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thegreatwicked · 8 months

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Shadows of Deception Chapter Six

Shadows of Deception

The Great Wicked

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

Chapter Six

I Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet

In the bustling fashion house, the air was thick with anticipation and energy as fashion week began. The studio was a whirlwind of activity, with creatives and professionals of various disciplines coming together to bring their artistic visions to life so that the wealthy could dress in opulence. Wardrobe stylists rushed around, carefully selecting garments and accessories, while hairdressers and makeup artists worked their magic, transforming models into ethereal beings. Cinematographers set up their equipment, capturing every detail with precision. Designers fine-tuned their creations, ensuring they were flawlessly presented for the cameras.

Amidst the controlled chaos, Belladonna managed to remain calm and collected as she went from meeting to meeting, and project to project juggling a myriad of tasks all without a hair out of place. Dressed as stylishly as the models she photographed yet infinitely more practical, with fitted black, ripped jeans instead of the long and flowing dresses and skirts and a white sleeveless blouse instead of cropped fashion tops. Her black-heeled boots echoed her determined steps in a stark contrast to the stiletto heels the models wore, while the blazer jacket added a touch of sophistication to her look and the camera in her hand set her apart from the models she directed. Her hair was swept back into a no-nonsense high ponytail, setting her apart from the endlessly tousled, teased, styled, and colored hair.

Belladonna's attention had been completely absorbed by the tasks at hand, her mind fully immersed in the creative process. There was no greater distraction from a personal life than the furious storm that was Fashion Week. The sound of her phone buzzing in her bag went unnoticed from the moment she stepped into the studio and the storm enveloped her.

With hundreds of photographs in, countless wardrobe changes, and dozens of models in a variety of poses and backdrops, she’d also sauntered effortlessly through at least four meetings over the shows she would be covering that week and had a stack of other projects to edit before sending them off. Checking her phone for missed calls or text messages was the last thing on Belladonna’s mind, it may as well have not even existed at all in the nebulous void that was her purse somewhere in her office. Its pings and rings went unchecked for almost six hours.

After a phone call that really could have been an email, Belladonna was off to her next engagement, which consisted of getting caught up on the rest of the afternoon with Daisy.

“Alright, Belladonna, here's what the afternoon looks like after we break for lunch. You've got the Coltless show at two o'clock, Ramier specifically asked for you, I think he wants to take you to dinner, but you’ll need a good reason to avoid that so I’d start thinking of one now, the man doesn’t like taking ‘no’ for an answer. I’ve got your change of clothes for the show in your office; I managed to get that jacket you wanted from Miccah’s storehouse but I couldn’t get the boots.” She didn’t care about the boots now, she groaned inwardly at how she would avoid another dinner invite from Ramier. Daisy was right, he didn’t like being told no, Belladonna briefly thought back to another man who matched that MO… Least Roman was better looking.

“Your passes for the show are on your desk and the car is picking you up for it at one o’clock so not a ton of time to eat before the show, so I grabbed you something quick,” Daisy handed her a small styrofoam take-out box, she hadn’t even thought of food but was happy to see a few eggrolls and some pad-tai. “After the show, you’re meeting with Santoni for drinks about tomorrow’s shoot. We’ve got the space rented in the Bowery and you need to be there by six before it gets too warm also because we only have the space for four hours, his assistant double booked with someone else that’s why the rush. And you have reservations tonight for one more meeting at seven with the editor of Runway magazine, I managed to get the meeting set for that Thai place you like and if all goes well you should be home by ten, but honestly, you know how this week goes, these meetings take forever so I’ve blocked out an hour after each one in case it runs long. Best case scenario you don’t get caught off guard, worst case you’ve got a little downtime in between each one.”

Belladonna nodded as she looked through a printout of her schedule Daisy had given her, finding it easier to absorb information when she could both see it and hear it.

“Is that Roman Sionis?”

It was this curious inquiry that shattered the bubble of concentration that Belladonna had enveloped herself in. The fashion house around her continued its chaotic flow but for Belladonna the world stopped and she was suddenly hyper-aware of every little detail as though time slowed.

The mention of Roman Sionis threw her off her focus, freezing her in her tracks. With a subtle shift, she caught sight of Roman and Zsasz, standing amidst the buzzing crowd. She could feel his piercing gaze, like a spotlight used to illuminate escaped prisoners, it made her feel so exposed. Despite her attempt to remain composed, she knew deep down that Roman had probably seen her spot him, how could he not? He was the type of man who, if you didn’t know better, you’d think he had eyes in the back of his head. He simply knew everything that was happening around him, constantly aware.

