen minutes after our victim did?” There was a shift of Craven's voice with that question, this was the point in the conversation where it was made clear that she wouldn’t be leaving as quickly as she would have liked.

All good lies begin in truth.

“I went to the club looking for a man to help me get over my ex. We’ve been broken up for six months and he’s engaged. I was looking for someone to help me forget about him.” She was frank about it. Sexuality didn’t embarrass her and these two detectives weren’t going to make her feel bad for wanting a hookup. “I didn’t buy any drinks because not long after I got there, a guy I didn’t know started to follow me and he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Came on too strong?” There was Ramirez trying to play the good cop.

“Yeah, not really my type so I tried to ditch him. He kept following me and it kind of killed my night so I decided to duck into the back to hide from him.” Craven began to write down some notes, probably what she was saying despite the fact that their conversation was being recorded. “There wasn’t a window on the door and I got nervous that he'd seen me go into the back and get the wrong idea, so I went to leave out of one of the rear exits.”

“And you didn’t see our victim?”

She shook her head. “No.” They exchanged looks, “What?"

“Did you see anyone back there?”

Now she panicked a little, up until this point she hadn’t really lied about what happened. She’d left out some things, big difference. She didn’t know where the cameras in the back were, just that there were cameras but she felt fairly confident that there was no footage of her altercation as it would implicate Roman Sionis and he was too smart for that.

She felt shaken but fortunately before she had to answer the detective asked her another question.

“Do you know who owns Masquerade Noir?”

“Roman Sionis.”

“You know him?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Seen him in the papers plenty. Has quite the temper from what I read, if half of what the tabloids print are true.”

“But have you ever met him?”

“He caught me in the back of his club trying to find the exit.”

“How’d he take that?”

“He wasn’t happy. I got the feeling he probably thought I was snooping or stealing.”

“Were you?”

“No.” She paused and carefully extracted a partial truth out of their encounter. “I explained what was going on and then he let me leave.”

Neither detective looked very convinced and they exchanged glances again, then produced another photo of her getting into Romans car and Zsasz clearly at the wheel.

“Thing is, we also have video of you leaving the club and getting into Roman Sionis’s personal car leaving with his driver.”

“I asked for a ride, the guy was nice enough-“ Both men burst out laughing.

It was a solid two minutes of the men chuckling until one of them could speak again. “Do you know who his driver is?” He pulled out a mugshot of Zsasz. “His name is Victor Zsasz, and the only nice thing about him is that when we catch him again we’ll be throwing away the key.” The mama e behind his voice suggested a personal vendetta rather than a professional one.

True enough Zsasz had done hard time, his mugshot looked just like his expression that night. Bored. Irritated. His record was almost impressive and it seemed nothing was off limits to him.

Assault, kidnapping. Blackmail. Attempted murder. Witness intimidation. Murder. Arson. Zsasz was a busy boy.

“So, you want to try again? Tell me, why would someone like Roman Sionis care if someone like you gets home safely?”

The implication of his question caused her face to drop into a sour expression, and she dropped all pretense. The detective however, didn’t even look phased in fact, he almost seemed pleased.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed germs over her chest presenting her best ‘resting bitch face’.

“Look, you said this guy was a career criminal and he was shot to death probably by someone he pissed off. You know, it’s sad, it’s ugly but it’s not rocket science. He lives a life of crime and gets riddled with bullets, a nice little act of God taking him off the census. You really think the world stops turning just because we’re short a man like Jimmy Angeloff?”

“Jimmy?”

The detectives smiled at one another and a wave of heat flashed through her. “Got quite the chip on your shoulder, don’t you Miss Black?” It was Craven who made this observation.

“Shouldn’t hold it against her. Trauma can do that.” Ramirez countered clasping his hands on the table. He shook his head and then reached for another file.

“What trauma?” The room went silent for a moment as Belladonna found herself looking at a police file she knew very well. It was hers.

“You were the victim of a violent mugging a year ago, just outside your studio's office. Never found the guy, did they?” His tone bothered her, like he knew something about it and was trying to leverage that against her.

“That’s right. It was a year ago. I remember, I was there.” Her voice went cold. So cold, Ramirez and Craven straightened themselves a bit. “Broken orbital socket, broken nose, arm broken in two places, concussion, thrifty-three stitches from his butterfly knife.” The corner of her lip circled into a snarl as she looked at the laughably empty file.

“ I remember it like it was yesterday. Where were the two of you?” One of the detectives began to open his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “What I find highly interesting is that a low-level criminal gets a full investigation, there’s tons of camera footage, witness statements, and time stamps on his credit cards. But when I came out of my medically induced coma, which I almost didn’t survive, I only met with two beat cops for the laziest statement ever, and despite it happening on a street right outside the fashion district and a bank in broad daylight, you guys didn’t seem to find anything. No footage, and no witnesses even though I was screaming at the top of my lungs at rush hour. I guess it just proves that the only victim worth investigating is a dead one.” She slid the file away from her, not needing to see it anymore. “So, yeah, I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. A near-death experience will do that to you.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so sinister but the subject of her mugging was still a sore one for her and not something she liked to talk about on a good day. And she was especially irritated at having the unsolved assault thrown in her face. She’d had more sleepless nights than she could count, it had caused the turmoil with Jackson and arguably been the final nail in the coffin that had been their relationship.

“I’m sure this poor guys mother would like to know who killed her poor baby boy who just got mixed up with the wrong crowd but the fact is you won’t find someone who cares less about someone like him than someone like me. I’m not stupid and I know my rights. Unless I’m being detained, then you can’t hold me here, so you either book me or you let me go. Because I’m done answering your questions.”

A bit of wind was knocked out of them and it did take about thirty seconds before one of them broke the silence and they recovered quickly.

“Oh, are those our choices?” Ramirez looked to Craven. “What do we do? What do we do?”

“I know what I’d choose.”

“I choose ‘book you’.”

“On what charges?”

The detectives stood and began to gather papers but left her file. “Oh, how about obstruction? Interfering with a police investigation?”

“False reporting to the police is a class A misdemeanor. That could be up to three years jail time. Hell, we could make a case for lots of charges but the fact is, princess, that we can hold you for up to 48 hours without even charging you.”

Their smiles were the smiles of men who held too much power and they didn’t lose sleep over their misuse of it.

“Then I guess we don’t have anything else to talk about. And I’ll wait for a lawyer or my phone call.”

She held her hands out, wrists facing up with an expression that read No balls. Unfortunately, calling that particular bluff didn't work. And Ramerez indeed slapped a handcuff on her right wrist and then secured it to the ring on the table.

“Yeah, it may be a little while before you can make that call. Phones are down.”

“Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Enjoy your weekend.”

The door slammed and it took every ounce of willpower to not burst into tears. She knew they were standing on the other side of the window, watching her. Her chest heaved slow and steady breaths and she could do nothing, but panic internally.

She didn’t have a lawyer.

She didn’t have anyone she could call for any reason. When her job found out about this, she couldn’t imagine they’d be terribly understanding. She’d be fired. How in the hell had her life gone to absolute garbage in a week? How had she let any of this happen? She leaned forward, rested her head on the cold table, and closed her eyes.

Moral of the story? Don’t go clubbing. Just stay in and drink cheap booze and watch movies.

She had read something in a book or seen it on tv once that said “only a guilty person can lay their head down and rest when they’re in handcuffs.” Was she guilty? If stupidity was a crime she would hardly be at the FBIs top ten watch list but there was certainly a case to be made for her if naïveté was a crime. Then, yeah, she was probably in the top ten most wanted.

She replayed the events of that night over in her head and she couldn’t find a scenario where she didn’t end up screwed in some fashion or other. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.

She did not know what to do but a good start would be a phone call to one of the last people she wanted to speak with, her father. Everything was crashing down and despite the panic she was managing about her situation it was nothing compared to the outright fear that was coursing through her veins when she thought of Roman Sionis.

She tried to ignore the ice in her veins when she remembered his warning. As bad as it was, she knew it was probably about to get worse. Losing her job would be the least of her worries.

Would she have to leave Gotham? It was such a strange thought. Gotham was her home. And no matter how crappy a place it could be, there was something about being a Gothamite, you had a grit that few other people did. Not that she wanted that grit. In fact, she might have preferred an easier life but ‘easy’ and ‘Gotham’ were two words that didn’t really mix. Unless the sentence had to do with how easy it was to get screwed in Gotham.

The events of the week were catching up with her and she felt exhaustion settle in her bones. She just wanted to sleep; the room was cold, the table hard and the chair uncomfortable but she smirked in the knowledge that the detectives that she was certain were watching her weren’t getting their desired reaction. She was petty like that.

An hour later and the door swung open once more, it seemed as if they fixed their issue with the phones.

“You know, I once stayed in a bed and breakfast like this.” She muttered before looking up. She was surprised when she didn’t see two detectives but a tall man in a gray three piece suit looking at her with an unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Who’re you?”

“Detectives, can we remove the handcuffs from the hundred and twenty pound girl?”

“Hundred and fifty.” She corrected, though no one seemed to hear it.

The detectives walked in and with very unhappy looks on their faces and one unlocked the cuffs from her wrist. He sneered at her and shook his head.

“Looks like you've got some friends in high places, Miss Black.” His voice dripped with disdain. He wasn’t pleased and he didn’t bother hiding it.

“Now if you are through with harassing my client, she’s had a very long day and will be returning home. If you have any other questions for her she will only be responding through my office and with myself present. Miss Black?”

Thoroughly confused but not stupid enough to sit around and ask questions, she got up and left the room grabbing her bag on the way out. There wasn't a single police officer or detective who wasn’t glaring at them as they made their way out of the precinct.

The surprises continued as they stepped onto the pavement and a black Bentley was pulled up to the curb with a driver in a black suit and tie ushering them inside. She hesitated, uncertain of whether or not she was meant to accept the ride but when the door remained open and both men looked at her with an expectant look she slid in and the door shut behind her. The car pulled off from the curb and off they drove, to where she wasn’t sure.

The lawyer was on his phone texting someone, and he didn’t say a word for a few minutes. Finally he looked up at her and sighed.

“So, Miss Black from here on out if the police contact you or you see them lurking around you’re to call my office immediately.” He handed her an embossed business card that reminded her of the movie American Psycho. “The cops are not your friends to begin with and it doesn’t sound like you made friends there so let’s keep them as far away as we possibly can.”

“Who are you?”

“Derrick Monoghan. I’m your lawyer.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m ninety nine percent certain that your jacket alone costs more than I make in a year so you do understand that I probably can’t pay you, right?”

He chuckled and went back to looking at his phone. “You needn’t worry about my fee, it’s handled. I’m to be your legal counsel until this matter is settled.”

“Who hired you? Who even knows about this?”

He looked up at her with an incredulous look. “I think you know.” She didn’t say anything but kept his stare. “I’ve been retained by Mr. Roman Sionis.” She dropped her head into a hand and groaned. “Problem?”

