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ichorai · 1 year ago

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hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part five (m).

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 10.9k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, mentions of death, a lot of sexual/suicidal jokes and general foul language, a lot of business talk, unprotected penetrative sex, roman’s implied demisexuality, dick pics and weddings

a/n ; and that's the end of s3!

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Roman had gotten into the habit of sending you pictures of his dick every now and then. Apparently, having sexual intercourse with Roman also entailed an afterparty consisting of dick pics and filthy messages. Not that you weren’t enjoying them, he really had a pretty cock—but you were growing increasingly paranoid that people, maybe hackers, maybe curious coworkers looking over your shoulder, were going to find out about the salacious pictures and texts he’d been sending you. And how bad would it look to have people find out your boss was sending you pictures of his penis?

Maybe it was his way of getting you to stay. Really, it just translated to: Hey, look at my dick! Remember this? We fucked, do you remember that? Do you like it? Please tell me you like it.

You found it strangely endearing, in a way. A lot of emphasis on strange.

And now, as you were just settling into the lovely, spacious room in Italy for Caroline’s wedding, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Another dick pic. How lovely. You smiled down at your screen as you replied with:

looking great ro :)

A second later, you asked: you going down for welcome drinks?

Yup, he texted back. I’ll come by.

Not three minutes later, he swung your door open without bothering to knock, peeking his head through. He was dressed in rather casual attire for a wedding event—pale blue slacks, a white shirt, and an unbuttoned canary-hued top.

“You dressing down as a way to tell your mom you don’t approve?” you queried as you smoothed down your own pantsuit, a soft shade of purple over a cream turtleneck.

“Fuck you. You look great, by the way. Like a jizzed-up grape,” Roman snorted, linking your arm with his when you stepped out. “I need to talk to her about getting a prenup—this Munion character is a walking fucking sinkhole. Shiv is being an avoidant bitch about it.”

A hum fell from your lips as the two of you began making your way downstairs and out to the gardens, where the event was taking place. “Shiv’s always been more prickly when it comes to Caroline. It’s a warped mirror to her, you know?”

“She’s my mom, too. I get it,” Roman said with a shrug. He didn’t, not really.

The two of you spotted Caroline chatting with Peter, and you nudged Roman into their direction. After pleasant greetings were exchanged (well, less pleasant on Roman’s end), you excused yourself from the rather tense atmosphere to go walk around and grab a few drinks and bites of food. You knew Roman would be confronting Caroline on the prenup and his distaste for Peter, and you really didn’t want to be around for that hot mess.

Instead, you found yourself engaged in a lovely conversation with a pretty, raven-haired woman about the last book you’ve read, genuinely interested in what she had to say. The joy was short-lived, however, because Shiv stormed up to you, only barely apologizing to the woman before dragging you away.

“What? What’s going on?” you asked, incredulous.

“Check Matsson’s Twitter. Jesus. What the fuck is going on, do you know? Is this a move of some sort?”

Pulling out your phone, you quickly opened up his profile, reading the latest tweet.

Going to Macau. Feeling lucky.

You narrowed your eyes. Soon enough, Gerri and Roman appeared, the former looking apprehensive and the latter in more denial.

“It could be nothing,” Roman said, which made Shiv narrow her eyes. “Fucking social media fireworks.”

“He’s always been one to tweet bullshit when he’s high off his ass,” you tried to reason, reading the five words over again. “Remember that time he said he was going to release his sex tape? That blew over in a few days.”

Clearing her throat, Gerri argued back, “Well, yeah, it could be bullshit. Or it could be him trying to up his price.”

“Is he just rocking the boat or is he trying to blow up the deal?” Shiv asked.

From behind his wife, Tom chimed in, “Maybe he’s just going to Macau, and he just happens to feel lucky.”

Roman stepped away to leave Matsson a voice message, because none of his calls were going through. You sucked in a breath, wondering if you wasted an entire evening at Kendall’s disaster of a birthday party just for Matsson to fuck you over the ass.

God, you hated him.

After sending a few messages, Roman popped up beside you. “I don’t know, he’s a fucking trickster. It’s nothing.”

“Mmkay, so is he going to steal our watches and saw the fucking deal in half?” Shiv deadpanned.

“Hm. Maybe,” Roman reluctantly drawled.

A frown pinched her lips thin. “You’re supposed to be inside this, Roman.”

“I am inside this. Leave it. Why don’t you go find someone else’s dick to tug on? Oh, sorry Tom, didn’t see you there.”

They were bickering like children, as they often did. Tom blinked in mild confusion.

“Hey, okay, why don’t we get in contact with his PR team instead of him? They’re supposed to be working with us on this. None of this should be leaking onto personal accounts until the deal is met,” you calmly said. Gerri nodded, sending message after message to Karolina to get on their asses.

Though, it was far harder to stay calm when Kendall approached the group, face sullen, his phone held out to show Matsson’s twitter. To your surprise, his head was now shaven.

“Matsson going nut-nut, huh?” It was said as if it was supposed to be a joke, but his voice was monotonous, and his exterior cold. “Keep a hold of that shit, bro.”

“It’s all under control, motherfucker,” Roman hissed. “And where are you off to? Going to go score some junk in Naples?”

Kendall didn’t show any reaction to that. “No, just our mother throwing me out of her party.”

“Oh,” Roman replied. “Nice.”