Her mind raced, her thoughts colliding with the surge of emotions within her. She hadn’t seen Roman since the other night at his club, and she felt a rush of heat when she remembered their encounter. Grappling with conflicting desires – to confront Roman and demand an explanation or to maintain her cool facade and carry on with her work. The air around her seemed to crackle with anticipation as she weighed her options, aware that her next move could have far-reaching consequences.

The room thrummed with activity. Amidst the growing murmur of Roman’s name circulating through the studio, Belladonna remained focused on her work, determined to maintain her professionalism in the midst of the mounting distractions.

As the studio chatter reached a crescendo, a hush fell over the room as deliberate footsteps drew nearer. Belladonna could feel the pull of Roman's presence, his aura demanding her attention.

When Belladonna finally turned to face Roman, she looked the epitome of composure but was inwardly shaking. His expression, was perfectly pleasant, despite sensing a hint of irritation in his expression, well-concealed beneath his suave exterior. Something was clearly on his mind, and brushing him off until later was not going to be an option.

“Hello, Angel.” The air went still for Belladonna but she swallowed and offered Roman a smile. “I know you’re busy but afraid I need a moment of your time,”

Daisy’s shocked expression bounced back and forth between Roman and Belladonna like a game of rapid-fire ping pong. She still held Belladonna's datebook and her mouth was only slightly agape but it was enough for Belladonna to realize that she had to make some sort of introduction.

“Daisy, meet Roman Sionis.” Her introduction felt slightly robotic but it was the first thing that leaped to mind, “Roman, my assistant, Daisy Monroe.”

“So lovely to meet you, Miss Monroe,” Roman, ever the showman, shook her hand politely and smiled an award-winning smile, seemingly genuinely pleased to be where he was. “My Angel here has told me about you, tell me, how’s your brother doing? Is he out of the hospital yet?” Belladonna hid her shock well by biting the inside of her cheek. Daisy, however, seemed perfectly charmed.

She had never told Roman about Daisy’s brother, the one who over a week ago had been attacked in the advanced treatment facility in Arkham. Hadn’t told him her brother had a concussion, or that he’d been so badly beaten he needed to be extracted by helicopter.

“He- he’s good. He’s out of intensive care and his vitals are looking good,” she seemed a little confused as to why one of the wealthiest men in Gotham was a king about her brother as if he was personally invested.

“That’s wonderful. We need more men like him in those hospitals.” A cold chill crept up her back but she fought back the urge to demand answers and instead went with the flow of conversation. “Such a dangerous job.”

“It’s really so nice to meet you. I’ve heard such great things about your club, I’m dying to check it out.”

“Well, Miss Monroe I'd be delighted to put your name on the VIP list. Just let me know when you'd like to come, and I'll make sure you're well taken care of.”

“I will, but it’ll probably have to wait until after Fashion Week.” Daisy exchanged a look with Belladonna and then back to Roman, “So, how do you two know each other?” She had a look like she was about to sniff out the juiciest gossip and she was eagerly waiting for the answer.

“Has my angel not said anything?” He feigned shock so well… “Well, I suppose we don’t need to keep it quiet anymore. Belladonna and I met at my club a few weeks ago and we’ve been seeing each other, wanted to keep things quiet for a little bit, you understand,” His tone sounded so casual that she almost believed the circumstances that surrounded their meeting were really that simple. Daisy nodded emphatically, completely understanding the desire for discretion. “She put quite the spell on me it seems, I simply couldn’t keep away.”

Daisy's playful curiosity jumped from the charming enigma that was Roman Sionis and quickly settled on Zsasz’s imposing figure as he loomed behind Roman.

"And who is this tall, dark, and brooding?"

Roman, always the suave conversationalist, grinned and replied, "Ah, Daisy, this is Victor Zsasz, a close associate of mine. He takes care of certain... matters for me." His tone held a hint of mystery. “He does the dirty work…”

Daisy seemed intrigued by the enigmatic figure. "Oh, I see. A man of mystery, huh?" Zsasz flashed a playful wink at her.

Roman chuckled, enjoying the exchange. "You could say that. He's a man of many talents." Roman turned to Belladonna and held her gaze for a long moment, as though trying to convey a silent message. "Angel, spare a few minutes for me?" His voice was thick and heavy, hard to resist on a good day, shame it was fake.