“I have a headache.” He chuckled. “Although something tells me that a headache is about to be the least of my problems.”

“Whatever do you mean?” She looked up and drew a finger across her neck. “Being a little overly dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Can you give me a reason not to be?”

“My retainer fee is 80k, Miss Black.” Yeah, more than she made in a year and then some. “Now if Mr. Sionis wanted you dead, not saying that he does, he wouldn’t have paid my retainer fee in the first place.”

“Yeah, how did you know I was even there?” He tapped his eyes and ears. “So, what happens now?”

“I’ve been instructed to take you home. My office will be in touch to go over our strategy for the investigation.”

“And?”

“And I imagine Mr. Sionis will be in touch with you soon.” The car pulled to a stop in front of her apartment, “We’ve reached your building Ms. Black.”

She was still a bit dumbfounded. As she stepped out of the car looking at her newly retained lawyer “What do I do now?”

“Go to work, do your job, live your life and keep your head down. No more chats with the police although I think you already know that. My office will be in touch.”

She had barely stepped onto the curb when the car drove off. “Ok…”

Dissociation was a hell of a thing. She should have been a mess of sobs and panic but instead she was oddly calm, it was as though a wall surrounded her in all her interactions but nothing really touched her yet. Like the reactions were simply buffering. Real world lag. She knew it would hit later and hit hard. The best she could hope for was that she would be blissfully alone when it did.

Everyone has ‘that chair’ in their place no matter how rich or poor they are. Her purse was haphazardly tossed onto it as she untucked the black blouse she was wearing. Simply going through the motions line she would have any other night, she was about to slip her blouse off when the silence was shattered.

“That was quite a performance.” She jumped and spun around to see something, a figure, leaning against her bedroom window. The faint red flow of a cigarette and tendrils of smoke surrounding him. Before she could ask who he was or scream, he stepped out of the darkness and his familiar face came into view.

Roman Sionis.

A black suit this time, simple with no accents, shirt unbuttoned slightly and a cigarette between his lips, how she hadn’t noticed the smoke really showed just how out of it she was. Just as imposing as he had been a week ago, although considerably calmer. The room suddenly felt very small and she took a step back, a bit surprised when he didn’t take one forward.

“You.” She scrambled to button up her shirt again half turning her back to him.

“Me.” He took a drag of the smoke and held it in his lungs for a minute before blowing it out. Christ she wanted a cigarette. “We need to talk.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She immediately offered, holding her hands out instinctually. “Nothing they couldn’t find out on their own.

“Oh, yes, I heard all about your little standoff with Gotham's finest. Wish I’d have seen it, but I’ll settle for a secondhand account. I must say, I’ve never seen a woman offer to be put into handcuffs outside the bedroom.” He snickered and the shocked look on her face, how had he known that? He took the cigarette from his lips and tapped the ashes onto the floor, not caring where they landed.

“You know I didn’t say anything then what do you want?”

“Well, kitten, our situation has changed and things have become a little more complicated. So we need to have a discussion on what happens now.” She didn’t like how that sounded and the concern must have flashed on her face because he continued. “We need to talk about us.”

“Us?” She echoed, swallowing hard and crossing her arms over her chest. “Last I was aware, there was no us. Aside from the ‘us that agreed not to say anything about last week.’”

He chuckled now, “I’ve been watching you all week and I have to say, I’m surprised, haven’t seen you break down once. You just went on with your life as though you’d never seen three men shot to death in front of you. Made me wonder, what kind of woman watches a murder and doesn’t flinch?”

“Guess you missed the show in the shower, I take it.”

He chuckled again and finally took that step forward, “Are you offering an encore?” His voice was low and had that same hard edge to it. Equal parts danger and intrigue, she didn’t respond to his question. “If it will put your fears to bed, I have no desire to harm you, not right now anyway.”

“How reassuring.” He raised a brow, then tilted his head.

“As it happens, harming you would only cause problems. So, let’s talk.” He turned and walked to her living room, the sound of his footsteps growing farther away. He briefly looked to her window and before she could even complete the thought, he called “And don’t bother with the fire escape. Zsasz is watching it.”

She followed him out into her living room and watched him with suspicion as he went straight to the cabinet that she kept her Alcohol. He was looking through the bottles, silently critiquing her drinking habits. He seemed unimpressed at a twelve year whiskey but then shrugged and took a drink straight from the bottle. It seemed to satisfy him so he grabbed a glass and some ice, it was hard to ignore just how comfortable he was in her home.

“Oh, please. Stop looking at me like I’m the boogie man. I’m not going to bite you.”

“Yeah, but will you shoot me?”

He raised a brow and smirked, “I won’t bite.” It was probably meant to be funny and put her at ease but she looked equally irritated and nervous. “You know, when I said hurting you wasn’t an option, I should have clarified: it’s not my wisest option but it’s still very much an option.” He looked at her with narrowed eyes over his whiskey, then nudged a glass towards her, “It’s rude to refuse a drink.”

She took the glass and glanced at him quickly before taking a swig. “Ok, so what are we talking about?”

“Why our future, of course.”

“I’m a little more concerned with the present.”

“Fair enough, here’s where our present sits: as of right now the GCPD is in the possession of three bodies in their morgue. Seems my cleanup crew was a little lax about finishing up and let’s just say mistakes were made and people.. held accountable.” There was a hard set to his jaw and the smile that he wore suggested deadly consequences. “And while Gotham’s finest don’t give a damn about those bodies, they do give a damn about their suspect. Can you guess who that is?” She held out her hand and gestured to him. He sucked in a dramatic breath and shook his head. “Close! But wrong.” He smirked over his glass as her eyes grew wider.

“Wait. I’m a suspect?” He smiled, pleased that she was seeing the gravity of her situation. “Why the hell am I a suspect? I didn’t do anything?”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled deeply at her now, “Is that what you think? Last I checked it was you who started blowing holes in my employee…”

“Th-That was self defense!”

“Is that what you kids are calling it these days? Hmm, well, A jury might believe you.” With his glass empty he poured another. “Maybe not. Seems to me that if you honestly thought you were innocent, you would have gone straight to the police.”

“Are you serious? I seem to remember something about removing my face like a cheap Halloween mask if I even so much as talked to my cat!”

“Discount. Not cheap.” Her jaw dropped at his sheer nerve. “Don’t misquote me.”

“You threatened me!”

“Yes, I did, kitten.” He was clearly enjoying her gobsmacked look. “Point is, you were most certainly in the wrong place at the wrong time and the police have footage of my club floors where you do indeed disappear through an employees only entrance and you are next seen leaving my club in my private car about half an hour later. Looks very suspicious.”

“And they honestly think I had something to do with-!” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. “There’s more isn’t there?”

“Benjamin for the smart woman. I’m also spotted on camera going into the back with Zsasz and the cameras in the back miraculously malfunction for thirty minutes. And the cameras also happen to catch our friend, Jimmy going into the back. One big happy party.”

She killed her drink and realized she needed something a little harder to take the edge of. Her feet on autopilot carried her towards a drawer in her kitchen. She dug around, pulling out a small metal case with hand rolled joints. Slightly shaky hands plucked one up and struggled with the lighter, the damn thing must have been low on butane. Roman sighed and walked over, pulling out his own lighter and offering it in an almost gentlemanly manner.

“So, the cops jump to conspiracy to commit murder instead of, what? A gangbang? That’s a first.” A grin slowly grew across his lips at her statement, she didn’t miss it. “Ok.” One hand on her temple, the headache was still reminding her it was there but it would soon dissipate from the effects of the cannabis, unlike her present situation. “So, you’re here because killing me is more trouble than it’s worth, but you’re still willing to do it?” He gave a dark nod. “Great, so you’re not killing me because you’d rather be lazy.”

“I prefer to think of it as the path of least resistance.”

She had no reason to believe that what she wanted would sway his mind in any way, but she really didn’t have any options. She decided to be Frank, hoping a blunt approach would make this easier. “I don’t want to die."

“And I don’t want to go back to prison.” She swallowed hard, she hadn’t realized that Roman had done time too. “Black gate isn’t exactly the Gotham Ritz. So, this is our dilemma.”

“You mean, you won’t remove my face and I won’t rat you out to the police and instead we’ll try to get away with a triple homicide like civilized people?”

“You’re life and my freedom. We can both cause one another significant trouble, so, let’s work together on this until the investigation gets cold and ultimately forgotten.”

“How long till an investigation goes cold?”

“Until something more interesting happens. In Gotham, that could be a few days or a few months, maybe a few years.”

She wasn’t wild about the concept of being involved with Roman Sionis for a few weeks, let alone years. She hopped up to sit on the counter and took another drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a minute before exhaling with a slight cough. She wasn’t sure why the gesture struck her but in the moment they seemed less enemies and more mutual acquaintances and she held out the half smoked joint to him. His gaze flickered from her neutral expression to her extended hand and after a quiet moment of contemplation, he reached out, taking the cigarette and inhaling deeply.

“You know, I could get you some better stuff.”

She scoffed, “I’d like to keep my crimes to a minimum, thanks.”

Roman Sionis was in her apartment, agreeing not to kill her, trying to come up with a solution that benefited them both, and he was smoking her pot, offering to get her better stuff. Weird.

“What’s the big question we have to answer to the cops?”

Roman leaned against the counter she was sitting on, “I believe the question is, what were we doing in the back and why did neither of us see what happened to Jimmy?”

“All good lies begin in truth.” She muttered, staring at a fixed point on the wall. Roman turned his head slowly with an amused expression.

“Miss Black, you ought to be careful, that sounds like something a criminal would say.” He was teasing her, “But you make a good point. So, what were we doing in the back of my club?” His grin broadened.

“Sometimes the simplest explanation is the best one.” He didn’t say anything but instead, waited for her to notice he was staring at her, “Why did I go out in the first place?” She finally faced him, a little put off by the intensity of his stare. “Sex.” His grin turned into a wolfish leer and her chest heaved in an exasperated sigh. “I told the cops as much, I wanted to find a guy to lose some sleep with to help me forget about my ex.”

Roman began to nod slowly, “A tale as old as time.” He turned to face her and gave her one of those long looks that made her feel like he was undressing her with his eyes, although he probably was. “So, when next we meet with the police it’s as simple as I caught you in the back of my club, someplace you shouldn’t have been and you regaled me with your tale of woe. The creep who stalked you and how you were just trying to escape an unwanted encounter. I bet you would be all apologies and offering to leave immediately, wouldn’t you?”

That did sound like her, she wasn’t one to shy away from confrontation unless she was absolutely in the wrong and the scenario they were concocting definitely fit. “So, you’re pissed at me for snooping. What changes your mind?”

He got off the counter and stood in front of her as she too slipped off the counter and caged her in place with one arm on each side of her. “It’s hard to stay mad at a gorgeous woman in a minidress. I’m a man, kitten, why else would I change my mind?” He leaned as though he were sharing secrets only she was privy to. “We’re going to tell the police how I charmed you into that storage room and killed the cameras so that no one else would be looking in on our private party.” He was uncomfortably close but she couldn't bring herself to hate it. Quite the opposite, his body heat radiated off in seductive waves and she could smell his cologne, damn it smelled good. “What do you suppose happens next?”

