Chapter 122 - 0122: It’s About Your Grandfather

Chapter 122: Chapter 0122: It’s About Your Grandfather

Jaxx’s Point Of View

The high-end whiskey hadn’t quieted her ghost. The endless neon city lights hadn’t distracted me for a second. The oppressive silence of the penthouse hadn’t brought me peace. Elena’s face was carved into the insides of my eyelids now - deep, raw, unyielding. No matter how many times I swore to myself that I’d drop it, that I’d let her go back to her gilded cage, she stayed rooted deep in my blood, refusing to be exorcised.

"Screw this," I snapped, shoving violently off the counter.

My hand slammed down onto the brass keys resting on the glass table. The cold, heavy metal bit into my palm like a dark promise. I didn’t care that it was two in the morning. I didn’t care that it was reckless. I needed to see her. Just one look from afar. Just to see her face through a window, to prove to myself that she was real, made of flesh and bone, and not some suffocating spirit engineered to drive me insane. Maybe then, maybe if I saw her safe, I could finally breathe again.

BUZZZZZZ!

Before my fingers could even wrap around the door handle, the wall intercom shrieked, a loud, grating buzz that shattered the dark atmosphere of the suite.

"Fuck!" I snarled, slamming my palm against the wall unit, pressing the speaker button down so hard the plastic creaked. "What?!"

A hesitant, shaking voice came through the small speaker. "Uh... S-Sir? Apologies for the late hour, but... Roman is downstairs in the private lobby. He’s coming up. He said it’s urgent."

I froze, my jaw tightening until a muscle in my cheek twitched. I dragged my hand down my face, rolling my eyes up toward the dark ceiling. Of course. Roman. The bastard had a supernatural talent for showing up like a vulture the exact moment I was about to do something dangerous.

"Send him up," I growled flatly.

I let go of the door, tossing the brass keys back onto the table with a loud, metallic clink. I took a slow, deep breath, smoothing down the front of my black dress shirt, forcing the wild, unhinged storm inside me back into its tight, lethal box.

By the time the private elevator doors hissed open at the far end of the suite, I was already leaning casually against the edge of the dark marble bar, a fresh glass of amber liquid held loosely between my fingers, my expression smoothed into a mask of pure, unbothered ice.

Roman strolled out of the elevator like he owned the entire building. His sharp, custom-tailored suit didn’t have a single wrinkle on it, despite the hour. His dark, sharp eyes swept over the dimly lit penthouse, instantly taking in the spilled whiskey on the floor, the darkened windows, and the heavy tension bleeding off my posture.

"Man... what the hell was that?" Roman asked, taking his sweet time walking over, unbuttoning his suit jacket with smooth, deliberate movements. "I have to make appointments through your building security now? I’m your right hand, Jaxx. You’re not the damn President. You don’t get to ghost my calls for three days."

I leaned my hip against the bar, swirling the dark amber liquid in my glass, my lips twisting into a slow, dangerous smirk. "What’s the matter, Roman? Didn’t like waiting in the lobby? Maybe I just like watching you squirm."

Roman clicked his tongue softly, stepping right up to the bar. He didn’t look amused. His eyes drifted down to the half-empty whiskey bottle resting on the counter, then back up to the dark circles under my eyes, cataloguing everything with the sharp precision of a man who missed nothing.

"Nah," Roman said, his voice dropping into a flat, unimpressed tone. "I think you need to put the bottle down before you burn your gut out. Raw whiskey, three-quarters gone, single-malt. At this rate, your liver’s gonna file a lawsuit against you by morning."

I took a slow, deliberate sip, letting the burning liquor coat my tongue while I stared him down. "Maybe I like the burn, Roman. Keeps me awake."

Roman folded his arms over his chest, leaning his dark shoulder against the wood, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "Or maybe you just like wallowing in your own misery. Is this still about that girl? Is this about Graham’s wife?"

The silence that slammed into the penthouse after his words was so sharp it could have cut hands on contact. It stretched out, heavy and suffocating. The lazy smirk on my lips faltered, dropping an inch.

I didn’t say a damn word. I just stared at him over the rim of my glass, daring him to push further.

Roman stepped closer, his heavy gaze refusing to give an inch of ground. "Yeah. Thought so. You’ve been acting like a fucking lunatic ever since you crossed paths with her again. Don’t even bother trying to deny it, Jaxx. I can see it written all over your face. I told you three weeks ago... get your eyes off her. She’s married to Graham. She’s off-limits. And even if she wasn’t, you seriously think a girl like that is ever going to willingly walk into your world? Not after..."