With a polite excuse, Belladonna gestured for Roman to follow her into a more private area of the fashion house. As they walked away, she whispered to Roman,

"You certainly have a flair for the dramatic, don't you?"

Roman couldn't hide a mischievous grin. "Darling, sometimes a bit of drama adds some spice to life, doesn't it?"

As though the whole thing was an everyday occurrence, one of the wealthiest and most desirable men in Gotham was asking for her time. She nodded and led him down a hall and into one of the smaller unused conference rooms that wasn’t covered in photos, articles, and design samples. Satisfied that they would be both undisturbed but at the same time not completely alone. The room's large windows provided a clear line of sight to anyone who might walk nearby.

Belladonna's heart quickened as Roman's demeanor took on a darker edge as soon as the door clicked shut. Contrasting sharply with his typically charismatic persona, the mask fell. The unfamiliar intensity in his eyes caught her off guard, reminding her of the dangerous man she had encountered that fateful night they first crossed paths. It was a side of Roman she rarely witnessed, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t leave her hair standing on end.

Roman guided her forcefully into a chair and he sauntered along, coming to stand behind her. His hands slid up her arms in a gentle caress before coming to rest on her shoulders. Belladonna couldn’t help but feel a twinge of vulnerability at Roman’s position behind her, their close proximity creating a deceptive image of intimacy. The unobstructed windows of the conference room didn’t seem to concern Roman, he treated it like a stage. Serving as a reminder that their interactions must remain composed and devoid of any overtly explicit behavior, despite the charged atmosphere that hung between them.

His hands moved up her neck to her ponytail and with what she suspected was a well-rehearsed maneuver he grasped the black elastic band that held her professional look together and tugged it loose. Her black silky hair fell over her shoulders and his fingers combed through it in complete silence, he seemed to be reveling in the feel of her hair slipping through his fingers. Sometimes the strands would catch on his fingers but he worked the tiny tangled out and continued the oddly intimate gesture several times before he seemed satisfied with his work. He leaned down, seemingly to plant a kiss on her neck, his words cut through the air with a menacing tone, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Her unease was palpable as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Who the fuck do you think you are ignoring me, angel?" he hissed, each word dripping with a mixture of frustration and anger.

Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, Belladonna mustered the courage to defend herself, though her fear remained evident in her voice. She kept her view straight, looking right out the window of the conference room in the event someone walked by. Knowing if things turned violent, it was her only way to call for help. His hands combed through her hair again before gathering her hair into his fist, it jerked her head back slightly and pulled on her scalp.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I've been working," Her words laced with a hint of defiance. "Contrary to what you may believe, you are not the center of the universe."

He jerked her head forcing her to look up at him over her shoulder, his piercing gaze bore into her, searching for any sign of deception. She quickly added, "Besides, my phone is in my bag. I haven't even touched it since I got in six hours ago." The truth hung in the air, their confrontation rooted in a misunderstanding fueled by Roman's possessive nature and her commitment to her work.

Belladonna's heart raced as she awaited Roman's response, unsure of how he would react to her explanation or the sharp attitude that accompanied it. The room was stifling, the unresolved tension threatening to consume them both.

Slowly wrapping her long hair around his fist. The discomfort was a stark reminder of the power discrepancy between them, an attempt to assert his control over her. Yet, she refused to show any sign that he was getting to her, her eyes meeting him with a resolute determination.

His question lingered in the air, a challenge veiled within the depths of his voice.

"Are you lying to me, angel?"

As her lips parted to answer his question it became clear he wasn’t looking for an actual answer. Before she could utter a single word, he descended upon her, claiming her mouth in a kiss that felt more like a declaration of power than an act of affection.

It was uncomfortable and hard, almost painful, a reminder of his ability to bend her to his will. Behind her stoic expression, Belladonna struggled to remain composed, the power play of his kiss did have an effect on her. As their lips parted, she answered him with unwavering honesty, her voice a bit breathless.

"No, I'm not. I've been here since six. And I'll more than likely be here until late tonight for the rest of the week."

Roman's eyes delved into her soul as if searching for any hint of deception, it reminded her of a lion before it pounced. The room was charged with the weight of their connection palpable as they engaged in this battle of wills.

At last, the tension began to dissipate as Roman's demeanor shifted and his scowl softened. His satisfaction with her response was evident in his expression, his presence now both comforting and alluring. Belladonna's heart skipped a beat as she felt his lips against hers again, but this time, it was a more sensual kiss, one that was meant to be pleasurable and it was. Sweet and searing, he gently coaxed her mouth open and stroked her tongue with his, and his grip on her hair loosened allowing for the black strands to slip through his fingers.

