Rose stared at Scar Face like he had personally offended her existence. The man sat still, arms crossed like a grumpy statue, eyes fixed ahead and pointedly ignoring her persistent begging.
"Come on, Scar," she groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Just one pizza. A small one. With cheese."
He didn't even blink.
This was not the Scar Face she had grown used to. The usual man, occasionally grumpy but relatively indulgent, was replaced by a version that was clearly under strict orders. Orders not to give her a damn thing.
She sighed deeply, dragging her feet back to the couch and flopping onto it with exaggerated fatigue. "Okay, fine. No pizza. How about...speakers? So I can at least play some music instead of dying of boredom?"
He didn't flinch.
"A board game?" she tried again, watching for any flicker of reaction. And there it was—an eyebrow twitch.
"Which one?" he asked gruffly, voice low and suspicious.
"Monopoly," she said quickly, pouncing on the opportunity like a starving cat. "With real money."
Scar Face narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you broke?"
She winced, dramatically clutching her chest like he'd just stabbed her. "Nikolai's money."
"What?"
"If I lose, whatever I owe you will be paid by Nikolai," she declared. "Deal?"
"Why should I believe that?"
"Because I said so. And because if I don't get some form of entertainment soon, I'm going to lose my mind and you're going to be stuck babysitting a crazy person."
Scar Face looked at her for a long second, clearly torn between his orders and his patience.
"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll get someone to bring a board."
Rose squealed and jumped up, pumping her fist into the air. "Yes! Game night!"
---
By midnight, the coffee table in the living room had transformed into a heated battleground. Real bills were stacked on the side, properties scattered like war flags, and Rose? Rose was the reigning monarch.
"Land on my hotel, I dare you!" she said with an evil grin as Konstantin's piece hovered dangerously close to Boardwalk.
Konstantin, another of Nikolai's men, glanced nervously between his token and his wallet.
"You already own half the board," he muttered. "And you bribed me. Twice."
"Business, my dear Konstantin. It's all business."
Scar Face rolled the dice and groaned as he landed on Park Place.
"That's another $1,500, big guy," Rose said sweetly, holding out her hand. She already had five grand in front of her.
She wasn't just playing the game; she was hustling like a Wall Street shark. Years of playing with Alejandro and his degenerate friends had taught her one vital lesson: cheat or be cheated. And since these guys let her, she went full con artist.
But it wasn't just about the money. It was about the feeling of control, of laughter, of pretending—for just a little while—that she wasn't trapped in some gilded cage.
---
It was nearly 2 a.m. when Nikolai returned.
He pushed the heavy oak door open, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His suit jacket was gone, replaced by a dark hoodie and fresh jeans. He'd changed, washed up, but the bullet wound throbbed beneath the bandages like a cursed reminder. Blood loss? Manageable. Pain? Irrelevant. The betrayal? Unforgivable.
All he wanted now was silence.
But as he stepped into the living room, the absurdity of the scene before him hit him like a freight train.
Scar Face, Konstantin, and Rose were gathered around the coffee table, playing Monopoly with actual cash.
He blinked.
His brain short-circuited for a moment.
Rose was grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
"What is going on here?" he demanded, voice low but sharp.
Scar Face and Konstantin jumped to their feet.
"Sir," they said in unison.
Rose didn't flinch. In fact, she beamed at him. "We're playing Monopoly. With real money. And I am killing it."
She fanned the cash in her hands like a Vegas queen.
Nikolai stared at her. Then at the men. Then back at her.
"Alexei," he said, addressing Scar Face by name. "What did I say about giving her things?"
"You said no pizza, no speakers, no sweets, no phone. You said nothing about board games."
Rose smirked. "Checkmate."
He sighed, eyes closing for a moment. "Great. I forgot to be specific. How stupid of me."
He turned to his men. "Out. Now. And take the damn game with you."
Scar Face and Konstantin didn't hesitate. They gathered the board, pieces, and cash, and disappeared.
Rose flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh.
"You're such a grandpa."
"And you're such a brat."
She eyed him as he moved toward the hallway. His posture was stiff. He was favoring his right side. Every movement calculated.
Something was wrong.
She stood. "Did you get hurt?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he glanced away, hand twitching near his ribs.
"Just a scratch. Go to bed."
He turned to walk away.
She watched him for a beat longer.
"Asshole," she muttered under her breath, heading to her own room.
But deep inside, worry gnawed at her. That was not a scratch. That was pain in every step. And Nikolai, for all his secrets and rage, was bleeding somewhere under that hoodie.
He didn't want to tell her. Fine. She wouldn't press.
But she'd find out. She always did. She grinned, she had an evil plan and she was sure it would work and hurt to, just not her, him.
---
The clock ticked past 3 a.m., and silence finally fell.
But neither Rose nor Nikolai was asleep.
He lay on his bed, arm resting carefully at his side. The dressing had bled through. Sergei didn't hesitate with that shot. Didn't hesitate to punish him for killing Lorenzo's son.
Fabio.
He saw the man's face again. Twisted. Arrogant. Drugging Rose. Planning to defile her.
No. He would do it again. And again. Without remorse.
But the cost—the cost was rising. And the world around him was beginning to fracture.