LOGINRavenAnaya steps through the massive glass entrance and comes to an abrupt stop, her mouth falling open.“What…” Her eyes sweep from the soaring marble columns to the crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, then to the winding staircase and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens. “Raven… this place is insane.”A laugh bubbles out of me at the look on her face.“I’ve been to Roman’s estate, and I’ve seen the penthouse, but this…” She slowly turns in a circle. “This is the best one yet. It’s huge. It’s gorgeous. And don’t tell me this belongs to you too.”“It does.”Her head snaps toward me. “Seriously?”“One of my estates, actually.”She blinks. “One of your estates?”“My father left them to me.” I shrug. “Everything. Including the Cole estates you’ve probably heard about.”For a full five seconds, she just stares. “So…” Her eyes narrow, calculating. “Are you richer than Roman?”“I wouldn’t say that.”“You wouldn’t say that because you’re trying to be humble.”
Raven In the kitchen, I’m wearing one of Roman’s polo shirts that barely covers my ass and nothing underneath. I empty a packet of spaghetti into a pot, fill it with water from the sink, and place it on the stove. When I reach up for the salt on the top shelf, the shirt rides all the way up, cool air hitting my bare ass and pussy. I don’t bother pulling it down.Because why should I?I can walk around bare if I want right now. The whole house is now empty, just the two of us.No more distractions in our lives. A nice dinner, plans for the next big move, and cuddling up in his arms for the rest of the night, talking or making out until we’re both spent. The pasta is boiling over by the time I realize I’ve been staring at the envelope on the counter instead of dinner.I turn the burner down, wipe my hands on a dish towel, and pick up the envelope again, running my thumb along the sealed edge for what feels like the tenth time tonight.Roman said it was mine to open. Mine to dea
RavenSteam still clings to the bathroom mirror when I sit down in front of it, towel wrapped tight, damp hair dripping onto my shoulders. I peel back the edge of the bandage over my chest slowly, careful, watching my own reflection do it like I’m looking at someone else.The wound underneath is healing. Not fully, not yet, the skin still pink and tender at the edges, but the shape of it is unmistakable now. No ink. No needle ever touched me. Just a scar in the shape of his name, carved deliberate and careful into skin that will carry it for the rest of my life.It’s beautiful in a way I don’t fully understand yet.I’m still staring at it when the door opens and Roman steps in, pausing when he sees me sitting there with the bandage half peeled away.“Let me,” he says quietly, crossing the room.I let my hand fall away and tip my chin up as he crouches in front of me, his eyes settling on the wound. He studies it quietly, his expression unreadable, before reaching for the fresh g
RavenThe cemetery is nearly empty when we arrive.I count exactly three figures standing beside the open grave. A priest, prayer book open in his hands, waiting for a congregation that never came. Vivienne, dressed in black, veil pulled low over her face. And beside her, Aria, chin lifted, arms crossed in that same practiced superiority she’s worn every time she’s looked at me.That’s all. Three people.No soldiers. No allies. No members of the Diamond Club Gerald swore would bury Roman alive for this. Not one of the men who spent decades shaking his hand and calling him a friend bothered to show up and watch him lowered into the ground.I stare at the empty rows of folding chairs set up for a funeral nobody attended.Gerald Cole commanded armies. Men feared his name in rooms he never even entered. And in the end, this is what’s left of him. Three people and a hole in the ground, in a corner of the cemetery reserved for people nobody fights to remember.I don’t know if this is justic
Raven The elevator doors slide open onto the rooftop.The city stretches around us, its skyline glittering against the night, while low lanterns hung along the railing cast pools of warm golden light across the floor.Roman’s hand settles against the small of my back, steady and possessive, guiding me forward.I’m dressed in black from head to toe.A fitted black dress hugs my body, disappearing beneath the tailored blazer that conceals the gentle swell of my growing baby bump. Black heels click softly against the concrete with every step. Oversized sunglasses shield my tired eyes, while the bold red lipstick on my lips is the only splash of color I allow myself.I barely recognize the woman reflected in the glass doors we pass.She doesn’t look fragile.She doesn’t look like someone carrying grief on her shoulders.She looks composed. Untouchable. Powerful.Like a woman who has learned that softness doesn’t have to come at the expense of strength.Roman gave me that.“You don’t have
Raven “I watched you slaughter your own flesh and blood out of greed and pure evil.” Roman says. “Even wild animals protect their young, yet you butchered your own family without a shred of remorse.”Roman’s voice remains eerily calm, but every word lands like a blade.“It took nothing short of divine intervention for me to get out of that house alive with her. From that night on, everything I did, every lie I told, every smile I forced, every step I took toward you, had only one purpose.”He takes another step closer.“To make you pay.”His jaw tightens, years of restrained hatred flickering across his face.“Do you have any idea how difficult it was pretending to be your friend? Sitting across from you, listening to you talk, shaking your hand… when all I wanted was to drive a knife through your heart and watch you bleed for what you did?”“And you think I’m the one who’s going down tonight?” Gerald asks, not a trace of remorse in his voice. “You’re the one who’s going to d
Raven In a few minutes, I’ll see Roman again after three years apart, and God help me, I might lose my mind just thinking about it. James drives smoothly and unhurriedly, as if there is no such thing as urgency in the world. I’d forgotten that about him. I’d forgotten a lot of things about Boston
RavenHis hand closed over my wrist and guided it gently away. Then his fingers were there instead, and the difference was immediate — the difference between trying to tickle yourself and someone else doing it. He found my clit with easy, unhurried pressure and I gasped so hard I almost choked on i
Raven I was having a wet dream. Again. This time I was grinding my soaked pussy on something very solid. It felt good. So good. Better than anything I managed on my own. Not until I woke up. The realization hit me slow, the way sleep peels away in layers; first the warmth, then the frict
RomanI find Marcus in my study, standing by the window with his back to the door, trying very hard to look like a man who has been patiently waiting and not at all like a man who walked in on something he wishes he could unsee.“Marcus, I—”“I didn’t see anything.” He says it quickly, still facing