“Where are my kids?” Kendall asked, before wandering off to go search for them.

Rolling his eyes, Rome snickered, “What a surprise—Ken doesn’t know where his kids are.”

“SEC is going to be all over this,” Gerri said, shaking her head.

“Ooh, gummy love bite from the fucking toddlers. I’m so scared,” Roman scoffed. “I think he likes us, I do. I can feel it in my gut.”

Pulling a sour face, you told him, “I really don’t think we should be banking the future of the company on your gut, Rome.”

It was then that Matsson tweeted again. This time, it was just three emojis: a game controller, crossed fingers, and an eggplant.

“He’s fucking us,” you muttered, which made Roman’s head jerk in your direction.

“Nah, come on. Don’t be so paranoid—we’re good. I think we’re good!” Roman insisted.

Brows raised, Shiv asserted, “Yeah, well if he blows this deal, then who is left for us, exactly?”

Before Roman could reply, you all caught sight of Logan making his way through the crowd, Marcia hanging off one arm and Kerry trailing behind the two of them.

“Jesus. He really doesn’t give a single, solitary fuck, does he?” snickered Roman, gaze following after his dad.

Caroline wove through to stand in front of you and Shiv, inviting the two of you to the bachelorette party. Shiv fumbled with protests, but Roman had insisted she went. When Caroline looked to you expectantly, you nodded your head and told her you’d be there, but not without a reluctant glance in Roman’s direction, who rubbed your back in an almost consoling manner.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be spying on you guys with a pair of binoculars,” he leaned forward to whisper.

“Not creepy at all, Roman. You sure know how to charm me.”

Nearly an hour later, the bachelorette party set off a little ways away from the hotel. There were drinks, there was gossip, and there was laughter. By nightfall, the party began to fizzle away, and you were more than ready to head back to the hotel. Find Roman and rope him into sleeping next to you, like he often did.

Though, as you descended down the stairs of the building the bachelorette party was occupying, you weren’t all that surprised to see Roman leaning against the bannister, a rogue smile on his lips.

“Have fun up there?”

“Mhm.” You kissed his cheek once, then another time for good measure. He smelled like limes and expensive cologne. You liked the limes more than the cologne.

“Not too much fun, I hope.”

You snorted. “Were you waiting for me here?”

“No, I just really like loitering around Italian streets at three in the morning.”

There was a warm sort of feeling simmering within your chest. “It’s only eleven o’clock, Roman.”

“Close enough.”

Roman rather liked the way your hair had gotten a little more tousled as the night passed on. You muffled a yawn, leaning against him as the two of you set off for the hotel.

“Matsson?” you asked tiredly, voice hoarse with overuse.

“He left me a message—said the tweets were just fucking around. You were right. As always. Lawyers gave him the spooks—he’s flying back to Switzerland.”

You hummed again, pleased. “Good. You did good, Roman.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him, soft. “And what about your dad? How’s he taking it?”

“Gerri says Dad thinks Matsson is trying to fuck him. I don’t know. He’s just gotta ride it out,” Roman said, shrugging. “They want me to go save the deal. Go see him.”

“You’re leaving me alone in Italy?” you crooned, laughing slightly.

Without hesitation, Roman offered, “Come with me. Can get you away from Mumsie and her nosy little fingers.”

You pulled a wince. “Mmh, no thanks. Didn’t like the way Matsson eye-fucked me the entire time I sat near him at Kendall’s party. Don’t want a repeat of him getting distracted.”

“Good to know I didn’t just imagine that,” Roman murmured. His head drooped, hair dropping over his forehead.

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by a few people passing by, cheering in broken Italian. Drunk party guests, you assumed.

“What’re you thinking? Like—is Matsson… is he good for us?”

“No,” you said, much quicker than Roman had expected. “I don’t like him. He’s a flight risk. But he’s big—it would be a huge fucking deal acquiring GoJo. As in, change the company fundamentally, kind of a big deal. Could be good for the company in the long run, maybe. I don’t see us working well with Matsson, though.”

Roman studied your side profile, eyes roaming the bridge of your nose, your drooping eyelids, your parted lips. It was dark, but the moon’s glow seemed to light up the most beautiful parts of you. Or maybe it was just the Italian air.

“Well, I guess we’re just gonna have to see.”

“Yeah.” You yawned again.

“Okay, yeah, come on, sleepy. I don’t have the arm strength to carry you there.”

Matsson wanted a merger of equals. You should’ve guessed, with how he was talking at Kendall’s party, not wanting another man’s shadow looming over him. And… asking about Logan’s death.

“I hate that guy,” you mumbled to Roman as the two of you walked to the meeting room, where Logan had called for everyone to assemble. “The nerve of him…”

“I think it’s off the table but… Gerri’s pressuring me to push the deal forward. I’m already so stressed I’m jerking dust.” He rolled his shoulders and frowned. “Think Dad’s gonna eat it?”

You spared him an unsure glance. “I mean, what other choice does he have?”

With a heavy sigh, Roman swung open the glass door and the two of you filed into the meeting room. Logan waved for you to take a seat. Around the table was Gerri, Kerry, Shiv, and Tom—Karl and Frank were on call, displayed on a big screen TV. You sank down beside Gerri, with Roman across the table from you.

“Now, before we get the whole circus here, I wanna get a sense of what’s going on,” Logan announced. “Is he a Twitter panty-flasher? Or is he a serious person?”