"I believe you, angel," Roman murmured, his voice infused with admiration and intrigue. He reveled in the effect he had on her. "You make a man nervous, ignoring his calls and texts," he confessed, his tone soft and smooth, carrying a hint of vulnerability, she wasn’t sure if it was genuine or not. It certainly sounded that way.

“I’m sorry.” Her reply was still breathy and meek, and it was only after the words left her lips she wondered what the hell she was apologizing for, her sense of self-preservation had clearly won out against any outrage she felt.

Roman's hand gently caressed her hair, his touch lingering as it glided down the back of her head and neck, and her jaw. A tender sigh escaped him, and he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "You’re forgiven, Angel. But don’t let it happen again," his words laden with possessiveness, she nodded against his lips.

“Pick up the phone when daddy calls.”

"So, what do you need?" She asked, trying to stay on topic as if this whole interaction hadn’t both shaken her and turned her on. "What was so important you had to come here and interrupt my day?"

Determined to steer the conversation back to the purpose of Roman's visit, she stood up from the chair, breaking free from him, her irritation clear on her face. She needed to put some space between them, needed to get away from him just a little bit or at least make it so that she wasn’t craning her neck to look up at him. Roman's smile widened, relishing in her spirit and tenacity. He followed her, his amusement and fascination evident in his eyes.

"I love your spirit, angel,"

He watched her closely, enjoying the way she cowered under him one minute and challenged him the next, as though she had better things to do than entertain his interruptions.

"What?" She demanded once again, her anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface, her patience wearing thin as Roman continued to evade her initial question. “What was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Sensing her growing anger, and understanding that he could only push her so far, he relented. His tone softened ever so slightly. "You didn’t answer my question, kitten," he stated simply, voice smooth as velvet, his use of the nickname signaling a shift in their conversation. When it was Belladonna it was all business, Angel seemed to indicate a good mood or they were in public. But kitten? Well, it still meant a good mood.

Belladonna's anger momentarily gave way to curiosity, her expression softening as she considered his words. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Fine," she conceded, her voice laced with a mix of resignation and curiosity. "What was your question, Roman?" Maybe it had something to do with the investigation. Maybe it was urgent?

“Were you thinking about me last night?” He asked in that dangerously seductive voice. “Somewhere in the area of,” he paused to look at his watch “Two in the morning?”

Belladonna's expression shifted from shock to a hint of embarrassment then disbelief. She attempted to regain her composure, but her emotions were evident on her face. Roman, thoroughly entertained by her reaction, chuckled deeply, relishing in the power he held over her.

"That's what was so important for you to storm into the studio to terrorize me?" Her tone held a hard edge of outrage at his audacity.

He really did live in his own little world.

“Oh, kitten, terrorize you?” His chuckle reverberated deeply. “I might have been a little intense but I think terrorizing is a bit of a stretch, don’t you?” Her jaw dropped, unable to believe him and she turned sharply on her heels to leave him, too angry to face him. His grip on her upper arm prevented her from doing so as he pulled her back to him into another powerful kiss, tongue easily snaking past her lips in a dizzying display of power. “I think you’re too stubborn to admit that you liked how I kissed you,” He did it again, hot tongue forcing its way into her mouth once more, this time with less resistance. His voice was between a snarl and growl, a blend of the two aggressive sounds that went straight to her pussy. “You liked having your hair wrapped around my fist,” With each display of power she could feel the outrage leaving her little by little. “Liked being at my mercy, you liked being a little afraid of me, didn’t you?” His teeth nipped at her lips with a final kiss. “Should we check?” His gaze drifted from her mouth down the blouse she was wearing and settled, he shifted his grip on her hips, his thumbs tucking into the waistband, close to the closure on her jeans. “I wonder just how wet you are, angel…” Fuck.

“Roman, please!” She whispered harshly against him.

“Please, what, kitten?” Roman paused and licked her lower lip “Please, don’t, or please, yes?”

The way she seized up in his arms in an instant seemed to sate him, and he kissed her again, sweeping across her lips now with no resistance at all. His iron grip relaxed into something more akin to a lover's embrace, sliding over the curve of her hips. The tension in his hands softened as his harsh and unyielding grip eased into a gentler and tender touch.

She struggled to get the words out and she wasn’t sure why it was so hard, “Please, don’t.”