She understood where this was going now and nodded in agreement, “A little back of the house fun between strangers.” she murmured at his grin, she realized she wasn’t really afraid of him now. The lawyer was right, if he wanted to kill her, why would he even be talking to her? Now he just seemed like a guy, a rich guy with a flair for the dramatic but a guy. Maybe it was the cannabis induced calm drifting over her combined with the whiskey.

“Oh, kitten,” his chest rumbled again with that chuckle if his and his eyes grew darker. “I like how your mind works.” His eyes locked with hers.

“Why not just throw me out? Aren’t women lining up to throw themselves at you?”

“I’ve got a revolving door of women who throw themselves at me.” He confirmed without hesitation, “You know how many girls I get in the club like you?” She shook her head, not sure where he was going with this question. “I get party girls who’ll drop to their knees on command to suck a dick for some attention and free drinks. Late thirty somethings desperate to feel young and hot again who’ll take any attention I give them in exchange for whatever depraved acts I can think of. Women with more plastic in them than a goddamned Barbie doll. I’m not interested in women who aren’t interested in me and while you’re interested in me and make no mistake, you are, I’m not a quickie type of man.” It sounded like he was complimenting her, the whole not like the other girls cliche was still a cliche but it was comforting in a way.

The shock in her face brought that same smile back to his lips, a hungry smile. She didn’t realize her mouth hung slightly agape at the crassness of his words and she wasn’t sure if he was talking about their improvised series of events or reality.

“What?”

“If I told you to be a good girl and suck my cock, what would you say?”

Her eyebrows shot up and she scoffed, “You mean, what would I say if I hadn’t seen you execute three men?” He nodded once. “I’d probably tell you to fuck your own face.” He laughed, a genuine body rocking laugh.

“That's funny.” When the chuckle died down he nodded and continued. “Can you guess how many women I’ve fucked in the back of my club?” The sudden shift in his language brought back the hard edge to him that had initially scared her, but now it was a little… exciting. That seemed so wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She could only shake her head. “None.” Shock colored her face. “Fact is, despite some of my extracurricular activities,” Murder. “I run a clean operation. Everything about my club is 100% legitimate. That's the only reason I didn’t hike up your red mini dress and fuck you against the wall right then and there”

Again, she wasn’t sure if he was talking about what actually happened or their imagined scenario.

“Not a quickie type of man, huh?” Roman licked his lips and smiled broadly.

She was still recovering from the initial shock of his 180 in mood, “Oh, kitten, I take my time with women. After a half hour, we’d only be getting started. I can be very insatiable.” His tone dropped and his words hung in the air between them.

Roman Sionis was a killer. She’d seen it. And he kept company with men like Zsasz who’s lengthy criminal record she had seen firsthand. But he was a businessman and this was a business transaction. Nothing more. And one that allowed her to keep her head. And there were certainly worse devils to make deals with.

For all the tabloids Roman Sionis had graced with stories of his outrageous tantrums, he was at least a handsome devil. A really handsome devil.

“So, if you’re not a quickie type of man, what did we do?”

One of his hands brushed her hair out of her face and he lifted her chin slightly. “Think you can pull this off, kitten?” He was looking hard at her now, like there was a flash of uncertainty on his part, maybe he was contemplating changing his mind. “Think you can look the police in the eye and lie to them? Say that you never saw Jimmy? That you let all your common sense go out the window and let a man like me touch you? Think you can pull off innocent?”

At his last word, she scoffed loudly, shaking her head. “You know what living in Gotham all my life has taught me?” He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Nobody’s innocent.”

“That’s beautiful, I need that on a shirt.”

“Think you can pull this off?”

“Of course I can.”

“Because you’re Roman freaking Sionis?”

“Because I’m Roman freaking Sionis, baby.”

A steely look came over her face, one that he hadn’t seen. He was visibly shocked when she seized the front of his shirt and jerked him forward. “Well, I’m Belladonna fucking Black. And I give as good as I get.” Without another second she pulled him down and crushed her lips against his. There wasn’t much more to say after that, Roman only took about ten seconds to react groaning against her mouth as she bit his lip and sucked on his tongue.

Her advantage of surprise didn’t last long as she was quickly finding out that Roman wasn’t all talk and teasing. The man could kiss and he was quick to establish a hungry lead pulling her flush against him, his left hand gripping her neck, his other hand groping up her back. The clasp on the bra was quickly snapped with a well-practiced finesse and she felt slack on her chest, and a warm hand pushed the cup of her bra up.

Fuck it had been a minute since she’d been touched like that, and she’d forgotten just how good it felt. She didn’t do anything to stifle the moan Roman swallowed when she felt his thumb work circles over her hard nipple and she arched against him. He chuckled against her mouth, then broke the seal their lips had made, moving down her neck, making sure to leave proof he had been there. Sucking hard against the skin, the sound of her labored breathing music to his ears.

“Use your hands, kitten.”

She released the death grip she’d had on his shirt as it hard turned from a surprise grab to an anchor and she was holding on for dear life. When she untucked his shirt and raked her nails down his stomach his muscles flexed, and he hissed as little red marks began to appear. Between her hands working his belt and her tongue forcing its way back into his mouth again he let loose a sound of pleasure and his hips ground against hers.

He growled against her lips and a hand tangled into her black tresses, a firm, sharp tug separated their lips. He bucked against her hand when she palmed his hardening cock through his slacks, petting him.

“Kitten.” His breathing was shallow and hot against her lips. The tone of his voice was low and it was impossible to deny or ignore the excitement.

A sudden vibrating ring from his pants pocket had him snarling, it went on for a minute as he tried to ignore it. “Who the fuck is that?” She grumbled against his mouth in a similar frustration.

Another ring and he wrenched his mouth from hers and pulled a phone from his pocket. “What?” He snarled into the phone, she could hear a voice on the other end but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She did recognize the frustration in his voice as he responded to the call, “Fine, bring the car around. I’ll be right there.” No goodbye as he hung up the phone.

He quickly went about tucking in his shirt and fixing the buttons she’d undone, finally straightening his collar all the while eyeing her hungrily. She fixed her bra, unable to look away as he finished buckling his belt.

“I have to go, I’ll be in touch. Answer your phone when I call.”

She nodded, not bothering to ask how she would know it was him, and took a step towards the door, only to be stopped by Roman’s arm around her waist pulling her up against him for one more commanding kiss. When he let her go, he spoke.

“That, kitten, is what we did in the back of my club.”

The door opened and closed quickly and he was gone.

“Fuck.”

Moral of the story: when collaborating to make an alibi involving sex, you’re probably going to end up having sex.

Thre

#i have too many stories #original character #romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis smut #roman sionis #black mask #original female character #18+ content #18+ only #shadows of deception #fanfiction is life #fake relationship #original characer #close proximity #slightly toxic #power imbalance #medium burn romance #belladonna fucking black #belladonna black #roman sionis toxic love fangirl club #black mask smut #black mask fanfiction #roman sionis x original female character #simping #dc #dc fandom #dc birds of prey #there will be smut #romansionissmut #dark romance

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter Six

Shadows of Deception

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Chapter Six

I Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet

In the bustling fashion house, the air was thick with anticipation and energy as fashion week began. The studio was a whirlwind of activity, with creatives and professionals of various disciplines coming together to bring their artistic visions to life so that the wealthy could dress in opulence. Wardrobe stylists rushed around, carefully selecting garments and accessories, while hairdressers and makeup artists worked their magic, transforming models into ethereal beings. Cinematographers set up their equipment, capturing every detail with precision. Designers fine-tuned their creations, ensuring they were flawlessly presented for the cameras.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Belladonna managed to remain calm and collected as she went from meeting to meeting, and project to project juggling a myriad of tasks all without a hair out of place. Dressed as stylishly as the models she photographed yet infinitely more practical, with fitted black, ripped jeans instead of the long and flowing dresses and skirts and a white sleeveless blouse instead of cropped fashion tops. Her black-heeled boots echoed her determined steps in a stark contrast to the stiletto heels the models wore, while the blazer jacket added a touch of sophistication to her look and the camera in her hand set her apart from the models she directed. Her hair was swept back into a no-nonsense high ponytail, setting her apart from the endlessly tousled, teased, styled, and colored hair.

Belladonna's attention had been completely absorbed by the tasks at hand, her mind fully immersed in the creative process. There was no greater distraction from a personal life than the furious storm that was Fashion Week. The sound of her phone buzzing in her bag went unnoticed from the moment she stepped into the studio and the storm enveloped her. 

With hundreds of photographs in, countless wardrobe changes, and dozens of models in a variety of poses and backdrops, she’d also sauntered effortlessly through at least four meetings over the shows she would be covering that week and had a stack of other projects to edit before sending them off. Checking her phone for missed calls or text messages was the last thing on Belladonna’s mind, it may as well have not even existed at all in the nebulous void that was her purse somewhere in her office. Its pings and rings went unchecked for almost six hours.

After a phone call that really could have been an email, Belladonna was off to her next engagement, which consisted of getting caught up on the rest of the afternoon with Daisy.

“Alright, Belladonna, here's what the afternoon looks like after we break for lunch. You've got the Coltless show at two o'clock, Ramier specifically asked for you, I think he wants to take you to dinner, but you’ll need a good reason to avoid that so I’d start thinking of one now, the man doesn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer. I’ve got your change of clothes for the show in your office; I managed to get that jacket you wanted from Miccah’s storehouse but I couldn’t get the boots.” She didn’t care about the boots now, she groaned inwardly at how she would avoid another dinner invite from Ramier. Daisy was right, he didn’t like being told no, Belladonna briefly thought back to another man who matched that MO… Least Roman was better looking.

“Your passes for the show are on your desk and the car is picking you up for it at one o’clock so not a ton of time to eat before the show, so I grabbed you something quick,” Daisy handed her a small styrofoam take-out box, she hadn’t even thought of food but was happy to see a few eggrolls and some pad-tai. “After the show, you’re meeting with Santoni for drinks about tomorrow’s shoot. We’ve got the space rented in the Bowery and you need to be there by six before it gets too warm also because we only have the space for four hours, his assistant double booked with someone else that’s why the rush. And you have reservations tonight for one more meeting at seven with the editor of Runway magazine, I managed to get the meeting set for that Thai place you like and if all goes well you should be home by ten, but honestly, you know how this week goes, these meetings take forever so I’ve blocked out an hour after each one in case it runs long. Best case scenario you don’t get caught off guard, worst case you’ve got a little downtime in between each one.” 

Belladonna nodded as she looked through a printout of her schedule Daisy had given her, finding it easier to absorb information when she could both see it and hear it.

“Is that Roman Sionis?”

It was this curious inquiry that shattered the bubble of concentration that Belladonna had enveloped herself in. The fashion house around her continued its chaotic flow but for Belladonna the world stopped and she was suddenly hyper-aware of every little detail as though time slowed.