“Uh, well, he is a serious person,” Roman said, which earned him a disbelieving scoff from Shiv. “But, Dad, he thinks there’s value that hasn’t been priced in yet. He’s gunning for a merger of equals. So I guess that kills it, right?”

“What? A merger of equals?” Shiv parroted, staring at her brother as if he’d grown a second head.

“Well, yeah. He’s got, like, twelve of the prime Asian sports leagues under GoJo’s belt, and he’s gonna fold it all into the platform. Live sports, games, betting—it’s a fucking growth bomb.”

Narrowing her eyes, Shiv hesitantly broached, “Okay, but… fifty-fifty board, all stocks? Dad, what, splits control?”

“Yes, Siobhan,” Roman exasperatedly said. “That’s what he wants.”

Everyone looked to Logan, who was silent for a few moments. There was a contemplative look to his gaze.

“But the guy isn’t a fuckhead?” he asked Roman.

“Oh, no. The tweeting was a move.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his large hands on the table. “He’s not some big baby who shits for clicks?”

“No, Dad. He’s, uh, he’s—I know people, Dad. I’m a fucking people sniffer.”

Shiv was glaring at her brother, and you pursed your lips.

“Because I can win any round with a boxer fuck, but I don’t know how to knock out a clown,” Logan deadpanned.

“He’s not a clown, he’s a tough motherfucker,” Roman insisted. “It’s what you would’ve done, right? He just maximized his leverage.”

Still not happy with the whole ordeal, Shiv shook her head. “Yeah, but merger of equals? That sounds ridiculous!”

“No such thing,” Logan gruffed.

Tom, by his right, nodded in agreement. “Always a top dog.”

“Family stake will be seriously diluted,” Karl warned, his voice crackling on the call.

“Could be just an on-paper thing,” you added. “Real control rests on the family if we negotiate who gets board seats.”

“Yeah. We could still be the puppy-fuckers here,” said Roman. “I think Matsson would let us craft it so that we keep balance of the board. He just wants the freedom and the status. GoJo Royco, I mean, who gives a fuck? Let him have the logo, we take the wheel.”

Sensing her father was being swayed, Shiv finally caved. “I mean, it would be real-scale. It’s a legitimate way of staying relevant.”

Frank and Karl weren’t happy, seeing as a merger of equals would threaten their positions with newer, better replacements. You almost laughed upon seeing Frank’s pixelated, unsure features.

“Dad and Gerri, you guys would stay with your hands on the tiller. Their price rise is real! It’s a proper fucking streamer. Would save that sector of Waystar completely. The future is really boiled down to: movies, TV, music, games, sports, eSports, VR, AR, betting—fucking everything for everyone, and Matsson can get us there,” Roman argued.

With a slight dip of his head, Logan said, “We can’t afford to walk away now. This is our crutch. Must be worth a conversation, son. Call in the team. Let’s get the banker fucks on this.”

Roman grinned victoriously, his eyes meeting yours.

You smiled back, pulling out your phone to shoot him a text.

you’re a fucking champ rome

The GoJo bankers began to file in, and you put your phone away. Roman’s buzzed on the table, and he glanced down at the screen, beam unwavering. He shot you a sly look, before tapping his keyboard a few times, deciding now was a good time to send you the picture of his hard dick he’d taken early in the morning, while you were still asleep.

dinner to celebrate? eat this, fuckface

He watched you expectantly, but you were busy greeting one of the bankers, shaking her hand. And then, his father’s phone buzzed. Logan slid on his reading glasses, clicking on the new text notification from his son.

Dread sank down to the pits of his stomach once he realized what he’d done.

Oh, fuck.

Logan stared angrily at his son, who sunk further down on his chair. You were still chatting to the banker, but halted the conversation when Logan suddenly stood up.

“I need five,” he said.

And with that, he was gone. That was the quickest you’d seen him walk in a long time.

Shiv shot you and Roman a confused look, before following after him.

You excused yourself, too, rounding the table to put a hand on Roman’s shoulder. To your confusion, he seemed to jerk away from your touch.

“Hey, what—? Rome, what’s going on?”

He sucked in a breath, letting you pull him out of the meeting room. The two of you stood in the hallway, just a few feet away from the conference room Shiv and Logan had disappeared into.

“I maybe might have sent Dad a, uh, a picture of my dick,” Roman nervously said, scratching at the back of his head. His arms seemed to shake.

“Oh,” you replied, far too stunned to say anything else. “Were you… was it for…”

“Yeah. It was for you. Fuck.”

The two of you stared at each other.

“Will he… oh, Rome. Fuck.” You didn’t know what else to say. Logan wouldn’t hurt Roman with GoJo right in the next room, right?

But you weren’t so sure.

Inside the conference room, Shiv winced to her dad whilst handing his phone back, “Yeah, he sent you his dick by mistake.”

“Well, that was pretty obvious.”

“It was meant for Y/N,” she said. “He calls her fuck-face all the time.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, they’re… they’re weird with each other. Everyone knows. Frankly, I think it’s fucking disgusting.”

“Yeah? They fucking?”

Shiv spluttered for words. “I don’t really—I don’t—I mean—” She shook her head. “Regardless, this… this is grounds for a potential lawsuit. Boss sexually harassing his employee kind of situation.”