Roman's smile remained, he leaned in closer, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze almost lovingly. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her waist and across her back. Their bodies swayed in sync, as though dancing to a rhythm only he could hear. Roman's possessive nature, while still present, transformed into a charming and admittedly desirable stance.

"Oh, kitten, what can I say? I couldn’t sleep last night and I lay awake in bed, picturing you lying in bed, unable to sleep like me, and something told me you must have been thinking of me. You were, weren't you?" he enjoyed the way she couldn’t avoid his gaze. It was a playful accusation, designed to provoke a reaction and it was working.

"What would give you that idea?" Belladonna asked, her voice clinging to a hint of dignity.

She had been thinking of him, hell, she’d gotten off thinking of him, she wanted him. Badly. She’d thought about how good it felt when he toyed with her to orgasm in the back of his club. She could practically still hear the buzzing of the vibrator and the sounds of her own moans and whimpers. Hell, she was pretty sure she could smell his aftershave.

How could he possibly have known?

She let out an exasperated breath and crossed her arms over her chest finally able to put a little space between them, meeting his intense gaze head-on.

"Fine, yeah, I was thinking about you. Satisfied?" Her admission hung in the air, her vulnerability exposed to him. But Roman's response was far from satisfactory. Instead, his gaze darkened, and a less-than-saintly smile curved on his lips.

"Hardly.”

She needed to get back to work because she did actually have a lot of work to do but also because every second she remained alone with Roman was second closer to climbing the man in hopes of a repeat of their last encounter at the club. She knew if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted him again she’d never live it down. Roman’s posture relaxed, though he still reminded her of a hungry wolf, ready to pounce. His grip eased and she slipped from it, attempting to pass Roman, but their close proximity left no chance of avoiding brushing against him. But he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him, keeping her hips flush against his.

As their lips met in a passionate kiss, one meant to bring her enjoyment, every stroke of his tongue against her lips was meant for pleasure not control. Belladonna felt a rush of emotions; the anger that had filled the room moments ago was now forgotten. Roman's presence was intoxicating, a heady mix of smoke and his unique aftershave. It was impossible to resist the allure of his lips, and all her frustrations melted away in that moment.

The intensity was palpable, like an electric current passing between them that left no room for hesitation or doubt. The world outside the conference room had faded into obscurity, not even the distant curious onlookers clicking away with their cameras was of concern. Yet, Roman and Belladonna couldn't care less about prying eyes or the potential photos being snapped. They were too consumed by the taste and touch of the other.

Belladonna's heart raced as she collected herself. With a lingering glance, she nodded in acknowledgment, knowing that their tangled web of desire and manipulation was far from over and she headed back to work determined to put the encounter behind her or at least try to. Roman Sionis was not someone whose presence you could easily shake off.

