Page 198 of Blackwood

“Apparently,” I reply coolly.

His gaze flicks past me to Cal. “And who are you?”

Cal straightens. “I’m her backup.”

I roll my eyes. “Settle down, secret service.”

Roman’s mouth tugs, just barely. “There’s no need for theatrics or weaponry,” he says calmly, glancing at the gun in my hand. “You are safe in here. Please, sit.”

I hesitate. Just for a breath. Then lower the gun and sink into the chair across from him. Cal follows, silent and steady beside me.

Roman watches me like he already knows the questions. Like he’s been waiting to answer them his whole life.

“I heard Irina’s side of the story,” I say, keeping my gaze locked on his. “So what’s yours?”

A small smile curves his lips. “Oh, I’m sure Irina had quite a lot to say.”

He leans back on his desk. “Irina, Daniel, Izzy, and I all went to Northvale together,” he begins, voice low and steady. “We were thick as thieves… mostly. But Izzy—”

He exhales, slow and weighted. “I loved her. More than anything in the world.”

My jaw tightens. “Then why didn’t you fight for her?”

“I did. As much as I could. But I was promised to someone else, Luciana Bellanti. Rome. My father’s final demand. Your grandfather’s dying wish.”

He gives a faint, tired smile. “Marrying her tied the Russos to one of the oldest bloodlines in Italy. Power. Legacy. Stability. All the things our family thought mattered.”

Something flickers behind his eyes, grief, regret, maybe both. “But none of it mattered to me. I just wanted Izzy.”

He pauses. “After graduation, I hired her to dance at The Obsidian. It was the only way I could keep her close without starting a war within my own family. We were careful. Quiet. Madly in love.”

He looks away, the faintest tremor in his voice. “Luciana was in Rome most of the time, so it was easy to pretend. Until it wasn’t.”

He hesitates.

“Until she got pregnant,” I finish softly.

He nods. “She was terrified. Not of me, I think. Of what we’d done. Of what she might lose if she stayed. Maybe she didn’t believe I’d choose her.”

His gaze meets mine, steady and full of ghosts.

“Or maybe she didn’t trust herself.”

He exhales slowly, the sound more confession than breath.

“Your mother had a complicated relationship with her emotions,” he says quietly. “She could be warmth and laughterone moment, then turn cold enough to freeze the air in her lungs. On stage, she called herself Raina… and sometimes, I think shebecameher. It was like Izzy was the light she showed the world and Raina was the darkness she couldn’t escape.”

His gaze drifts past me, lost in memory.

“Izzy was light. Joy. Love. Everything I ever wanted.” He takes a deep breath. “But Raina… she carried the fear. The rage. The control. She never believed I loved Izzy. Thought I wanted to own her, tame her.”

He swallows hard, jaw tightening. “We fought about it constantly. She said I was just like my father, power-hungry and cruel. And when Izzy got pregnant…” His voice fractures. “I think that was the moment she finally broke. Raina took over. And Izzy never came back.”

When he finally looks at me, his steel-eyes are raw with regret, like the truth still bleeds when he speaks it. “I think it was Raina who ran that night… not Izzy.”

Silence presses down. Thick. Dense. “If you loved her that much, why didn’t you go after her? Look for her, look for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, voice threaded with regret. “I found the love of my life dead on a cold steel slab at a hospital, and you were gone. No one would give me any answers.”