Logan took his glasses off. “Isn’t this Roman just being Roman? They’ve been good pals since babies.”

Shiv chose her words carefully. “No. No, Dad, I think this could be a potential problem. This could be bad for us, you know. Y/N could use this as blackmail if she wanted to. And Roman, he’s… he’s a loose canon. People say he used to get jerked off by his personal trainer.”

It was then that Logan bellowed Roman’s name so loud, the very walls seemed to shake. Roman flinched, and you gently patted his arms, urging him to go.

“Put in a good word for you,” Shiv told her twin as he hurried in.

Roman twisted his hands nervously, only barely managing to catch the phone that Logan angrily slid over.

“Are you a sicko?” Logan asked, voice harsh. “What is this? Why do you send them?”

“Jesus, Dad…” Roman sucked in a breath. “It’s just—you know, we’re… it’s like, here’s my dick, or whatever.”

His brows cinched. “What? Like a ‘fuck you’?”

“No, it’s just… people send each other pics of their dicks. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking normal. You ever heard of dick pics, Dad?”

Rolling his eyes, Logan retorted, “Well we do publish a number of popular newspapers, so yes, son. We probably invented the fucking words. But why?”

Roman’s mouth opened and closed. He shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. It’s just something people do.”

“You have a problem, son?” Logan asked, watching Roman like a hawk would its prey. “What happened to that nice piece of tail you were with?”

“Uh, Tabitha? Yeah, she’s… she’s not really in the picture anymore. We had a few issues.”

Logan frowned. “She wasn’t messy. Y/N is messy. She’s a good girl, don’t get me wrong, but she’s messy.”

“Well, uh…” Roman shrank under his father’s glare. “I like her.”

“Oh, you like her? Fucking solves everything, doesn’t it? It’s one thing for you two to be plastered all over gossip tabloids. It’s another thing entirely for it to be real. And I don’t like things going on that I don’t know about.”

It didn’t go past Logan’s notice when Roman’s voice cracked a bit. “It’s all fine. Nothing’s going to happen. We’re… we’re friends.”

A terse second of silence. Roman worked a hand over his jaw.

“Go on. Fuck off.”

Roman made his way to the door. “So, what’s… what’s going to happen?”

“You end it. Or you fire her. Whichever is easier for you, son.”

A pained look crossed Roman’s features. “Well, uh, I’m not a radical feminist or anything, but I think, maybe, we shouldn’t fire her for getting pictures of my dick?”

“Then you end it.”

Roman cleared his throat. He lingered by the doorway as if he had something else to say, but he eventually turned on his heel and left the room.

Meanwhile, Shiv had beckoned you out of the hall to sit in a different room, her expression contorted into one of false security.

“What’d he say?” you asked her. “Is he… did he get a—?”

“Yeah. Roman’s dick. Real classy,” she replied, before beckoning you out of the hall to sit in a different room. “So… I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You tilted your head. “Uh, yeah. It’s fine, Shiv, really.”

“Uh-huh. Has this kind of thing happened before?”

You studied her, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Can’t really remember.”

“Right, yeah, of course. But if it did… did you ask him to stop?”

Fed up, you held your hands out. “Listen, Shiv, I’m not going to give a statement to you. I wouldn’t jeopardize Roman or the company like that.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you were welcoming these, right? Because that would be… an abuse of power on Roman’s end, wouldn’t it?”

You drew yourself back. “Roman and I are friends. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure. Things are just really delicate right now. Can’t afford to fuck up, right? Do you want to make a formal complaint about this situation? You’re the victim here, Y/N.”

“Woah, uhm… can I have some time to think about it?”

Humming, Shiv nodded. “Of course. Just know that… you should really report this to HR. It’s a big deal, this.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Shiv.” You hesitantly turned away, biting down on the inside of your cheek anxiously. You stood out of the meeting room for a second, trying to compose yourself. Plastering on a professional smile, you swung the door open and stepped inside.

Late that night, long after the meeting had ended, Roman slipped into your room, making sure nobody was around to see.

He kissed you then, fingers cradling your face as if he was expecting you would crumble away right in front of him. When you pulled away, hands lightly pushing at his chest, he mumbled that he needed this.

And so you let him pull you apart. Kissing you, touching you, holding you.

Your clothes were gone at some point—you hadn’t even registered taking them off, and he guided you over his lap. You rode him then, slow and steady, his hands roaming over your sides. Your foreheads were touching, the both of your moans muffled into kisses.

It was much more intimate than the last time the two of you had sex—Roman shook beneath the pads of your fingers, rife with fear. Sex was fine, but intimacy… that scared him more than anything. But he felt safe with you. It felt right with you.

And, this time it didn’t feel like Roman had a point to prove.

He came first, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth sinking into the flesh of your breast, panting wetly against your skin. You were close to follow, shuddering against him, your hips slowly rocking to a grinding halt.

You left to clean yourself up a minute later, and came back to Roman sprawled over the bed, half-asleep.

You laid down beside him and brushed the hair away from his forehead.

“Dad told me to fire you,” he mumbled, almost slurring his words. “If I didn’t want to break up with you, that is.”

“Break up?” you echoed. “But we aren’t together.”

“Right. Sure, yeah.” He sounded hurt, but he wrapped his arms around you, nonetheless.

With no hesitation, you curled your leg up over his. “You gonna fire me, Romey?”