The mention of Roman Sionis threw her off her focus, freezing her in her tracks. With a subtle shift, she caught sight of Roman and Zsasz, standing amidst the buzzing crowd. She could feel his piercing gaze, like a spotlight used to illuminate escaped prisoners, it made her feel so exposed. Despite her attempt to remain composed, she knew deep down that Roman had probably seen her spot him, how could he not? He was the type of man who, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he had eyes in the back of his head. He simply knew everything that was happening around him, constantly aware.

Her mind raced, her thoughts colliding with the surge of emotions within her. She hadn’t seen Roman since the other night at his club, and she felt a rush of heat when she remembered their encounter. Grappling with conflicting desires – to confront Roman and demand an explanation or to maintain her cool facade and carry on with her work. The air around her seemed to crackle with anticipation as she weighed her options, aware that her next move could have far-reaching consequences.

The room thrummed with activity. Amidst the growing murmur of Roman’s name circulating through the studio, Belladonna remained focused on her work, determined to maintain her professionalism in the midst of the mounting distractions. 

As the studio chatter reached a crescendo, a hush fell over the room as deliberate footsteps drew nearer. Belladonna could feel the pull of Roman's presence, his aura demanding her attention. 

When Belladonna finally turned to face Roman, she looked the epitome of composure but was inwardly shaking. His expression, was perfectly pleasant, despite sensing a hint of irritation in his expression, well-concealed beneath his suave exterior. Something was clearly on his mind, and brushing him off until later was not going to be an option.

“Hello, Angel.” The air went still for Belladonna but she swallowed and offered Roman a smile. “I know you’re busy but afraid I need a moment of your time,” 

Daisy’s shocked expression bounced back and forth between Roman and Belladonna like a game of rapid-fire ping pong. She still held Belladonna's datebook and her mouth was only slightly agape but it was enough for Belladonna to realize that she had to make some sort of introduction. 

“Daisy, meet Roman Sionis.” Her introduction felt slightly robotic but it was the first thing that leaped to mind, “Roman, my assistant, Daisy Monroe.” 

“So lovely to meet you, Miss Monroe,” Roman, ever the showman, shook her hand politely and smiled an award-winning smile, seemingly genuinely pleased to be where he was. “My Angel here has told me about you, tell me, how’s your brother doing? Is he out of the hospital yet?” Belladonna hid her shock well by biting the inside of her cheek. Daisy, however, seemed perfectly charmed.

She had never told Roman about Daisy’s brother, the one who over a week ago had been attacked in the advanced treatment facility in Arkham. Hadn’t told him her brother had a concussion, or that he’d been so badly beaten he needed to be extracted by helicopter. 

“He- he’s good. He’s out of intensive care and his vitals are looking good,” she seemed a little confused as to why one of the wealthiest men in Gotham was a king about her brother as if he was personally invested. 

“That’s wonderful. We need more men like him in those hospitals.” A cold chill crept up her back but she fought back the urge to demand answers and instead went with the flow of conversation. “Such a dangerous job.”

“It’s really so nice to meet you. I’ve heard such great things about your club, I’m dying to check it out.”

“Well, Miss Monroe I'd be delighted to put your name on the VIP list. Just let me know when you'd like to come, and I'll make sure you're well taken care of.”

“I will, but it’ll probably have to wait until after Fashion Week.” Daisy exchanged a look with Belladonna and then back to Roman, “So, how do you two know each other?” She had a look like she was about to sniff out the juiciest gossip and she was eagerly waiting for the answer.

“Has my angel not said anything?” He feigned shock so well… “Well, I suppose we don’t need to keep it quiet anymore. Belladonna and I met at my club a few weeks ago and we’ve been seeing each other, wanted to keep things quiet for a little bit, you understand,” His tone sounded so casual that she almost believed the circumstances that surrounded their meeting were really that simple. Daisy nodded emphatically, completely understanding the desire for discretion. “She put quite the spell on me it seems, I simply couldn’t keep away.”

Daisy's playful curiosity jumped from the charming enigma that was Roman Sionis and quickly settled on Zsasz’s imposing figure as he loomed behind Roman. 

"And who is this tall, dark, and brooding?"

Roman, always the suave conversationalist, grinned and replied, "Ah, Daisy, this is Victor Zsasz, a close associate of mine. He takes care of certain... matters for me." His tone held a hint of mystery. “He does the dirty work…”

Daisy seemed intrigued by the enigmatic figure. "Oh, I see. A man of mystery, huh?" Zsasz flashed a playful wink at her.

Roman chuckled, enjoying the exchange. "You could say that. He's a man of many talents." Roman turned to Belladonna and held her gaze for a long moment, as though trying to convey a silent message. "Angel, spare a few minutes for me?" His voice was thick and heavy, hard to resist on a good day, shame it was fake. 

With a polite excuse, Belladonna gestured for Roman to follow her into a more private area of the fashion house. As they walked away, she whispered to Roman, 

"You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, don't you?"

Roman couldn't hide a mischievous grin. "Darling, sometimes a bit of drama adds some spice to life, doesn't it?"

As though the whole thing was an everyday occurrence, one of the wealthiest and most desirable men in Gotham was asking for her time. She nodded and led him down a hall and into one of the smaller unused conference rooms that wasn’t covered in photos, articles, and design samples. Satisfied that they would be both undisturbed but at the same time not completely alone. The room's large windows provided a clear line of sight to anyone who might walk nearby.

Belladonna's heart quickened as Roman's demeanor took on a darker edge as soon as the door clicked shut. Contrasting sharply with his typically charismatic persona, the mask fell. The unfamiliar intensity in his eyes caught her off guard, reminding her of the dangerous man she had encountered that fateful night they first crossed paths. It was a side of Roman she rarely witnessed, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t leave her hair standing on end.

Roman guided her forcefully into a chair and he sauntered along, coming to stand behind her. His hands slid up her arms in a gentle caress before coming to rest on her shoulders. Belladonna couldn’t help but feel a twinge of vulnerability at Roman’s position behind her, their close proximity creating a deceptive image of intimacy. The unobstructed windows of the conference room didn’t seem to concern Roman, he treated it like a stage. Serving as a reminder that their interactions must remain composed and devoid of any overtly explicit behavior, despite the charged atmosphere that hung between them.

His hands moved up her neck to her ponytail and with what she suspected was a well-rehearsed maneuver he grasped the black elastic band that held her professional look together and tugged it loose. Her black silky hair fell over her shoulders and his fingers combed through it in complete silence, he seemed to be reveling in the feel of her hair slipping through his fingers. Sometimes the strands would catch on his fingers but he worked the tiny tangled out and continued the oddly intimate gesture several times before he seemed satisfied with his work. He leaned down, seemingly to plant a kiss on her neck, his words cut through the air with a menacing tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Her unease was palpable as she struggled to maintain her composure.

 "Who the fuck do you think you are ignoring me, angel?" he hissed, each word dripping with a mixture of frustration and anger.

Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, Belladonna mustered the courage to defend herself, though her fear remained evident in her voice. She kept her view straight, looking right out the window of the conference room in the event someone walked by. Knowing if things turned violent, it was her only way to call for help. His hands combed through her hair again before gathering her hair into his fist, it jerked her head back slightly and pulled on her scalp. 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I've been working," Her words laced with a hint of defiance. "Contrary to what you may believe, you are not the center of the universe."

He jerked her head forcing her to look up at him over her shoulder, his piercing gaze bore into her, searching for any sign of deception. She quickly added, "Besides, my phone is in my bag. I haven't even touched it since I got in six hours ago." The truth hung in the air, their confrontation rooted in a misunderstanding fueled by Roman's possessive nature and her commitment to her work.

Belladonna's heart raced as she awaited Roman's response, unsure of how he would react to her explanation or the sharp attitude that accompanied it. The room was stifling, the unresolved tension threatening to consume them both.

Slowly wrapping her long hair around his fist. The discomfort was a stark reminder of the power discrepancy between them, an attempt to assert his control over her. Yet, she refused to show any sign that he was getting to her, her eyes meeting him with a resolute determination.

His question lingered in the air, a challenge veiled within the depths of his voice. 

"Are you lying to me, angel?"

As her lips parted to answer his question it became clear he wasn’t looking for an actual answer. Before she could utter a single word, he descended upon her, claiming her mouth in a kiss that felt more like a declaration of power than an act of affection.

It was uncomfortable and hard, almost painful, a reminder of his ability to bend her to his will. Behind her stoic expression, Belladonna struggled to remain composed, the power play of his kiss did have an effect on her. As their lips parted, she answered him with unwavering honesty, her voice a bit breathless. 

"No, I'm not. I've been here since six. And I'll more than likely be here until late tonight for the rest of the week."

Roman's eyes delved into her soul as if searching for any hint of deception, it reminded her of a lion before it pounced. The room was charged with the weight of their connection palpable as they engaged in this battle of wills.

At last, the tension began to dissipate as Roman's demeanor shifted and his scowl softened. His satisfaction with her response was evident in his expression, his presence now both comforting and alluring. Belladonna's heart skipped a beat as she felt his lips against hers again, but this time, it was a more sensual kiss, one that was meant to be pleasurable and it was. Sweet and searing, he gently coaxed her mouth open and stroked her tongue with his, and his grip on her hair loosened allowing for the black strands to slip through his fingers.

"I believe you, angel," Roman murmured, his voice infused with admiration and intrigue. He reveled in the effect he had on her. "You make a man nervous, ignoring his calls and texts," he confessed, his tone soft and smooth, carrying a hint of vulnerability, she wasn’t sure if it was genuine or not. It certainly sounded that way. 

“I’m sorry.” Her reply was still breathy and meek, and it was only after the words left her lips she wondered what the hell she was apologizing for, her sense of self-preservation had clearly won out against any outrage she felt.

Roman's hand gently caressed her hair, his touch lingering as it glided down the back of her head and neck, and her jaw. A tender sigh escaped him, and he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re forgiven, Angel. But don’t let it happen again," his words laden with possessiveness, she nodded against his lips. 

“Pick up the phone when daddy calls.”

"So, what do you need?" She asked, trying to stay on topic as if this whole interaction hadn’t both shaken her and turned her on. "What was so important you had to come here and interrupt my day?" 

Determined to steer the conversation back to the purpose of Roman's visit, she stood up from the chair, breaking free from him, her irritation clear on her face. She needed to put some space between them, needed to get away from him just a little bit or at least make it so that she wasn’t craning her neck to look up at him. Roman's smile widened, relishing in her spirit and tenacity. He followed her, his amusement and fascination evident in his eyes.

"I love your spirit, angel,"

 He watched her closely, enjoying the way she cowered under him one minute and challenged him the next, as though she had better things to do than entertain his interruptions.