He stopped, his jaw clenching tightly as his voice trailed off into a dark murmur. "Not after the mess you pulled years ago."

Those words didn’t just hit me... they ripped straight through my ribs, slicing deeper than any blade Roman could have pulled on me.

I let out a long, harsh breath, the sound scraping roughly out of my lungs. I set the glass down hard on the marble, leaning my elbows against the counter, my head hanging low between my broad shoulders.

"You don’t have to keep digging the knife in, Roman," I rasped, my voice sounding like crushed gravel. "I fucking know. I was a complete dick to her back then. I’m still a dick."

Roman’s mouth twitched, a tiny, dark smirk cutting across his face. "Correction, boss... you’re a massive, unmitigated dick."

My head snapped up, my pitch-black eyes locking onto his face with a glare sharp enough to split wood. "Watch your mouth."

Roman didn’t flinch. He didn’t even shift his weight. Instead, his smirk widened into a confident, dangerous grin. "What? Tell me I’m lying. I dare you."

Something lethal and hot flashed through my blood. Before my brain could even filter the reaction, my right hand blurred. Snap. The cold steel of my black semi-automatic pistol cleared its leather shoulder holster and pointed straight at the center of Roman’s forehead, my thumb pulling the hammer back with a heavy, metallic click.

Roman’s reaction was instantaneous.

Without a single micro-expression of surprise, his own gun appeared from his jacket... a smooth, fluid motion honed by ten years of bloodshed, and the dark barrel of his weapon pressed firmly against the underside of my jaw.

A complete, dead-locked standoff.

The air in the room instantly turned to lead. It became thick, suffocating, volatile... the kind of silence where a single heartbeat sounded like a war drum. One tiny muscle twitch in either of our fingers, one wrong, hasty breath, and that would be all it took to paint the dark marble bar in blood and brains.

We stood there, frozen like two wild predators measuring each other’s throats, eyes locked in an unyielding battle of wills neither of us truly wanted to win this way.

And then a low sound rumbled out of my chest.

A laugh. Dark, sharp, and lethal.

Roman’s chest heaved once, and a quiet chuckle broke through his lips. Within two seconds, both of us were grinning like a pair of starved wolves in the dark, the tension bleeding out as quickly as it had risen.

"You should be damn grateful, Roman," I said, my voice dropping into a low growl laced with genuine menace as I slowly lowered my weapon, sliding it back into the leather under my arm. "You’re one of the only three men left alive on this planet that I tolerate pointing a loaded gun at my face."

Roman smoothly holstered his own pistol back beneath his tailored suit jacket, shaking his head with a crooked, amused smirk. "Oh, I know, Jaxx. Believe me, I know. That’s why I enjoy pushing your buttons so much."

His smirk slipped just a fraction, his dark eyes fixing on mine with a rare layer of dead seriousness. "Though, don’t get it twisted. You’re still a fucking terrifying bastard when you’re cornered. Make no mistake about that."

I reached into my shirt pocket, pulled out a black cigarette, and flicked my silver Zippo open. The tiny flame illuminated the sharp angles of my face for a second before I snapped it shut, exhaling a thick cloud of grey smoke into the air between us.

"Good," I murmured through the haze, my eyes gleaming in the dark. "You should be afraid."

Silence returned to the suite for a long moment, heavy and filled with the quiet, familiar rhythm of two men who had killed for each other more times than they could count. Outside, the distant hum of city traffic buzzed against the thick glass windows, indifferent to everything unraveling within.

I dragged deeply on the cigarette, ashes glowing orange in the dim light, before I finally cut straight to the bone.

"So? What are you really doing in my penthouse at two in the morning, Roman? Don’t tell me you drove all the way across town just to play therapist and remind me I can’t touch Elena. I already know where I stand."

Roman’s entire demeanor shifted instantly.

The lighthearted mocking vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, heavy shadow that made his shoulders straighten. The teasing wolf disappeared; the ruthless Underboss stood in his place. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket, stepping closer until he stood right across the counter from me, his dark gaze locking onto mine like iron chains.

"It’s not about the girl, Jaxx," Roman said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly register that vibrated through the quiet room. "It’s about your grandfather."