“No. You’re the only thing that makes sense in this fucking shitstorm.”

“Okay.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. You were never really worried on that end. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be less… open and affectionate in public. It’ll blow over eventually. We’ll fade away, and nobody’s going to care.”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay.”

The two of you fell asleep like that, entangled in each other, dreaming of tooth necklaces and strawberry popsicles.

The next morning, you heard from Shiv that Kendall had nearly drowned himself in the pool while everybody was at the meeting, and he’d stayed over at the hospital overnight. At your worried expression, she reassured you that he was fine. One too many limoncellos, apparently.

To make matters all the worse, GoJo’s market cap had overtaken Waystar’s, and they were apparently also considering other options. Roman and Logan were off to go see Matsson to make sure he wasn’t pulling the plug. You mumbled a low good luck to Roman, not wanting to do or say anything else with his father watching the two of you like a vulture.

Hours later, when he returned, there was a slightly panicked look to his eye. He pulled you into the gardens, where it was mostly empty, save for an elderly Italian couple sniffing the roses a good distance away from you.

“No more merger of equals,” Roman hurriedly whispered to you, which made your eyes widen. “Matsson insinuated that GoJo eats Waystar—and he stays top dog.”

Your brows cinched. “What did your dad say?”

“Nothing. Told me to leave. But Matsson said he’d go with a handsome settlement.” The distress was clear across his features. “And where does that leave us? Fucking—kicked out to the curb with bread crumbs and cardboard boxes.”

“Jesus,” you breathed out. “Well… did he offer you an out?”

Roman ran a hand through his hair. “No. Just—just don’t tell Shiv, okay? We’ll stick to the merger of equals story.”

“Okay.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in what you hoped to be a comforting fashion. “C’mon. It’s time to face Mr. Poseidon. Shiv and Con are already waiting.”

“Poseidon, huh? And who does that make me? Hades?”

You arched a brow. “Hermes. Duh.”

The two of you made your way out of the gardens, to the fancy little tables Caroline had set up. Shiv and Connor were sitting near the balcony, bearing a particularly breathtaking view of the Italian countryside. Rolling green fields and slanted, multi-hued rooftops. It wasn’t too bad of a place to get hitched, you wistfully thought, shooting Roman a glance. If Shiv had noticed anything between the two of you, she didn’t say anything. To that, you were grateful.

He was explaining the merger of equals situation to his siblings (save Kendall, who still had yet to appear), and Connor grew angry with the fact that he wasn’t informed. He didn’t like Matsson, but for a wildly different reason than you.

“Okay, well, if you guys don’t mind, I’m a little churned up about my big brother trying to kill himself, so I can’t really think about that shit right now, thanks.” Roman made a high-pitched noise, before leaning forward and snatching a piece of garlic bread off of Connor’s plate. “I’m fucking starving. Can we get some more food here?”

“It’s a buffet, you dipshit,” Shiv told him.

Before Roman could get up to grab food, Kendall turned the corner, stiffly making his way to his siblings, and you. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of expensive, brown-tinted sunglasses, doing a great job of hiding the bags beneath his eyes. He hadn’t slept a wink at the hospital.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hello,” Roman chirpily greeted. Only Roman could somehow make the word hello sound sarcastic.

Kendall’s hands twitched at his sides. “So, what is this?”

“Take a seat,” Shiv said, and Connor patted the head of the empty chair beside him.

Kendall scoffed, but sat nonetheless.

“So,” Shiv started, looking awfully uncomfortable being somewhat emotionally open with her brother, “we just wanted to get together and let you know that… we love you.”

A soft breath, and a tilt of his head. “What?”

Connor nodded. “I love you straight up.”

“We care about you, Ken,” you added, feeling mildly guilty that the last time the two of you spoke, you were yelling at him about something as stupid as a popsicle.

“I suppose I don’t want you to die,” Roman lamented, pouring himself a glass of wine.

“What is this, guys? What’s the angle?” Kendall asked.

In a placating tone, Connor said, “No angle. We were just worried that you… consciously or subconsciously tried to… you know…”

“Are you trying to shut me down?” gruffed Kendall.

“Uhm, you kind of tried to kill yourself, dude, and that’s not cool?” Roman inputted, avoiding eye contact.

“I fell off an inflatable.”

Clearing your throat, you gently said, “You were drunk. And your kids were there. Comfrey had to fish you out. I heard that Soph was crying behind the rose bushes, Kendall.”

At his daughter’s name, Kendall’s face seemed to twist with an unmistakable sort of anguish. “Is this a fucking intervention? Why do you guys get to do an intervention on me?”

“Seriously?” Roman asked.

“No, well, maybe you need an intervention.” He gestured to Shiv. “You need an intervention, Con. You two need one, too.”

“Yeah, totally, but, like—you’re kind of the top of the pile, right now. We can do me tomorrow, yeah?” Roman said.

Shiv pursed her lips in agreement. “Suicides kind of jump the line.”

“I fell off my fucking floatie!”

“You’re an addict,” Shiv stated plainly. “You’re addicted to booze and to drugs and relationships and sex and work and family drama.”

The siblings decided to argue a bit more, until Connor, fed up, exclaimed that he was the eldest son, and that he loved all of you, and he’d proposed to Willa and nobody even bothered to congratulate him. Your face fell with guilt, but you didn’t try to stop him as he stormed away. The conversation died out after that, with Roman complaining that he was too hungry to think straight, leaving for the buffet table, and Kendall straight up leaving without even saying goodbye.