“Enjoy the rest of your workday, kitten."

~~~

"Are you sure about this, Ms. Black?" he asked, his worry evident in his voice. The driver hesitated for a moment before complying, he clearly wasn’t quite comfortable with the deviation in routine, concern etched on his face. “Mr. Sionis doesn’t like surprises.”

Belladonna met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of nerves and determination. "Don't make me repeat myself. Just drive," she asserted firmly. The driver nodded, understanding that her mind was made, and began the journey to Roman's penthouse.

As the car glided through the city streets, the memory of Roman's aggressive side lingered in her mind, creating a nervous flutter within her. But beneath that nervousness, a resolute determination took hold. She knew she had to establish some ground rules for their deceptive relationship. Or at least try to.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor of the foyer as she headed upstairs as though she owned the place and no one stopped her. Half of getting what you wanted in life was showing up, the other half was acting like it was already yours.

As she entered the opulent living space, she found him, lounging in a plush chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a portrait of privilege. His hair was slightly mussed from a long day, his jacket draped over the back of the chair and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. The urge to crawl into his lap and bite him was a little stronger than she would have liked to admit. A surge of conflicting emotions washed over her—nervousness, determination, and an undeniable thrill that came from being drawn to him.

Her steps were deliberate and her posture composed. She knew she couldn’t let herself be consumed by the whirlwind of whatever the fuck it was he stirred within her.

"Roman," she began, her voice steady. "We need to talk. I think it's time we establish some ground rules for this... arrangement of ours." Her eyes meet his, searching for any sign of resistance.

Roman regarded her with curiosity and amusement, savoring the power dynamics that swirl around them. He took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Is that right, Angel?" he purred, his voice laced with an intoxicating blend of charm and danger.

Belladonna's resolve strengthened, he might not have taken her seriously but at least he was pretending to. She knew she was stepping into uncharted territory, where the lines between deceit and desire blurred. But she had to find her own balance within this complex dance, ready to navigate the intricate web she was entangled in with Roman Sionis.

The tension in the room seemed to ease as Belladonna stood her ground, her eyes fixed on Roman's intrigued stare. His amusement slowly transformed into curiosity, fascinated by what he saw; she was standing up to him.

"What needs sorting out?" Roman inquired, his voice thick with anticipation, before he could utter another word, Belladonna raised a finger to his lips, silencing him with an authoritative tone she used at work.

"Roman," she says, her voice holding just enough of a teasing tone so as to not upset him. "It's my turn to talk, and you need to be a good boy and wait."

His eyes widened then narrowed at her audacity, captivated by this new side of a woman he thought he had pegged. He nodded, a smirk dancing across his lips, willing to play along for now. Belladonna set her phone down on a nearby table facing him, its screen filled with missed calls and unread messages. She met Roman's gaze, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"How about thirty phone calls a day?" Roman offered her a shrug as if to say ‘Can you blame me?’ The same way a teenage boy who’d been caught with porn in his room would. “When I’m at work, I’m at work. I don’t check my phone like some lovestruck teen girl. I’ve never done that for a man, and I don’t plan to start."

Roman leaned back, studying her, appreciating this new side to her, the one that said she wasn’t going to put up with his bullshit.

"Go on," he encouraged, his voice filled with a mix of anticipation and amusement.

"I know I agreed to answer whenever you call, but you know, that doesn't work for me," she asserted. "I can't have my phone constantly buzzing, interrupting my work and personal life. When this arrangement ends, I still have bills to pay, and I won't risk losing my job just because 'daddy' likes to keep tabs." Her enticing use of the word daddy didn’t go unnoticed.

Roman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, he leaned forward loosening another button on his shirt. "Is that all?"

Belladonna, emboldened by her own words, shook her head. "No, Roman. You also need to keep your visits to a minimum and a little on the less dramatic side. This is one of the busiest weeks of my year. My time is valuable and I don't have time to stroke your ego. Keep the visits to a minimum, no more whisking me away in the middle of a shoot or interfering with my workday."

The room was silent as Roman processed her words. His hands laced behind his head and a small smile played on his lips as if this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.

"Consider your requests acknowledged. I’ll take them under advisement."

She shook her head with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “Not good enough.” The room went still, that wasn’t something anyone told Roman Sionis,

Not good enough, that was his line.

Roman's eyes narrowed at Belladonna's boldness, his amusement mingling with a hint of irritation. “Kitten, do I really need to remind you of my other options regarding our arrangement and its fluid state?” The veiled threat in his words hung in the air, attempting to unsettle her, but she remained unfazed. In fact, her confidence seemed to grow stronger, fueled by her realization of the leverage she held.

She met Roman's gaze squarely, undeterred by his attempt to undermine her. "Roman," she says calmly, taking the whiskey from him and enjoying a sip. Roman had shot people for less, but the fact that she was acting as though she was bulletproof was just too damn interesting to him. "I understand that you’re used to getting what you want. But I have options too. For instance, if something were to happen to me, if I were to go missing or face any harm, I think we both know who the primary suspect would be. Might be tough to explain to the cops. Especially considering your sweet and well-timed visit to my studio today, in front of all my coworkers.” Belladonna's words struck a chord and his expression briefly soured.”Some of the biggest names in the business, in fact,”

To further emphasize her point, she pulled out her phone once again, quickly navigating to one social media platform after another. She presented a selection of candid shots of the two of them, captured in the studio, and the conference room, their chemistry evident for all to see.

"Seems we're already trending," she stated confidently with a subtle assurance. The realization dawned upon Roman that their interactions had already garnered attention, and any sudden disappearance or harm befalling Belladonna would undoubtedly raise suspicions and unwanted scrutiny. It seemed bulletproof was an accurate description of his Angel.

Roman's expression oscillated between irritation and begrudging amusement. He contemplated the situation, weighing the potential consequences and the path of least resistance he so often sought. A smirk curved his lips as he conceded, "Well played, Belladonna."

Though tension still lingered in the air, Belladonna's assertiveness and resourcefulness left an impression on Roman, challenging his control and providing a reminder that she was not easily manipulated.

He watched her closely as she slipped off her coat and stepped a bit closer to him, presenting the alternative. The proximity was deliberate, an assertion of her own power within this delicate negotiation. Roman's eyes remain fixed on her, waiting for her to continue.

"So here's my compromise. Call me and text me as much as you want. My assistant, Daisy, will have my phone, and she'll inform me when you call. And if I can, I'll take a moment to call you back." Roman's instinct was to protest, to declare that such an arrangement wasn’t sufficient for him, but before he could voice his objection, Belladonna cut him off, leaving no room for argument.

