#yesiknowthisistoxic

[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

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