"What?" She demanded once again, her anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface, her patience wearing thin as Roman continued to evade her initial question. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Sensing her growing anger, and understanding that he could only push her so far, he relented. His tone softened ever so slightly. "You didn’t answer my question, kitten," he stated simply, voice smooth as velvet, his use of the nickname signaling a shift in their conversation. When it was Belladonna it was all business, Angel seemed to indicate a good mood or they were in public. But kitten? Well, it still meant a good mood. 

Belladonna's anger momentarily gave way to curiosity, her expression softening as she considered his words. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Fine," she conceded, her voice laced with a mix of resignation and curiosity. "What was your question, Roman?" Maybe it had something to do with the investigation. Maybe it was urgent? 

“Were you thinking about me last night?” He asked in that dangerously seductive voice. “Somewhere in the area of,” he paused to look at his watch “Two in the morning?”

Belladonna's expression shifted from shock to a hint of embarrassment then disbelief. She attempted to regain her composure, but her emotions were evident on her face. Roman, thoroughly entertained by her reaction, chuckled deeply, relishing in the power he held over her.

"That's what was so important for you to storm into the studio to terrorize me?" Her tone held a hard edge of outrage at his audacity. 

He really did live in his own little world.

“Oh, kitten, terrorize you?” His chuckle reverberated deeply. “I might have been a little intense but I think terrorizing is a bit of a stretch, don’t you?” Her jaw dropped, unable to believe him and she turned sharply on her heels to leave him, too angry to face him. His grip on her upper arm prevented her from doing so as he pulled her back to him into another powerful kiss, tongue easily snaking past her lips in a dizzying display of power. “I think you’re too stubborn to admit that you liked how I kissed you,” He did it again, hot tongue forcing its way into her mouth once more, this time with less resistance. His voice was between a snarl and growl, a blend of the two aggressive sounds that went straight to her pussy. “You liked having your hair wrapped around my fist,” With each display of power she could feel the outrage leaving her little by little. “Liked being at my mercy, you liked being a little afraid of me, didn’t you?” His teeth nipped at her lips with a final kiss. “Should we check?” His gaze drifted from her mouth down the blouse she was wearing and settled, he shifted his grip on her hips, his thumbs tucking into the waistband, close to the closure on her jeans. “I wonder just how wet you are, angel…” Fuck. 

“Roman, please!” She whispered harshly against him. 

“Please, what, kitten?” Roman paused and licked her lower lip “Please, don’t, or please, yes?”

The way she seized up in his arms in an instant seemed to sate him, and he kissed her again, sweeping across her lips now with no resistance at all. His iron grip relaxed into something more akin to a lover's embrace, sliding over the curve of her hips. The tension in his hands softened as his harsh and unyielding grip eased into a gentler and tender touch.

She struggled to get the words out and she wasn’t sure why it was so hard, “Please, don’t.”

Roman's smile remained, he leaned in closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze almost lovingly. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her waist and across her back. Their bodies swayed in sync, as though dancing to a rhythm only he could hear. Roman's possessive nature, while still present, transformed into a charming and admittedly desirable stance.

"Oh, kitten, what can I say? I couldn’t sleep last night and I lay awake in bed, picturing you lying in bed, unable to sleep like me, and something told me you must have been thinking of me. You were, weren't you?" he enjoyed the way she couldn’t avoid his gaze. It was a playful accusation, designed to provoke a reaction and it was working.

"What would give you that idea?" Belladonna asked, her voice clinging to a hint of dignity. 

She had been thinking of him, hell, she’d gotten off thinking of him, she wanted him. Badly. She’d thought about how good it felt when he toyed with her to orgasm in the back of his club. She could practically still hear the buzzing of the vibrator and the sounds of her own moans and whimpers. Hell, she was pretty sure she could smell his aftershave.

How could he possibly have known?

She let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms over her chest finally able to put a little space between them, meeting his intense gaze head-on.

"Fine, yeah, I was thinking about you. Satisfied?" Her admission hung in the air, her vulnerability exposed to him. But Roman's response was far from satisfactory. Instead, his gaze darkened, and a less-than-saintly smile curved on his lips. 

"Hardly.”

She needed to get back to work because she did actually have a lot of work to do but also because every second she remained alone with Roman was second closer to climbing the man in hopes of a repeat of their last encounter at the club. She knew if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted him again she’d never live it down. Roman’s posture relaxed, though he still reminded her of a hungry wolf, ready to pounce. His grip eased and she slipped from it, attempting to pass Roman, but their close proximity left no chance of avoiding brushing against him. But he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him, keeping her hips flush against his. 

As their lips met in a passionate kiss, one meant to bring her enjoyment, every stroke of his tongue against her lips was meant for pleasure not control. Belladonna felt a rush of emotions; the anger that had filled the room moments ago was now forgotten. Roman's presence was intoxicating, a heady mix of smoke and his unique aftershave. It was impossible to resist the allure of his lips, and all her frustrations melted away in that moment.

The intensity was palpable, like an electric current passing between them that left no room for hesitation or doubt. The world outside the conference room had faded into obscurity, not even the distant curious onlookers clicking away with their cameras was of concern. Yet, Roman and Belladonna couldn't care less about prying eyes or the potential photos being snapped. They were too consumed by the taste and touch of the other. 

Belladonna's heart raced as she collected herself. With a lingering glance, she nodded in acknowledgment, knowing that their tangled web of desire and manipulation was far from over and she headed back to work determined to put the encounter behind her or at least try to. Roman Sionis was not someone whose presence you could easily shake off.