Not wanting to be left alone with Shiv, you shot Roman a message saying you’d be in your room, and left the table.

The wedding started two hours later. You’d managed to squeeze in a nice nap and a quick shower before, meeting Roman at the lobby with a refreshed smile.

“You look great,” he told you, genuine. His hands seemed to reach out for you, but he winced and pulled himself back. “Now that we’re not supposed to be all over each other, I suddenly have this inexplicable, caveman urge to raw dog you in front of everyone.”

Your lips twitched in amusement. “You are so romantic, Roman.” Careful not to draw attention, you bumped your hip into his, and the two of you began walking to Caroline’s wedding.

Shiv met you at the entrance, pestering Roman on where Logan was (which he clearly didn’t know himself), and also making several incessant japes about Roman’s lost chance to marry his mother. A part of you wondered if she was amping it up because you were there, as if to try to goad a reaction out of you.

“Well, I’m just worried about the prenup,” Roman hotly defended after Shiv made fun of him for not liking Peter Munion.

“She has a prenup, Rome,” Shiv said while rolling her eyes. “She had her lawyer look at it because she wants to keep the London flat Dad gave her.”

“What if he poisons her? Or pushes her down the stairs to get this flat he so desires?” Roman quipped, crossing his arms.

Shiv snorted. “Oh, yeah. And what if worse—he fucks her with his dick. Fucks her so good that she dies?”

A group of giggling children passed by, and you muttered a quiet apology to the parents glaring at the three of you.

“We should get going,” you told the twins. “Must be starting any minute now.”

They halted their quarreling for the time being, and followed you into the building.

The ceremony was delayed around half an hour—you suspected it was because Logan hadn’t shown up, and Peter Munion sure wanted to brown-nose some more—but it carried on without him. You wondered if Logan wasn’t here because of what Roman had told you.

GoJo eating Waystar. That would make headlines for a good few months.

After the ceremony came a lovely little banquet, decked with long white tables lined with sweet-smelling flowers, beautiful flutes of champagne and wine passed around. Waiters flitted to and fro like busy worker bees, serving up course after course. There were seventeen dishes total, you counted. Roman said there were actually eighteen—you missed one when you briefly disappeared for the bathroom.

“You don’t have a fucking clue where Dad is, do you?” Shiv prodded at Roman’s shoulder, and he shrugged her off.

“Just relax, will you?”

Connor came up to the three of you then, a wary smile on his face. You and Shiv took turns apologizing to him, wearing guilty expressions. He’d always had soft spots for the both of you.

“No, no, it’s okay. Forget about it.”

“Mhm,” Roman said. “Forgotten.”

“So, guess who’s getting married to the greatest gal in the world?” Connor announced, a wide smile overtaking his features.

You grinned, congratulating him with a hug, Shiv and Roman slapping their older brother on the shoulder. When you pulled away, Connor pulled up a shriveled little brown bulb out of his pocket.

“Oh, ew. What is that?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“It’s a dried penis from one of the great men in history, correct?” Roman postulated, poking it before wiping his hands onto you.

Pointing at it, Connor said, “This is maca root. It’s for Dad’s smoothie.”

“Mhm?” Shiv asked, not quite getting it.

“He’s working on his baby batter!” Connor reiterated. “Maca root, almond butter! Dad’s putting together a more adhesive, potent gloop.”

“Ew,” you said, grimacing. “He’s eighty fucking years old. The baby practically pre-ordered the daddy issues themself.”

Utterly confused, Roman asked, “Are you fucking with us right now? That’s disgusting!”

“No, I’m not! Look at all the walnuts he’s been munching! He’s gonna be rocking sperms like a little catfish.”

“Oh, my fuck. Dad’s scrambling the fighters,” Roman guffawed, batting away Connor’s hand when he waved the maca root closer to his nose.

With a final laugh, Connor clapped Shiv’s shoulder, before bidding adieu, in search of his now-fiance.

“We gotta find a way to kill this baby,” Roman muttered.

“Yeah, finally you’ve got a worthy adversary,” laughed Shiv.

It was then that Tom made his way to the three of you, his arm curled over her waist. You eyed the fluid motion, wishing you could have something of an open relationship like theirs. Though, you weren’t sure comparing yourself to Tom and Shiv was the best way to go.

Tom let it slip that they were planning on having a baby, too—but by freezing an embryo.

“Congratulations,” you told the two of them, though Shiv didn’t look all that happy.

Roman chortled and made a few jokes about how Tom would have to poop out his own baby, and you nudged him harshly.

“That’ll be your niece or nephew, you know. Just don’t be that weird, creepy uncle they avoid at family gatherings.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Roman whistled, though he fell silent when Gerri strode up to the three of you.

It was just as you thought. She’d heard Logan and Matsson were meeting with financiers—which meant Logan was going through with the flipped deal. GoJo swallows Waystar, Logan leaves with his pockets full, and everybody aboard the sinking ship is left to fend for themselves.

“Why would Matsson need financing for an all-stock deal?” Shiv asked, though she was beginning to get an inkling of what was truly happening on her own.

Gerri suggested splitting up to cover more ground. Roman would get Kerry, Shiv handled Marcia, Gerri tackled Frank, and you were left to call in a few of Roman’s lawyers to see if they could rifle through anything that could block Logan from plowing into GoJo full-steam.