"And for every reasonable amount of phone calls I miss, I will do something that makes life easier for you," She hoped he didn’t ask her how she could make life easier for him because the truth was, she didn’t know. There wasn’t really anything she could provide Roman Sionis that he couldn’t get himself but she did know that for the moment their fates were intertwined and it bought her a little negotiating power.

Belladonna gracefully slipped onto the arm of the chair where Roman sat, perched like an ornament. Her next words spilled forth, filling the air with a mixture of challenge and temptation.

"And if you feel the need to keep tabs on me that badly," her voice low and laden with subtle allure, "you can surprise me at work with my favorite coffee between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. I will be a very grateful girlfriend, making sure that whatever ends up on social media next is something that makes you look very good. All I’m asking is a little restraint."

Roman said nothing at first, he just stared at her. But then his expression shifted, his irritation tempered by a mix of intrigue and a newfound appreciation for Belladonna's assertiveness. He contemplated her proposition, recognizing the balance she sought to establish in their relationship only an idiot never strove to improve their end of the deal. After a beat, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well, well, kitten," he finally responded, his voice carrying a tone of admiration. "You certainly know how to negotiate." He nodded appreciatively. "I'm impressed with your presentation, and I'm even feeling generous enough to accept your conditions," His smirk faltered and it turned dangerous, a sudden pull found Belladonna pulled into his lap expectedly and aggressively. "But you're assuming a lot if you think I even care what other people think, Angel."

For a split second fear flooded her, that tone in his voice, sharp as a knife, scared her. However Roman wasn’t the first bully Belladonna had encountered, inexperienced people let their fear drive them to abandon their roles, and experienced people just play them harder. She shifted in his lap, making herself more comfortable and probably causing him a little bit of discomfort in the process. Her hand gently stroked his cheek, coaxing him to look into her eyes.

"But you do care, Roman. You care quite a bit. One black sheep of the family to another, I know it when I see it."

Her touch lingered on his skin offering nothing but a pleasurable sensation with no further motives, a gesture meant to anchor their connection as she delved deeper into her assessment of Roman Sionis. "You want to be liked, you want to be loved, respected, and accepted. I can help you with that.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, captivated by her words and the implications they carried. Belladonna skillfully wove a hypothetical scenario, illustrating a picture of the power that public perception held. Her fingers glided through his hair in a calculated, almost loving manner, further entwining him in her persuasive web.

“The tabloids aren’t exactly kind. They called you a,” she took her phone and checked her source, “Spoiled, temper tantrum-throwing, brat.” Roman sneered, all traces of amusement were gone and his eyes held contempt. “But,” She set her phone down and cozied up to him, cradling his head in her hands with a lover's touch, gently stroking his temple. “Everyone loves seeing a bad boy reformed. Least for a little while.” Her touch remained tender, her fingers continuing to run through his hair, creating a sense of comfort and intimacy. “They just need to get to know the Roman Sionis I know.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, “The one that visits me at work and tells me how beautiful I am, the one that brings me coffee because he knows how busy I get, the man who calls me his Angel more than my own name. I’m sure Gotham would love to get to know that Roman Sionis…”

Roman, slightly taken aback by her composure, responded with a hint of caution, he had to admit he rather liked how she thought. The tabloids had long been a source of irritation for him.

"That's quite an agenda you have there, What makes you think you can make it happen?"

"I’m a fashion photographer, Roman. It's my job to make people look good" Her fingers grazed his scalp, gently tugging on the strands of his hair, eliciting a tremor of pleasure from him. "So, how about it, Roman? Do we have a deal?"

“You know, Angel, no one comes in here and strong-arms me into anything I don’t want.”

Belladonna leaned in closer, her touch lingering in his hair, her eyes meeting his. "I’m flattered that you think I’m capable of ‘strong arming’ a man like you. I like to think of it more as a renegotiation of terms, terms that suit us both.” Her confidence was unwavering.

“I don’t think you understand the buttons you’re pressing here, Belladonna.” He couldn’t help but be captivated by her, his gaze locked with hers. “I think we have a deal, though.” Belladonna's grin widened as she met his gaze. Breathing a sigh of relief, she went to disentangle herself from him but found she couldn’t. “How should we seal this new deal?” Roman asked, sounding like a spoiled child who didn’t get his treat after he was good.

Before he could prompt her, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that carried a mix of challenge and victory. Slow, sensual, and smoldering on his lips, the type of kiss he never gave a woman but he ate up when lavished upon him like Belladonna was doing. Roman was a spoiled tantrum-throwing brat, but that just made it easier to get under his skin. It was the roadmap for how to deal with him; give him what he wanted. The soft warmth of her tongue licking at his lower lip as if pleading for him to let her taste him, he smirked against her lips and conceded. His lips parted for her, he could taste espresso, he could smell a hint of cigarette smoke as well as the scent of citrus on her skin and hair. Each time he’d kissed her he’d been in control, but now he relinquished a little bit of that precious control, letting the woman in his lap enjoy it for a few minutes. She sucked on his tongue and nipped at his lip as she worked her way back out of his mouth.

"Belladonna fucking Black," he murmured, his admiration evident, he hadn’t expected to enjoy that as much as he did. He decided he wanted more.

However, his expectation for another passionate kiss was cut short when she slipped out of his lap and gracefully put her coat back on. It caught Roman off guard.

“Just where do you think you’re going, Angel?”

With a hint of mischief, Belladonna gave him another loving kiss before delivering the news, "Sorry, baby, this Angel is flying home. She's had a very long day." Her lips brushed against his briefly, she whispered something she knew would rile him up or piss him off. “Be a good boy for me and I’ll kiss you like that every time I see you.”

She saw the feral look in his eye, how his chest rose and fell in breaths that were strictly controlled, she’d seen that look in men before. If she wasn’t wrong and she was fairly certain she wasn’t, Roman Sionis enjoyed being praised.

Well, I can work with that.

To her surprise, Roman released her and rose up out of his chair, towering over her as though he was sizing her up, debating if he should or should not be a good boy, was the reward worth the obedience? She took a tentative step backward, not turning her back to him just yet, as she made her way towards the door.

“Night Zsasz,” Belladonna nonchalantly greeted as she passed Zsasz, who had been lurking in the shadows of the room.

Zsasz, stepping out into full view, watching the exchange between Roman and Belladonna with a mix of surprise and intrigue, he couldn't help but voice his astonishment.

"Did that really just happen?" Zsasz asked a genuine sense of disbelief in his voice.

Roman, wearing the satisfied smile that belonged to a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, nodded in response. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where Belladonna disappeared.

"Yes, it did."

Known for his own dark inclinations, Zsasz surprised Roman with his next statement. "I like her."

Roman's surprise was evident as he turned to look at Zsasz, contemplating the weight of his words. A sense of curiosity grew within him, as he wondered how this new dynamic would unfold.

