“Take Sadie instead.” My father said those three words before the thunder finished shaking the windows.

The car ride into Manhattan was conducted in near absolute silence, broken only by the hum of the high-end engine and the steady sweeping of the windshield wipers against the storm.

I sat in the plush leather backseat of the black SUV. Roman sat beside me, his long legs crossed comfortably, working on a sleek dark tablet. He didn't hover. He didn't try to initiate polite, meaningless small talk. He simply gave me space to process the shock of being traded by my own blood for three point four million dollars.

I pressed my forehead against the cold tinted glass of the window, watching the streetlights of Connecticut dissolve into the towering, glowing skyline of New York City.

"You're hyperventilating," Roman noted softly, without taking his eyes off his tablet screen.

I blinked, realizing my breathing had become quick and shallow. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he countered smoothly. "You were just sold by your father in front of your mother and dragged into the night by a man the media calls a syndicate enforcer. Being fine would make you psychotic."

I let out a shaky, humorless breath. "Are you a syndicate enforcer?"

Roman slid his tablet into his leather briefcase and turned his full attention to me. In the dim amber ambient light of the car interior, his sharp jawline and the dark ink whispering up his throat looked impossibly dangerous. Yet his posture remained astonishingly calm.

"I am a private equity lender, Sadie. I fund projects that traditional banks deem too volatile. When those projects fail, I collect." He leaned back against the headrest. "My methods are strict, but I operate on contracts, not chaos. I don't break legs unless someone lies to my face. Your father lied to my face for three months."

"And what am I?" I asked, turning my body to face him fully. "A trophy? A hostage?"

"You are my senior internal auditor," Roman said, his voice absolute and unyielding. "Starting tomorrow morning at eight. You will have your own office on the forty-second floor of Costa Capital. You will have full access to our ledger system. If you find discrepancies, you bring them to me. If you find fraud, you flag it."

The car pulled into the underground private parking garage of a modern glass skyscraper in Tribeca. The gates hissed shut behind us, cutting off the sound of the city storm.

Luka opened my door. I stepped out, clutching my duffel bag tightly against my side.

Roman led me to a private elevator that required a biometric fingerprint scan. The doors closed, and the lift shot smoothly upward, stopping at the penthouse level.

When the doors slid open, I stopped dead in my tracks.

The apartment was enormous, an open-concept architectural masterpiece of warm wood, soft cream textiles, floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the glittering expanse of the city, and shelves packed with thousands of real books. It didn't look like a lair of a mobster. It looked like a peaceful sanctuary above the clouds.

"This is my primary residence," Roman said, taking off his charcoal overcoat and hanging it on a wooden rack near the entrance. Beneath the coat, his dark grey suit tailored to perfection highlighted a massive, imposing frame. "Your suite is down the east hallway. Private bath, walk-in closet, fully stocked kitchen."

I frowned, looking around the breathtaking space. "You said I would have my own apartment."

"You will. Next week, once my security team clears the building near Wall Street," Roman replied, walking toward a small bar area and pouring two fingers of amber bourbon into a crystal glass. He offered it to me.

I shook my head. "I don't drink."

He accepted the refusal without pushback, setting the glass on the counter untouched.

"Until your father accepts that you are no longer under his thumb, you stay here," Roman explained, his voice dropping into a solemn tone. "Thomas Miller is a desperate man, Sadie. Desperate men do foolish things when they realize they've lost their collateral. Here, you are safe."

I looked at him, searching his face for the hidden motive, the catch, the dark price he would inevitably extract from me.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked quietly. "He gave me to you like a dog."

Roman walked slowly across the hardwood floor until he stood directly in front of me. He was so tall I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The faint scent of cedarwood, rain, and expensive tobacco drifted off him.

"Your father saw a weight he could throw overboard to keep his sinking ship afloat," Roman said, his dark eyes burning with a sudden, fierce intensity. "I saw a brilliant woman being starved of the recognition she earned. I don't break things that have value, Sadie. I protect them."