Chapter 5 - The Red Ink
For two weeks, I buried myself in numbers.
Accounting wasn't just math to me; it was language. It was a narrative of human greed, fear, discipline, and betrayal written in columns of black and red ink. And as I combed through Costa Capital’s vast ecosystem, I proved my worth tenfold.
Within ten days, I uncovered an offshore skimming operation conducted by one of Roman's regional directors in Chicago—a man who had been embezzling small, unnoticeable fractions of a percent from real estate acquisitions, totaling nearly two million dollars over three years.
When I presented the bound audit report to Roman late on a Thursday evening, he sat back in his massive desk chair, skimming the pages with terrifying speed.
"Arthur Vance," Roman murmured, his voice deadly quiet. "I trusted Vance with the Midwestern expansion."
"He was using dummy vendor accounts registered in the Cayman Islands," I explained, leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk, pointing to the columned breakdowns. "He disguised them as environmental impact study fees. It was clever, but he used the same routing sequence twice in 2024. That was his mistake."
Roman set the report down. He looked up at me, his eyes glowing with a dark, intense admiration that sent a wave of heat straight to my core.
"You found in ten days what an entire team of external forensic accountants missed for three years," he said softly.
"I told you I was good at my job," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, though my pulse was racing under his intense gaze.
"You're not good, Sadie. You're extraordinary."
Roman stood up, slowly walking around his desk until he stood inches from me. Over the past fortnight, the professional distance between us had begun to melt into a heavy, electric awareness. Every shared cup of coffee, every late-night strategy session in his penthouse, every time his shoulder brushed mine while looking at a screen sent sparks through my nervous system.
He wasn't the cold mobster the newspapers warned about. He was a man of absolute integrity, fiercely protective of his people, and astonishingly attentive to me. He had bought me a whole new tailored wardrobe, hired a personal security driver for my commutes, and listened to my financial opinions as if they were gospel.
"How much do I credit toward your father's debt for finding Vance's fraud?" Roman asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"Standard recovery commission is ten percent," I answered, keeping my gaze locked with his. "That's two hundred thousand dollars off the three point four million."
"Granted," Roman said. He reached out, his long fingers carefully tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind my ear. His touch was warm, sending a shiver straight down my spine. "You're working yourself to exhaustion, Sadie. You haven't left the building before nine PM since you arrived."
"I like working," I whispered. "It keeps me from thinking."
"About what happened in Connecticut?"
I lowered my eyes, looking at his dark tie. "About how easy it was for them to erase me. My mother hasn't called once. My brother hasn't sent a text. It's like twenty-four years of my life never existed."
Roman’s hand moved from my hair to gently cup my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone, forcing me to look up at him.
"They didn't erase you, Sadie," he said, his voice laced with a fierce, protective steel. "They abandoned the only part of their legacy that had any real value. Their loss is my profound gain."
My breath hitched. We were standing so close I could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. For a breathtaking second, I thought he was going to lean down and kiss me.
Suddenly, the phone on his desk buzzed loudly, breaking the spell.
Roman didn't release my jaw immediately. He held my gaze for one more lingering second before stepping back and picking up the receiver.
"What is it, Luka?" Roman answered, his tone instantly shifting back to sharp business.
A pause. Roman's jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white around the handset.
"Where?" Roman asked. Another pause. "Do not let him leave the lobby. I'm coming down."
May you like
Roman hung up the phone and looked at me, his eyes darkening into pure storms.
"Your father is downstairs," Roman said. "And he brought your brother."
