She Admitted She Had Never Been Touched—And the Mafia Boss’s Answer Left Her Breathless

By the beginning of winter, Roman had surrendered control of several businesses, cooperated with investigators, and agreed to testify about transactions connected to his family's criminal network.

He had not been arrested, but the possibility remained.

His lawyers advised him to prepare for a long legal process. Some of the allegations concerned conduct that had occurred years earlier, and the authorities were still determining which transactions could be attributed to him personally.

The uncertainty affected everything.

His schedule became unpredictable. Meetings were canceled at the last minute. He sometimes spent entire evenings with his legal team, reviewing records and preparing statements.

I tried to be understanding.

I also learned that understanding did not prevent loneliness.

One Friday evening, Roman canceled dinner for the third time in two weeks.

He called rather than sending a message, which I appreciated.

“Thea, I am sorry. The lawyers need me tonight.”

I looked at the dinner I had prepared.

“Is everything all right?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Do you need me?”

He was quiet.

“I would like to see you. But I don't know when I will be finished.”

I took a breath.

“Then I think we should reschedule.”

“I understand.”

I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

So could he hear mine.

“I am not angry that you have responsibilities,” I added. “But I need us to have some time together that doesn't depend on whether the rest of your life is under control.”

“You're right.”

“Can we set aside Sunday? No meetings, no business calls unless there is a genuine emergency.”

“I will make it happen.”

He did.

On Sunday, we spent the afternoon at a botanical garden outside the city. We walked beneath glass ceilings, drank tea in a small café, and argued about whether a particularly ugly plant resembled a sea monster or a badly folded umbrella.

For three hours, Roman was not the head of a troubled business empire.

He was simply the man I loved.

Before we left, he bought a small potted plant from the gift shop.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A plant.”

“I can see that. What kind?”

He examined the label.

“Something that apparently survives neglect.”

I stared at him.

“Are you buying me a plant because you believe I am neglectful?”

“No. I am buying it because I am a man who has killed every plant he has ever owned, and this one has been advertised as difficult to kill.”

“That is the least romantic explanation I have ever heard.”

He handed it to me.

“Would you prefer flowers?”

I looked at the little plant.

“No. I think this is perfect.”

We took it home together.

For a while, our life settled into a fragile rhythm.

I went to work. Roman continued the legal process. We cooked dinner, read in the same room, and learned how to enjoy the ordinary moments that had once seemed too small to matter.

Then Mikhail disappeared.

He had been expected to attend a meeting with his lawyers but failed to arrive. His phone was switched off, and his apartment appeared to have been vacated in haste.

Within twenty-four hours, investigators contacted Roman.

They wanted to know whether he had spoken to his uncle recently.

He had not.

But someone had leaked a document suggesting that Roman had threatened Mikhail during a private conversation several months earlier.

The document was incomplete, and Roman denied making the threat.

Still, the timing was suspicious.

The authorities began examining whether the disappearance was connected to the ongoing dispute.

Roman's lawyers advised him not to speculate publicly.

He followed their advice, but I could see the strain.

He was frightened that his uncle might be dead.

He was also frightened that someone would use the disappearance to implicate him.

On Tuesday evening, Roman arrived at my apartment unexpectedly.

He looked exhausted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Someone entered one of my warehouses.”

“Was anything stolen?”

“Documents. Equipment. A computer containing records related to the investigation.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes. My lawyers are handling the legal response.”

He sat down heavily.

“Thea, I think someone is trying to destroy the evidence before the investigation reaches the people responsible.”

“Do you know who?”

“I have suspicions.”

“About Adrian?”

“Possibly. But I will not accuse anyone without evidence.”

I sat beside him.

“What do you need?”

He looked at me with an expression I had rarely seen.

“I need to know that you are safe.”

“I am.”

“Are you certain?”

“Roman, I have Elena's number. I follow the safety plan. I document suspicious incidents. I am not going to wander into a warehouse to investigate your enemies.”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“I know you wouldn't.”

“Then trust me to take care of myself while you take care of what you need to do.”

He took my hand.

“I am trying.”

“I know.”

For a moment, I believed that the crisis might remain contained.

I was wrong.

Two nights later, I left the library at six and walked toward the bus stop. The street was busy, and the weather had turned bitterly cold.

A man approached me near the corner.

“Miss Sinclair?”

I stopped but did not move closer.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Daniel. I work with Mr. Vulov.”

He showed me an identification card.

I did not recognize him.

“Is there a problem?”

“Mr. Vulov has asked me to take you somewhere safe.”

My heart began beating faster.

“Why hasn't he called me himself?”

“He is dealing with an emergency.”

I took a step back.

“I am going to call him.”

The man's expression changed.

“Miss Sinclair, there isn't time.”

That was enough.

I turned toward the nearest open shop and entered without running. Once inside, I called Elena and told her exactly what had happened.

She instructed me to remain in the public area and contact the police if the man approached again.

He did not.

By the time the police arrived, he had disappeared.

I called Roman next.

He answered immediately.

“Thea?”

“Someone claiming to work for you tried to take me somewhere.”

Silence.

“Where are you?”

I told him.

“Stay inside the shop. Do not leave until Elena or the police confirm the next step.”