“Enjoy the rest of your workday, kitten." 

~~~

"Are you sure about this, Ms. Black?" he asked, his worry evident in his voice. The driver hesitated for a moment before complying, he clearly wasn’t quite comfortable with the deviation in routine, concern etched on his face. “Mr. Sionis doesn’t like surprises.”

Belladonna met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and determination. "Don't make me repeat myself. Just drive," she asserted firmly. The driver nodded, understanding that her mind was made, and began the journey to Roman's penthouse.

As the car glided through the city streets, the memory of Roman's aggressive side lingered in her mind, creating a nervous flutter within her. But beneath that nervousness, a resolute determination took hold. She knew she had to establish some ground rules for their deceptive relationship. Or at least try to.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor of the foyer as she headed upstairs as though she owned the place and no one stopped her. Half of getting what you wanted in life was showing up, the other half was acting like it was already yours.

As she entered the opulent living space, she found him, lounging in a plush chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a portrait of privilege. His hair was slightly mussed from a long day, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. The urge to crawl into his lap and bite him was a little stronger than she would have liked to admit. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over her—nervousness, determination, and an undeniable thrill that came from being drawn to him.

Her steps were deliberate and her posture composed. She knew she couldn’t let herself be consumed by the whirlwind of whatever the fuck it was he stirred within her.

"Roman," she began, her voice steady. "We need to talk. I think it's time we establish some ground rules for this... arrangement of ours." Her eyes meet his, searching for any sign of resistance.

Roman regarded her with curiosity and amusement, savoring the power dynamics that swirl around them. He took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving hers. 

"Is that right, Angel?" he purred, his voice laced with an intoxicating blend of charm and danger. 

Belladonna's resolve strengthened, he might not have taken her seriously but at least he was pretending to. She knew she was stepping into uncharted territory, where the lines between deceit and desire blurred. But she had to find her own balance within this complex dance, ready to navigate the intricate web she was entangled in with Roman Sionis.

The tension in the room seemed to ease as Belladonna stood her ground, her eyes fixed on Roman's intrigued stare. His amusement slowly transformed into curiosity, fascinated by what he saw; she was standing up to him. 

"What needs sorting out?" Roman inquired, his voice thick with anticipation, before he could utter another word, Belladonna raised a finger to his lips, silencing him with an authoritative tone she used at work.

"Roman," she says, her voice holding just enough of a teasing tone so as to not upset him. "It's my turn to talk, and you need to be a good boy and wait."

His eyes widened then narrowed at her audacity, captivated by this new side of a woman he thought he had pegged. He nodded, a smirk dancing across his lips, willing to play along for now. Belladonna set her phone down on a nearby table facing him, its screen filled with missed calls and unread messages. She met Roman's gaze, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"How about thirty phone calls a day?" Roman offered her a shrug as if to say ‘Can you blame me?’ The same way a teenage boy who’d been caught with porn in his room would. “When I’m at work, I’m at work. I don’t check my phone like some lovestruck teen girl. I’ve never done that for a man, and I don’t plan to start."

Roman leaned back, studying her, appreciating this new side to her, the one that said she wasn’t going to put up with his bullshit. 

"Go on," he encouraged, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and amusement.

"I know I agreed to answer whenever you call, but you know, that doesn't work for me," she asserted. "I can't have my phone constantly buzzing, interrupting my work and personal life. When this arrangement ends, I still have bills to pay, and I won't risk losing my job just because 'daddy' likes to keep tabs." Her enticing use of the word daddy didn’t go unnoticed.

Roman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, he leaned forward loosening another button on his shirt. "Is that all?" 

Belladonna, emboldened by her own words, shook her head. "No, Roman. You also need to keep your visits to a minimum and a little on the less dramatic side. This is one of the busiest weeks of my year. My time is valuable and I don't have time to stroke your ego. Keep the visits to a minimum, no more whisking me away in the middle of a shoot or interfering with my workday."

The room was silent as Roman processed her words. His hands laced behind his head and a small smile played on his lips as if this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.

"Consider your requests acknowledged. I’ll take them under advisement."

She shook her head with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “Not good enough.” The room went still, that wasn’t something anyone told Roman Sionis, 

Not good enough, that was his line.

Roman's eyes narrowed at Belladonna's boldness, his amusement mingling with a hint of irritation. “Kitten, do I really need to remind you of my other options regarding our arrangement and its fluid state?” The veiled threat in his words hung in the air, attempting to unsettle her, but she remained unfazed. In fact, her confidence seemed to grow stronger, fueled by her realization of the leverage she held.

She met Roman's gaze squarely, undeterred by his attempt to undermine her. "Roman," she says calmly, taking the whiskey from him and enjoying a sip. Roman had shot people for less, but the fact that she was acting as though she was bulletproof was just too damn interesting to him. "I understand that you’re used to getting what you want. But I have options too. For instance, if something were to happen to me, if I were to go missing or face any harm, I think we both know who the primary suspect would be. Might be tough to explain to the cops. Especially considering your sweet and well-timed visit to my studio today, in front of all my coworkers.” Belladonna's words struck a chord and his expression briefly soured.”Some of the biggest names in the business, in fact,” 

To further emphasize her point, she pulled out her phone once again, quickly navigating to one social media platform after another. She presented a selection of candid shots of the two of them, captured in the studio, and the conference room, their chemistry evident for all to see. 

"Seems we're already trending," she stated confidently with a subtle assurance. The realization dawned upon Roman that their interactions had already garnered attention, and any sudden disappearance or harm befalling Belladonna would undoubtedly raise suspicions and unwanted scrutiny. It seemed bulletproof was an accurate description of his Angel. 

Roman's expression oscillated between irritation and begrudging amusement. He contemplated the situation, weighing the potential consequences and the path of least resistance he so often sought. A smirk curved his lips as he conceded, "Well played, Belladonna."

Though tension still lingered in the air, Belladonna's assertiveness and resourcefulness left an impression on Roman, challenging his control and providing a reminder that she was not easily manipulated.

He watched her closely as she slipped off her coat and stepped a bit closer to him, presenting the alternative. The proximity was deliberate, an assertion of her own power within this delicate negotiation. Roman's eyes remain fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.

"So here's my compromise. Call me and text me as much as you want. My assistant, Daisy, will have my phone, and she'll inform me when you call. And if I can, I'll take a moment to call you back." Roman's instinct was to protest, to declare that such an arrangement wasn’t sufficient for him, but before he could voice his objection, Belladonna cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

"And for every reasonable amount of phone calls I miss, I will do something that makes life easier for you," She hoped he didn’t ask her how she could make life easier for him because the truth was, she didn’t know. There wasn’t really anything she could provide Roman Sionis that he couldn’t get himself but she did know that for the moment their fates were intertwined and it bought her a little negotiating power.

Belladonna gracefully slipped onto the arm of the chair where Roman sat, perched like an ornament. Her next words spilled forth, filling the air with a mixture of challenge and temptation.

"And if you feel the need to keep tabs on me that badly," her voice low and laden with subtle allure, "you can surprise me at work with my favorite coffee between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. I will be a very grateful girlfriend, making sure that whatever ends up on social media next is something that makes you look very good. All I’m asking is a little restraint." 

Roman said nothing at first, he just stared at her. But then his expression shifted, his irritation tempered by a mix of intrigue and a newfound appreciation for Belladonna's assertiveness. He contemplated her proposition, recognizing the balance she sought to establish in their relationship only an idiot never strove to improve their end of the deal. After a beat, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well, well, kitten," he finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of admiration. "You certainly know how to negotiate." He nodded appreciatively. "I'm impressed with your presentation, and I'm even feeling generous enough to accept your conditions," His smirk faltered and it turned dangerous, a sudden pull found Belladonna pulled into his lap expectedly and aggressively. "But you're assuming a lot if you think I even care what other people think, Angel."

For a split second fear flooded her, that tone in his voice, sharp as a knife, scared her. However Roman wasn’t the first bully Belladonna had encountered, inexperienced people let their fear drive them to abandon their roles, and experienced people just play them harder. She shifted in his lap, making herself more comfortable and probably causing him a little bit of discomfort in the process. Her hand gently stroked his cheek, coaxing him to look into her eyes. 

"But you do care, Roman. You care quite a bit. One black sheep of the family to another, I know it when I see it."

Her touch lingered on his skin offering nothing but a pleasurable sensation with no further motives, a gesture meant to anchor their connection as she delved deeper into her assessment of Roman Sionis. "You want to be liked, you want to be loved, respected, and accepted. I can help you with that.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, captivated by her words and the implications they carried. Belladonna skillfully wove a hypothetical scenario, illustrating a picture of the power that public perception held. Her fingers glided through his hair in a calculated, almost loving manner, further entwining him in her persuasive web.

“The tabloids aren’t exactly kind. They called you a,” she took her phone and checked her source, “Spoiled, temper tantrum-throwing, brat.” Roman sneered, all traces of amusement were gone and his eyes held contempt. “But,” She set her phone down and cozied up to him, cradling his head in her hands with a lover's touch, gently stroking his temple. “Everyone loves seeing a bad boy reformed. Least for a little while.” Her touch remained tender, her fingers continuing to run through his hair, creating a sense of comfort and intimacy. “They just need to get to know the Roman Sionis I know.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, “The one that visits me at work and tells me how beautiful I am, the one that brings me coffee because he knows how busy I get, the man who calls me his Angel more than my own name. I’m sure Gotham would love to get to know that Roman Sionis…”

Roman, slightly taken aback by her composure, responded with a hint of caution, he had to admit he rather liked how she thought. The tabloids had long been a source of irritation for him.

"That's quite an agenda you have there, What makes you think you can make it happen?"

"I’m a fashion photographer, Roman. It's my job to make people look good" Her fingers grazed his scalp, gently tugging on the strands of his hair, eliciting a tremor of pleasure from him. "So, how about it, Roman? Do we have a deal?"

“You know, Angel, no one comes in here and strong-arms me into anything I don’t want.”

Belladonna leaned in closer, her touch lingering in his hair, her eyes meeting his. "I’m flattered that you think I’m capable of ‘strong arming’ a man like you. I like to think of it more as a renegotiation of terms, terms that suit us both.” Her confidence was unwavering.

“I don’t think you understand the buttons you’re pressing here, Belladonna.” He couldn’t help but be captivated by her, his gaze locked with hers. “I think we have a deal, though.” Belladonna's grin widened as she met his gaze. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went to disentangle herself from him but found she couldn’t. “How should we seal this new deal?” Roman asked, sounding like a spoiled child who didn’t get his treat after he was good. 

Before he could prompt her, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that carried a mix of challenge and victory. Slow, sensual, and smoldering on his lips, the type of kiss he never gave a woman but he ate up when lavished upon him like Belladonna was doing. Roman was a spoiled tantrum-throwing brat, but that just made it easier to get under his skin. It was the roadmap for how to deal with him; give him what he wanted. The soft warmth of her tongue licking at his lower lip as if pleading for him to let her taste him, he smirked against her lips and conceded. His lips parted for her, he could taste espresso, he could smell a hint of cigarette smoke as well as the scent of citrus on her skin and hair. Each time he’d kissed her he’d been in control, but now he relinquished a little bit of that precious control, letting the woman in his lap enjoy it for a few minutes. She sucked on his tongue and nipped at his lip as she worked her way back out of his mouth. 

"Belladonna fucking Black," he murmured, his admiration evident, he hadn’t expected to enjoy that as much as he did. He decided he wanted more. 

However, his expectation for another passionate kiss was cut short when she slipped out of his lap and gracefully put her coat back on. It caught Roman off guard.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Angel?”

With a hint of mischief, Belladonna gave him another loving kiss before delivering the news, "Sorry, baby, this Angel is flying home. She's had a very long day." Her lips brushed against his briefly, she whispered something she knew would rile him up or piss him off. “Be a good boy for me and I’ll kiss you like that every time I see you.”

She saw the feral look in his eye, how his chest rose and fell in breaths that were strictly controlled, she’d seen that look in men before. If she wasn’t wrong and she was fairly certain she wasn’t, Roman Sionis enjoyed being praised. 

Well, I can work with that.

To her surprise, Roman released her and rose up out of his chair, towering over her as though he was sizing her up, debating if he should or should not be a good boy, was the reward worth the obedience? She took a tentative step backward, not turning her back to him just yet, as she made her way towards the door. 

“Night Zsasz,” Belladonna nonchalantly greeted as she passed Zsasz, who had been lurking in the shadows of the room. 

Zsasz, stepping out into full view, watching the exchange between Roman and Belladonna with a mix of surprise and intrigue, he couldn't help but voice his astonishment.

"Did that really just happen?" Zsasz asked a genuine sense of disbelief in his voice. 

Roman, wearing the satisfied smile that belonged to a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, nodded in response. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Belladonna disappeared.

"Yes, it did." 

Known for his own dark inclinations, Zsasz surprised Roman with his next statement. "I like her." 

Roman's surprise was evident as he turned to look at Zsasz, contemplating the weight of his words. A sense of curiosity grew within him, as he wondered how this new dynamic would unfold.

~~~

As soon as she stepped through her front door into the warmth of her loft apartment, her cheerful demeanor quickly faded, replaced by a frown upon spotting someone seated on the couch.

Benjamin Cyrus Black, a distinguished man with a salt-and-pepper beard, reclined comfortably, his presence commanding attention. He held a lit Cuban cigar, its fragrant smoke mingling with the air, it smelled good on Roman but on her father it just smelled like oppression.

With a thinly veiled politeness that barely concealed her annoyance, Belladonna greeted him, her tone reminiscent of one used when dealing with an unwanted telemarketer. "Hello, Dad."

Benjamin looked up from his contemplative state and offered a nod in response. "Hello, Belladonna," he replied, his voice carrying a tone of authority with a touch of indifference.

As the room filled with a tense silence, Belladonna fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's presence even as a grown woman, she was still afraid of him. Their relationship has been strained for years, marked by their conflicting personalities and differing views on life. She knew that engaging in conversation with him was often an exercise in frustration.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Belladonna crossed her arms over her chest, readying herself for whatever conversation her father had come to initiate. 

The loft, once a sanctuary for Belladonna, now held an added layer of tension, as the clash between father and daughter loomed on the horizon.

Chapter Seven

#original character #fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #roman sionis smut #alternate universe #romansionisfanfiction #roman sionis imagine #romansionis #roman Sions #birds of prey #black mask imagine #roman has a daddy kink #dc fandom #original female character #roman sionis x original female character #roman sionis is a tease #mutual lust #bop #simping for the bad guy #yes this is probably unhealthy #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter Five

Shadows of Deception

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams

Dreams that were once plagued memories of violence and darkness were replaced by memories of Roman Sionis. The things he whispered and those dangerous hands of his bringing Belladonna to the edge of pleasure and holding her there. She tossed and turned as her unconscious mind tormented her with the carnal curiosities that surrounded Roman and just what was under those extravagant suits he wore. But tantalizing as the dreams were, they couldn’t provide the relief she wanted and it wasn’t until she woke up in the middle of the night, her chest heaved and she threw the covers off desperate for a cool breeze over her heated skin. It was just after one forty five, and she had to be up at six, fashion week was starting and that meant early mornings and late nights for at least a solid week. Hours in the studio and even more editing at her computer, back pain from being hunched over at her desk, a diet of take out and caffeine, minimal human contact outside of work and lots of last minute projects, deadlines and favors.

She hated fashion week.

She needed her sleep but as the minutes ticked on, no position was comfortable, the pillow too warm, her legs too restless, her mind too preoccupied. Preoccupied with thoughts of begging against the wall in the back of Romans club, completely melting into his touch and wanting more. There was the pulsing beat of the music that was barely audible but could be felt through the cinder block walls, the outright thrill of being so trapped against with nowhere to go, anyone could have seen them. The way her mind just shut off as soon as he’d hiked up her dress, the dress he’d told her to wear. He could have done anything to her and she’d have let him.

Fuck.

It was impossible that he was doing this to her, unbelievable that she was letting him do this to her. She didn’t let men get to her like this, but none of them held the dangerous edge that Roman had. None of them left her wondering if they’d kiss her or kill her. 

Roman fucking Sionis. His lips, his mouth, his hands on her skin, between her legs. Fuck. It had only been two days and she was quickly realizing the most dangerous thing about Roman Sionis was his similarity to an addictive narcotic. She needed another hit. 

The fan spinning overhead did little to quell the fire inside her, she tugged on a strand of her raven black hair, twirling it around her finger lazily. The thought briefly occurred to her to call him but she quickly shook it from her mind. That was pathetic. What was she even going to say?