~~~

As soon as she stepped through her front door into the warmth of her loft apartment, her cheerful demeanor quickly faded, replaced by a frown upon spotting someone seated on the couch.

Benjamin Cyrus Black, a distinguished man with a salt-and-pepper beard, reclined comfortably, his presence commanding attention. He held a lit Cuban cigar, its fragrant smoke mingling with the air, it smelled good on Roman but on her father it just smelled like oppression.

With a thinly veiled politeness that barely concealed her annoyance, Belladonna greeted him, her tone reminiscent of one used when dealing with an unwanted telemarketer. "Hello, Dad."

Benjamin looked up from his contemplative state and offered a nod in response. "Hello, Belladonna," he replied, his voice carrying a tone of authority with a touch of indifference.

As the room filled with a tense silence, Belladonna fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's presence even as a grown woman, she was still afraid of him. Their relationship has been strained for years, marked by their conflicting personalities and differing views on life. She knew that engaging in conversation with him was often an exercise in frustration.

Taking a moment to compose herself, Belladonna crossed her arms over her chest, readying herself for whatever conversation her father had come to initiate.

The loft, once a sanctuary for Belladonna, now held an added layer of tension, as the clash between father and daughter loomed on the horizon.

Chapter Seven

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cuubism · 5 months

Text

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

#this is SO silly #hob is literally the most average guy and dream is salivating with lust and completely ferally obsessed with him #it's mutual tho dream is literally a gremlin and hob is like 😍 wow he's beautiful he's like an angel #and then they lived happily ever after #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #sex scene between these two would be funny as fuck i think hob would touch dream once and he would come instantly and maybe also faint

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