“Roman, who was he?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

His voice was cold with anger, but he did not direct it at me.

“I did not send anyone to collect you. I would never arrange something like that without speaking to you.”

I believed him.

That did not make the incident less frightening.

Elena arrived with a colleague and accompanied me home after the police had taken my statement.

Roman wanted to come over immediately, but I asked him to wait until we had confirmation that the area was secure.

He respected my request.

When we finally spoke later that night, I could hear how hard he was struggling to control his emotions.

“I should have done more.”

“You cannot prevent every person from making a dangerous choice.”

“I should have anticipated that they might approach you.”

“Roman, listen to me.”

He went quiet.

“I am frightened. I am angry. But I am not going to let you turn this into a reason to control every part of my life.”

“I know.”

“You can help me stay safe. You cannot promise that nothing bad will ever happen.”

“I know that, too.”

His voice broke slightly on the last word.

For the first time, I realized that Roman's fear was not only about losing me.

It was also about confronting the limits of his own power.

He had spent his life believing that enough money, influence, and determination could solve almost any problem.

Now he was discovering that there were things he could not buy.

Trust.

Freedom.

The ability to undo the past.

The certainty that the people he loved would never be hurt.

The next morning, the police identified the man who had approached me as someone with connections to a company formerly associated with Mikhail.

The investigation remained ongoing, and no one could establish exactly why he had tried to move me.

The incident was treated seriously.

Roman's security arrangements were reviewed by Elena and his legal team. I was consulted about every proposed change.

For the first time, he did not insist on making the decisions alone.

Then came the final blow.

Three days later, Roman's principal office was searched under a legal warrant. Investigators seized computers, financial records, and documents connected to several companies.

Roman cooperated.

He called me afterward.

“They have taken almost everything.”

I sat down.

“What do you mean?”

“The offices. The records. Some of the accounts are frozen while the investigation continues. My lawyers believe the legitimate businesses can survive, but it will take time.”

“Are you all right?”

He laughed once, without humor.

“I don't know.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Potentially.”

“Roman.”

He went silent.

“I am here.”

“I know.”

“You don't have to pretend you're fine.”

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said something I had never heard him say before.

“I am afraid that when all of this is over, there will be nothing left of the life I built.”

I closed my eyes.

“Then we will have to find out what is worth keeping.”

He breathed slowly.

“What if there is nothing?”

“Then you will build something else.”

“It isn't that simple.”

“No. It isn't.”

I paused.

“But you are not the sum of your companies, Roman. You are not the amount of money in your accounts or the number of people who answer when you call.”

He did not respond.

“You are the man who sat in a bookstore and admitted that his life was wrong. You are the man who cooperated with investigators even when it frightened him. You are the man who learned to ask before arranging my life.”

My voice trembled.

“You are also the man who made mistakes, and you will have to face those mistakes. But losing your empire does not mean you have lost the possibility of becoming someone better.”

I heard him inhale sharply.

“I don't know how to begin again.”

“Then begin with tomorrow.”

He laughed weakly.

“You make it sound so small.”

“Most important things are built from small decisions.”

We spoke until late.

The next morning, Roman surrendered additional records to investigators and formally withdrew from the management of several companies pending the outcome of the case.

His lawyers continued to advise him.

His legitimate employees were offered clear information about the restructuring, and independent administrators began reviewing which businesses could remain open.

It was not a heroic transformation completed in a single dramatic moment.

It was paperwork, difficult conversations, legal obligations, and the slow dismantling of a system that had once seemed permanent.

But it was real.

Weeks passed.

The threats against me diminished after the attempted approach was investigated. Elena continued to monitor the situation, and the police remained involved where appropriate.

I returned to my routine, although I no longer assumed that ordinary days were guaranteed.

Roman and I saw each other when his schedule allowed.

Sometimes we talked about the future.

Sometimes we talked about nothing important at all.

One evening, I found him sitting on the floor of his nearly empty study, surrounded by boxes of books.

“What are you doing?”

“Deciding which books to keep.”

“You own thousands.”

“Apparently, I have been using literature as an excuse to avoid making decisions.”

I sat beside him.

“That sounds familiar.”

He looked at me.

“You are not going to let me forget anything, are you?”

“Not the embarrassing things.”

He smiled.

Then his expression grew serious.

“Thea, I need to tell you something.”

I waited.

“I don't know whether I will ever be able to give you the kind of life I once imagined. I may face charges. Some of my businesses may never recover. I may have to spend years rebuilding what remains.”

He took my hand.

“I cannot promise you wealth or certainty. I cannot promise that my past will stop following me immediately.”

I looked at him.

“What can you promise?”

“That I will tell you the truth. That I will not ask you to sacrifice your safety to protect my reputation. And that I will keep working to become someone who deserves the life he wants.”

I felt tears gather in my eyes.

“Those are good promises.”

“They are the only ones I can make honestly.”

I leaned forward and kissed him.

“I don't need you to be invincible, Roman.”

He rested his forehead against mine.

“I am beginning to understand that.”

For the first time, I could imagine a future with him that did not depend on his ability to control everything around us.

It would be a future built on accountability, patience, and the willingness to begin again.

And although I did not yet know how difficult that beginning would become, I knew one thing with certainty.