“I think Frank and Karl are in Europe,” Roman told Shiv, his phone pressed to his ear. “It’s got the fucking Euro ring.”

“What?” Shiv demanded. “Rome—are we being fucked right now?”

Roman hung up once Karl lied straight through his teeth that he was in America. Just before, he’d seen Gerri and Kerry speaking to each other in hushed tones, before Gerri quickly walked away. Was Gerri knifing him, too?

He turned to stare at you, speaking to his lawyers on the phone about voting power for the next CEO.

“Okay, well, I should probably tell you,” Roman said, scratching at the back of his head. “Matsson did float, just as an idea, that maybe they’d buy us.”

There was a momentary pause. Shiv’s eyes flared wider, her lips pinching tight. “Right. And what did Dad say?”

Roman shrugged. “Fuck off!” he said, in his best Logan imitation.

“Mhm. And he stuck around?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Abruptly, Shiv shoved him so hard that Roman stumbled back into a table. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me this earlier?” She stomped off then, making her way to Kendall, moping by the edges of the gardens.

You hung up the phone, walking back to Roman. “Dead ends. They’re going to have to look through fucking everything—signing heir contracts, settlement conditions, the divorce clauses. Might be something there that gives the three of you a hand on the steering wheel.”

“Great.” Roman sucked at his teeth, hesitant. “Hey, as it turns out, I don’t think I can trust Gerri.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and—I can trust you, right?” He scuffed the grass with the heel of his expensive boot, anxious.

The two of you stared at each other for a long moment. Man and woman, microphone and stand, dog and chew toy. You ran your tongue along the back of your teeth.

“I love you, Roman. You know that,” you told him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. Yeah. I trust you.”

“Hurry the fuck up!” Shiv yelled, startling the two of you away from each other. She began making her way around the building, towards the deserted back, where nobody was around to hear what the four of you were discussing. Slow on her heels was Kendall, dragging his feet along glumly.

You and Roman were only barely able to exchange comforting glances, before hastening after her.

“Okay, so—Dad is doing us dirty, right?” Shiv said, a tad too loud for your comfort, seeing as there were wedding guests only around the corner.

“Can you not make it a whole thing?” Roman protested, nose wrinkling. “We actually don’t—we don’t know anything yet. Matsson pitched to Dad the idea of them eating us, but I think he was just flying a kite.”

“Financing wouldn’t be there if it was just Matsson jerking off. Karl and Frank wouldn’t have bothered unless it was real. You know that, Roman,” you said.

The man merely raised his tense shoulders, kicking at a rock on the sandy ground. “Dad kind of shut it down,” he replied.

“He kind of shut it down?” pressed Shiv. “A moment ago, you were telling me that he told you to fuck off!”

Frowning, Roman told his sister, “Well, I didn’t keep track of the exact number of expletives he used, Siobhan. Okay? I’m not a fuckometer.”

There was a crackling silence for a few seconds. Kendall wasn’t facing the three of you, opting to stare away into the distance, hands propped on his hips.

“Our market caps have tipped,” Shiv vehemently put forth. “The local town’s been bought out by a new set of advisors. Something has flipped!”

It was clear that Roman was the only one still clinging onto his father’s leg. He watched you and Shiv with scrutinizing eyes. “Dad would never sell, would he? Hey, asshole, Dad would never sell, right?” Roman directed the question to Kendall.

Kendall’s shoulders moved just a tiny bit, barely a twitch. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

“I see him doing it if the buy-out settlement is large enough,” you said, expression grim. “A handful of billions in his pocket, and he’d walk off satisfied.”

“But Dad… he…” Roman itched at the back of his head. “What about us?”

“Okay, yeah, the question is—would we get fucking protection?” Shiv demanded, as if the three of you had answers to give her.

Kendall looked up at the bright Italian sun. He was feeling thirsty.

“Can you guys just do this without me?” he asked, voice dejected. “I can’t—I don’t really wanna get into it.”

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, Shiv hurled out an accusation, “Wait a minute, Ken. Do you—you have an angle on this? Are you speaking with Matsson?”

Kendall laughed. He paused for a second, thinking on Shiv’s words some more, before laughing again. Then, he sank to the sandy ground. There were sharp rocks poking his legs, a fine layer of dust coating his ass and the back of his thighs.

“Is he okay?” you whispered to Roman, who just shook his head and murmured something you couldn’t quite catch under his breath.

“Ken, can we just talk?” Shiv asked.

“Shiv, I’m not here,” he said. His knees pulled up to his chest, and his head rested upon them.

He wasn’t okay, that was plainly clear. Tentative, you took a step forward, exchanging uneasy glances with Shiv. The redhead crouched down and soothed a comforting hand over her older brother’s back. You kneeled in front of Kendall, uncaring of how dirty you were getting your pants. Lingering a little farther back was Roman, stressed out of his mind, studying the three of you contemplatively.

“Hey, you okay?” Her voice was far more soft this time around.

Kendall shook his head, a heavy exhale slipping past his slightly-chapped lips. The familiar sting of salt welcomed the corners of his eyes.

“Talk to us, Ken,” you said, your shoe nudging his.

His mouth trembled. “There’s something really wrong with me. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“Uh, well… it’s okay, Ken…” Unsure, Shiv looked up to you.