‘I’m horny and I need to get off, so talk me through an orgasm?’ 

No way in hell, she’d never live that down. She didn’t need him. Not really, Roman was good and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that he’d made her feel good. But she knew her body better than him and there was also the matter of her personal pride. She glanced at her bedside table and tried to remember the last time she opened that drawer, it had been a while. Too long. Too much had been on her mind, sex seemed so unimportant. Fuck. 

She stared at the drawer for a full minute before realizing if she was agonizing about whether or not she wanted to reach into a damn drawer in order to get off, then she probably really needed to.  

She released the lock of her hair and reached over pulling out a small vibrator, one that hadn’t been used in longer than she liked to admit. The soft buzzing sound almost startled her, but it wasn’t dead. She closed her eyes and she could almost feel his hands, his breath, could almost smell him. Her hand trailed down her chest skimming over the fabric of her shirt and coming to rest above the waistband of her panties. The soft humming awakening things in her that she’d ignored for a long time, the memory of sex and orgasms, rumpled sheets, hair pulling and nails raking across flesh.

She slipped the toy lower, beneath the cotton searching for relief that would help her sleep. Her lips parted and she expelled a slow, shaky breath, stroking, teasing slowly and softly. Contented murmurs tumbled past her lips, punctuated with little breaths, her skin flushed hot again and she pulled at her shirt's neckline down with her other hand, thumb coaxing a nipple to a hardened state. 

Her body writhed against the bed as she worked herself higher, determined to sate a persistent hunger. The coil in her stomach coiled tighter with each delicate swipe of the toy just above her clit. Her chest rose and fell steadily as ripples of relief started to lap at her body.

“Fuck.” 

Behind her closed eyes, images of Roman clad in darkness and that smirk on his face, those hands of his, his fingers beckoning her closer and closer. Higher and higher. In the back of his club, dress hiked up to her hips, back against the wall, his hand between her legs, the sound of his breathing against her neck.  

“Oh, kitten. Be a good girl for me” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“That’s it, Kitten, Come for me.”

In the emptiness of her apartment, there was no one to hear the moan that spilled from her lips as her orgasm radiated from her core all the way down to her toes, her hips rose up and she tossed against the pillow as the overwhelming pulses pushed her into a long overdue orgasm. The gentle aftershocks sent the perfect warmth through her body and the heaviness that came with the post orgasmic rush began to lull her back into sleep. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her breathing slowed to deeply contented breaths, the only sound breaking the silence of the room.

She was almost asleep when the distinct sound of her phone pinged in the darkness. Immediately irritated with the question of who the fuck sends a text a two am, she grabbed her phone and unlocked the screen. 

Naughty girl. 

She blinked rapidly at the text. 

“Roman?” She muttered aloud. 

Sweet dreams, kitten. 

Chapter Six

#original character #fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #roman sionis smut #romansionisfanfiction #romansionisblackmask #roman sionis imagine #romansionis #roman sionis #black mask imagine #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

Shadows of Deception Chapter Three

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Final Note: This story is not meant for minors, you alone are responsible for what you consume on the internet. Minors DNI. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted elsewhere but please feel free to reblog.

Amen by Hailstorm

“She’s a liability, you know?”

Zsasz didn’t usually offer an opinion unless prompted for one, so sharing his thoughts so freely was a little out of character.

Roman was unphased by Zsasz's professional concern, and it wasn’t because he didn’t think Zsasz knew what he was talking about. He knew he did, Roman just didn’t care. He leaned back in his chair and cut the end of his cigar off before lighting it; he gave no acknowledgement of Zsasz' concerns. He had mostly made up his mind on what to do with Belladonna but he wasn’t so stupid as to make an ill advised decision because of a pair of long legs.

“What’s the matter Zsasz? Worried a woman could come between our bromance?”

“I’m just saying; it’s a risk.” Smoke began to curl its tendrils through the air surrounding Roman.

“Yes, it is. But it’s a fun risk.” He stared at a fixed point in the ceiling with his feet kicked up on the desk, lounging about. “Did you get the formation?”

Zsasz slid a file across the desk's surface and Roman glanced at it then back to Zsasz. He wasn’t in the mood to read. “What do we know?”

“Her name really is Belladonna Black, no middle name. Mother is Gloria Dubois, father is Benjamin Cyrus Black.” Roman gave no response, none of those names meant anything to him. He gave a questioning gesture with his cigar.

“That name supposed to mean something?”

“He’s a financier, old money. Rubs elbows with some pretty well known names, probably knows your folks.” Displeasure colored Roman’s face at the mention of his parents. “Not sure if there’s dirt there yet though.”

Roman had everything from medical records, birth certificate, school records, college and employment.

And it was all very average. She had been a quiet child and even mentioned in the newspaper a few times, a few pictures clipped from articles about her family but nothing about her. Just old pictures of a very bored looking Belladonna at black tie affairs. She’d been an A student at Gotham Preparatory School, but not valedictorian. Her records were nearly perfect aside for a few notes regarding a series of altercations between Belladonna and another girl, Olivia Danvers.

His kitten had been in a few fistfights it had seemed, he was surprised to say the least.

The report read that she’d gotten into an all out brawl and given the girl a black eye, split lip and a broken nose. He smirked at the pictures of the two of them in the file.

A sixteen year old Belladonna giving off hardcore Wednesday Addams vibes and one hell of a resting bitch face. She had scratches on her face and her hair had been clearly pulled but the other girl looked far worse. He chuckled at the idea of one girl slapping and pulling hair while Belladonna went in swinging.

“What else?”

Zsasz sucked his teeth and in a rare show of hesitancy, he didn’t answer Roman’s question right away. Zsasz had done a thorough job of compiling her life into a file, what was left was unspoken, off the record.

“What’re you gonna do with her?” Roman didn’t acknowledge that Zsasz answered his question with another. Something he didn’t like.

“She’s a plaything right now.” He replied, tapping his cigar, glancing back at the photos “A plaything with one hell of a right hook by the looks of it.” He looked down at a significantly smaller file from the GCPD. She didn’t seem like the type to have a criminal record. “What’s this?” He pulled the file out so that Zsasz could see it.

“Police report.” Roman raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “She was the victim of an unsolved assault right outside her job. Guy did a number on her. Broken bones, stab wounds with thirty odd stitches, they had to put her into a medically induced coma for six weeks. When she came out of it, she went to the cops a few times but looks like they weren’t too concerned with her case.”

The file was pitiful, a copy of the report, no witness statements, a few photos spaced every seven seconds apart from an atm across the street. A medical report from the hospital detailing the injuries from the attack and the last few pages were photos from the hospital. His stomach turned. She looked like a complete stranger from the last photo he’d seen. Face purple with bruises, bandages and several casts. A tube was breathing for her, and several photos of a large stab wound on her shoulder and the accompanying stitches, it was awful. He winced and looked away for the briefest of moments. Zsasz looked at the ground, he’d already seen the photos and while Zsasz was a monster even he didn’t want to look at them again.

“Looks like they couldn’t even be bothered to investigate.” Roman glanced at the report and his lips curled into a frown, the most basic information from the report was missing, or had never been filled out in the first place. He’d lost count of how many typos he’d seen in the ”report”. Then there were the atm photos, pretty much all atms only take photos every few seconds and almost none of them capture video. The photos were of decent quality in that they weren’t grainy as hell, but they were still from across the street and so any real detail was almost impossible to make out. They showed Belladonna leaving her office, then someone following her, then the attack, arms swinging wildly, her trying to run, and the man who attacked her with his arm raised, no doubt wielding a knife. The next series of photos showed her headed down an alley between buildings, after that nothing except the man fleeing the scene.

Roman was now sneering, and he crumpled the edge of the photo in his grip. “A piece of shit like Jimmy gets all the stops pulled out, they have goddamned footage of her attack in broad fucking daylight and nothing.” He dropped the photo onto his desk and put his cigar out on the photo of her attacker, burning a hole in it. “That’s Justice for you.” Something about this just rubbed him the wrong way, Jimmy was scum. Belladonna was, as far as he could tell, just a woman. Just an average woman, living her life. The scales of Justice were heavily weighted.

“Biggest joke in Gotham city.” Roman looked at the file and Zsasz could see the gears were turning in his head, he waited a few minutes and watched Roman. Studying him. “What is it, boss?”

“I’m thinking, we can use this to our advantage.” Zsasz wasn’t sure how but he waited for Roman to explain further. “Zsasz,” he sat up in his chair a bit. “I want you to find out everything there is to know about Jimmy from last year.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.” He looked at Zsasz with that look that said he wouldn’t drop it. “Where he lived, what he did, who he fucked, where his family and friends were, how he spent his time, all of it. Talk to whoever you have to, pull his phone records, credit cards, criminal records, talk to his associates. I want everything.”

Zsasz blew out a breath but nodded knowing better than to tell Roman what he was asking was a lot. What Roman Sionis wanted, Roman Sionis got. “I’ll make some calls. You got a deadline for this?”

“As soon as possible. Be thorough, keep it quiet.” Zsasz nodded. “But do what you have to.” Loud and clear. Roman didn’t care how he got the information. “Go.”

Zsasz got up and left Roman’s office, and silence fell over the room. Roman remained sitting in the fading light, with two very different photos. One an angsty teen looking like she’d kick your ass and the other a comatose beaten stranger that vaguely resembled Belladonna Black.

~~~

“Look, I’m not saying he’s not worth the effort but it just rubs me the wrong way. You know?” Daisy was clearly expecting an answer but Belladonna hadn’t even heard her question.

When she finally looked up from her daze, Daisy was standing there looking at her expectantly. “Huh?” Daisys deadpan expression wasn’t one that Belladonna saw often as she was usually a much better listener. “Sorry, Daisy say that again, I didn’t catch it the first time.”

“Or the second.” Daisy said irritation tugging on the ends of her words.

“Sorry.”

“Ok, what’s with you today? You’ve been in a weird funk for two weeks now.” She didn’t say anything and instead hoped a few minutes of silence would put Daisy off, but it didn’t. “I am just going to stand here until you tell me.”

True to her word, Daisy stood at the counter in Belladonna's kitchen. “We’ve got work to do.” She gestured to the planner on the counter and the calendar as well as the open laptop with emails to answer but Daisy didn’t move.

She knew it wasn’t smart to lie, lies were tough to keep track of and with the police investigating her and Roman the fewer lies, the better. She opted for the truth, or a version of it.

“It’s a guy.” Daisy's mouth fell open, not in a dramatic way but she clearly hadn't been expecting Belladonna to say that.

“What guy?”

“I’d like to keep it vague for now, I’m not sure what is happening with him just yet.”

Daisy looked confused, “You mean you’re deciding if a one night stand is enough or not?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is this guy?” Belladonna gave her a knowing look. “Oh, right, keeping it vague, ok how about some initials? Is he someone I know?”

“I doubt it.” She tried to decide if giving initials would be a dangerous move or not, she didn’t see the harm. “R. S.”

“R. S… Ok,” She could see the wheels in Daisy's head turning as she tried to crack the code. If R. S. Was someone she knew, but after a few moments of contemplation she came up empty handed. “No one I know?”

She shook her head. “You might know of him but I doubt you know him personally.”

“Ok, identity aside, what’s the deal? Was it good? Was he good?”

Belladonna cracked a sideways smile. “We didn’t have sex.” She glanced at the counter Daisy was propped up against and thought about what happened there with Roman. “Just sort of got to know each other.”

Again, not a lie. Not really. Daisy wore a look of genuine confusion on her face, and Belladonna didn’t blame her. What did you call it when you shoved your tongue down a man’s throat while he felt you up because you were trying to prove a point? The point being that you were willing to lie to the police about a relationship? She could be somewhat air headed at times but Daisy wasn’t stupid like a lot of people assumed she was. She could see the gears in her head come to a halt and half expected smoke to come from her ears.

“So, you guys, what? Just fooled around?”

Belladonna tilted her and thought about it for a second, deciding that the middle school expression fit the situation quite well. “We sort of got interrupted.” But Daisy still didn’t look like her questions were answered. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Ok,” Daisy did not sound convinced. “Well, was whatever you guys did do any good?” She gave a vague gesture when she asked her question as though the motion was all encompassing whatever wasn’t put into words.

She couldn’t help but look at the counter and think about Roman’s demanding mouth and his bold hands. How he snarled into his phone when it rang and the general air of legitimate anger that radiated from him when he answered it. He had been pissed. It made her wonder just what they would have done had the phone not rung.

“He certainly seemed to know what he was doing.” She smirked slightly as she said it, staring at the counter. Her far off look wasn’t lost on Daisy and it seemed to satisfy Daisys curiosity.

“What’s he do for work?” Daisy went to Belladonna's wine fridge and pulled out a bottle as though they were gossipy college girls about to play fifty questions.

“Can’t really say, but it’s high powered type work.”

“Like Wall Street?”

“Not quite but it’s up there with demand and risk.”

“Where’d you meet him?”

She accepted the glass Daisy offered her, not paying attention to what she was drinking. “At a club last Friday.”

“You went out? I thought you went home.”

“I was upset about Jackson. So, I wanted to try and forget about him for a night, you know?” She wasn’t at all ashamed with what her plan had been, she didn’t shy away from sexuality and had a general lack of concern for what most people thought of as loose behavior. So then why was she acting like she was embarrassed by what she had gone out to do?

Whatever the reason, Daisy picked up on it right away. “Belladonna, you don’t have to explain anything to me or feel weird about it. So, you went out, who cares? Just wish you’d have told me, I would have gone with you.”

An awful thought occurred to Belladonna just then, what would have happened if Daisy had been with her? Would Roman have killed them both? Would she even have gone into the back of the club? Would the creep even have pursued her if she hadn’t been alone? There were too many scenarios to imagine and no one had any more validity than the last. An endless realm of possibilities and none of them mattered because none of them were reality. The reality was that Belladonna was now very involved with Roman Sionis and despite how at times it had scared her, she couldn’t bring herself to hate her interactions with him.

“Well, if you had I might not have met him.”

“Fair enough.” Daisy held out her glass to Belladonna’s, she clinked their glasses together. “So, is he gorgeous? He must be a catch if he caught your eye.”

First thing she thought of were those leather gloves he’d worn, then the suit, the glasses and those cold steely eyes. “Yeah, he’s pretty gorgeous.” No lie on her part there.

“Does he have any hot friends?”

Zsasz? She was fairly certain they weren’t friends, but honestly she had no idea what their working relationship was. Zsasz with all his scars and menacing came into mind, he was most definitely not Belladonna’s type but he just might have been Daisy’s. Despite her petite and sometimes demure personality Daisy had just as few fucks to give as Belladonna and she liked to walk on the wild side when it came to men and sex. It reminded her of how Daisy had been talking earlier and she hadn’t been paying attention but she suddenly found a means of shifting the conversation away from her relationship with Roman.

“He’s not my cup of coffee but he might be yours. Wasn’t that what you were talking about?”

“So you were listening?”

“Suppose I absorbed a few things in my stupor. Same shit, different day?”

It was a stab but fortunately it ended up being correct. It was Daisy's chief complaint about her dating life. But Daisy didn’t really date, she was a fan of casual and open relationships. Relief flooded her expression as she felt she could now properly vent knowing she would be heard. And yes, it would be the same type of problem, most men treating her like she was breakable and a bit put off by what she wanted and what she liked.

“God! Like is it so hard to find a guy who will be respectful and treat me like a human being but then behind closed doors politely but very disrespectfully rail me?” Belladonna choked on her wine sputtering slightly, not bothered at all by how Daisy barely paid her any mind. She’d merely been caught off guard. “It wasn’t like I was asking for anything wild, just a bit of wax play, is that weird? That’s not weird, is it?”

Belladonna stared at her glass and blinked, her expression saying that their definitions of weird were probably very different. “On the first date? It might be a little weird.”

“What’s weird about that? Most men want sex right?” She nodded, universal truth. “And most men want it right away, right?” Another nod. “So, what’s wrong with saying on a first date what you like or what your boundaries are?”

It shouldn’t have been weird by that logic. Daisy wasn’t looking for a husband, or even a boyfriend, just someone to have some fun with. “That’s a good point.”

“Right? Like, Jesus, I’m tired of the guys I meet treating me like a goddamned China doll. Spank me, tie me up, that’s what safe words are for!”

She chuckled and nodded along, Daisy was 100% right. What was the point in being in a relationship if the sex was subpar at best? She wanted good sex first and if a relationship worked too then cool, all the better.

Belladonna finally looked over to the bottle of wine Daisy had opened. It was one of her pricier bottles, the kind that really should be enjoyed in its entirety. Daisy shrugged but grinned in victory as Belladonna reached over to close her laptop.

Chapter Four

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #original character #roman sionis smut #romansionisfanfiction #18+ content #black mask #blackmaskimagine #roman sionis imagine #obessiveromansionis #yandare #romansionis #birdsofprey #bop #blackmasksmut #blackmaskfanfiction #alternate universe #dc comics #dc universe #original female character #romansionisblackmask #workingthroughmydaddyissueswithkinkysexwithdangerousmen #daddyissues #shadows of deception

[thegreatwicked]

WIP it good...

So, it's been a minute since I've made an actual post relevant to my writing and since I'm in hardcore analysis paralysis mode right now I'm leaving it up to you guy as to what writing project is a priority right now so here's what I've got:

Meditations: Maul/OFC; After returning to rebuild his homeward of Dathomir, with his brothers, under his mothers instruction as she is dying, he also has his mate Zeala by his side. Its a hot summer night and Maul has insomnia, so he tries a little meditation, his mate senses his restlessness and joins him and the two enjoy a little quiet meditation time, turns out meditation is great foreplay. NSFW, AU. One shot with room for more content. Written from Mauls perspective.

Thunderstorms: Hux/OFC, AU following the arranged marriage troupe. After a considerable rebel defeat the First Order decides it needs to present a unified image to the galaxy as they'll be running it soon; a PR stunt finds Hux being told since he's young, successful, good looking and tactical brilliance he needs a wife! He's given a list of candidates and he gets to pick, he's less than thrilled about this whole arrangement until he meets a woman as ruthless and smart as him. Selene Corvus. This is the story of her experiencing first thunderstorm and Hux takes some leave to surprise her, coming home to find her nearly cowering, he helps her forget the storm. This was inspired by Thunderstorm by Lady in Writing on TikTok. NSFW, AU

After the Storm: Hux/OFC, AU another Hux story because I'm a simp. SEX POLLEN TROUPE. Sort of. Hux, who survived his assassination attempt by admiral Pryde is now working with the Rebellion and is returning to base with his partner, Sola Vex when their shuttle is caught in an electrical storm and they crash on a small island. The island is full of dangerous flora and among that is the infamous sex pollen plant. Very long one shot with a twist. NSFW, obviously.

Unbreakable Bonds: Obi-wan/OFC, AU. This is a multi chapter semi slow burn between Obi-wan and the jedi sentinel he had a one night stand with ten years prior to RotS. Anakin stops Mace from killing Palpatine and he's made a proper master on the counsel, one day a surprise shows up in the form of Cressida Vox the sentinel Obi-wan slept with and she has his son who is now almost ten years old. With something of two scandals on their hands the council decides to reevaluate their long held stances on attachment along with Anakin about to be a father the time for change may be upon the Jedi, semi slow burn romans eventual NSFW.

Armitage: Hux/OFC, AU. My last Hux story for now, maybe. Hux survives his assassination attempt and joins the rebellion but only because everyone else wants him dead. In a revelation hux discovers his mother is alive and has been kept from him by his asshole father, when he fails to recognize her or acknowledge her in anyway Holdo is ready to have him executed not wanting to deal with him anymore. The agent who protected his mother, Sola Vex puts herself in the line of fire and offers to watch Hux and take responsibility for him until the brainwashing his father did can possibly be undone. She's not doing this for him but for his mother who doesn't want to see her son die. This ties into After the Storm and is a long term, semi-slow burn, eventual NSFW.

Shadows of Deception: Roman Sionis/OFC, AU. After witnessing a triple murder in Romans club, Belladonna Black makes a deal with Roman to avoid a similar death by playing the part of his girlfriend in order to establish a solid alibi and to help clean up his name. Fake relationship troupe, very NSFW, little slow burn, I was just sipping over this man and wanted to write something kinky.

Healing Hands: Jason Todd/OFC, semi AU. Jason returns to his vigilante girlfriend apartment one night and he's in bad shape. Haunted by his past and pain, he gives himself over to his girlfriend to take care of him. I made a Tumblr post about this some time ago. NSFW, but kind of sweet and sexy. One shot, maybe room for more.

Read to Me: Matt Murdock/OFC. Matt's girlfriend is an errotic novel narrator and she's reading a new book preparing for a new project while Matt is trying to work. But he cancer her heart beating faster, hear her breathing and know she's getting tot eh good part of her book. She takes a break and offers to read to him. NSFW, one shot.

It's No Good: Soldier boy/OFC, AU. Bored in a bar one night Soldier boy meets a woman who his charms don't work on, a woman who isn't putting up with his bullshit. When he basically calls her a tramp because she comes onto him when he comes onto her, she rips him a new one and tells him "When you're tired of quantity and want quality come find me." VERY, NSFW. One shot.

1001 Nights of Mischief: Loki/OFC(Siygn), AU. A series of sexy adventures between Loki and his beloved fiancé/eventual Wie Sign the goddess of fidelity. He follows he to Midguard to play a game with her, he finds her in a gentleman club and she offers to show him a new mid guardian custom she's learned for him, a private dance. NSFW, one shot with potential for more.

Ok, thats my main projects right now so let me know which one you guys would like me to work on next!

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