“I just—I’m not feeling very connected to my children or my endeavors right now. And, uh, I can’t get one thing right with another, you know?” His voice broke near the end. A warble, a shake, a lilt.

Roman stepped closer. To anyone who didn’t quite know him, he looked as if he was angry. But you knew—you knew that that was concern splayed across his features. He was worried for his big brother.

“Kendall, we can get you help,” you tried to reassuringly say.

“But I can’t,” he replied, on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what happened. I tried to do something. I tried, I really did. Really.”

For better or worse, Roman attempted to diffuse the tension by saying, “I know, man. You fucked it.”

You and Shiv glared at him, while Kendall merely laughed. It was painful and grating. His throat ached.

“I took a shot, but it’s like it didn’t matter,” he said.

“It’s just business, okay?” Roman told him, trying to downplay the situation. “We’re all fucked. Everything just sort of got… mixed up.”

When Shiv stood up, her legs aching, Kendall’s eyes slid shut. “I thought I had an out. I could see it—I could see the way markers, and I thought I could, out of all our shit, I thought I could take us all out of it. I tried, guys. I did.”

Roman hummed. Shiv stayed silent. You watched him, pensive.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I’m not a good person.”

“Well, whatever,” Roman said, miffed. “You’re… fine.”

“I’m… I’m bad.”

A few tense, sparse chuckles. Roman shot you a confused look, as if to say, is he for real?

“Lighten up, glum-glum,” Rome said.

Kendall blinked down at the sand. “I killed a kid.”

“Hm?”

“What?” you quietly asked. What was he talking about?

Shiv laughed a bit, wondering if this was all an elaborate joke. After all, it was hard to take anything Kendall did seriously after his disaster of a birthday party.

“I killed a kid,” Kendall repeated.

“Like… metaphorically?” you queried.

“No, I… I killed a kid. And, yeah, they’re… they’re coming for me. They’re gonna come for me.”

Your mouth fell open and shut, shocked and uncertain of what to do, what to say.

“Is this—?” Shiv looked around wildly. “Is this real? What the fuck?”

There was a sharp inhale. A warm breeze blew by, and Kendall found himself swallowing around what felt like dust. Glass shards. All the same.

“At your wedding,” he said.

“What?” Shiv asked, voice hardened.

“Horseshit,” said Roman, though he knew it, deep down, none of it was horseshit.

Rapidly, Kendall blinked. “The kid. That kid.”

“Uh, you mean the… the waiter kid?” Shiv clarified.

A soft, nearly horrified exhale slipped from you. “That was you?” you asked, voice much smaller than it had been only minutes ago.

“I was high,” he began to explain, miserable. “I was trying to score, and I was drunk, I was fucked up, and I drove. He saw something and he snatched at the wheel. We went into the water.” His voice trembled. “And then I left him in there and I ran.”

“Uhm, okay, we gotta… we gotta get you inside,” Shiv started, but Kendall’s shoulders began to shake.

His head lowered further. “It’s fucking lonely,” he quietly sobbed. A tear fell down his cheek, slipping into his mouth. “I’m all apart.”

You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you reached out and kept a steady grip on one of his knees. It grounded him, in a way, because his sobs seemed to dullen after a few seconds.

“I mean, if it pleases the court,” Roman began to say, which made your stomach roil in fear of what other abrasive comment he might spit out, “it sounds like you didn’t really kill him. Sounds to me like… he killed him.”

Your brows cinched. Kendall ran away from the kid and drove under the influence, which made him largely at fault. But you also knew it wasn’t… wholly on his shoulders. It was an accident, first and foremost. Besides—what choice did he have than to keep quiet, with his tail pressed beneath Logan’s thumb?

“Rome, I’m a piece of shit, man,” Kendall sniffled, shaking his head.

“The road and the water killed him,” offered Roman. “That’s what it sounds like.”

“What he’s trying to say,” you interjected, voice slow and placating. “Is that it was an accident.”

“Yeah, seriously. You crashed, and then, what? You ran?”

“No, I mean… I tried to get him. I dived a few times.”

Roman spread his arms out a bit. “See? That… that sounds like the story of a hero to me. That’s more than I would’ve fucking done. Seriously, I would’ve been out of that water like a tabby cat from a bath.”

Pained laughs from Kendall filled in the space between the four of you, which dissolved into cries. “Don’t, man. I’m… I’m a killer.”

Scoffing, Roman groaned out, “Fuck you. Come on, bullshit. At worst you’re an… a fucking irresponsibler. Okay? You’re bigging yourself up.”

“I don’t know, you guys,” Kendall hiccupped. “I’m blown into a million pieces.”

“Okay, uhm, we gotta get you out of here,” Shiv said, rubbing his shoulder.

“We could bring him back to the chapel,” Roman offered. “Stuff him into a confessional. That might fix him.”

It was then that your phone started ringing, the lawyers calling you back. You gently apologized to the siblings, before stepping away and answering. Not long after you, Shiv’s phone began to ring with Laird’s caller ID, and she pulled off, as well. Leaving just the two brothers.

Roman sank down to sit beside him. He tried, and failed, to comfort him. But he succeeded, too. Somehow.

“I’m sorry,” Kendall croaked.

Wincing, Roman said, “You know, one waiter down makes a bit more sense. Took me forever to get a fucking drink at that wedding.”

“Please, man, I can’t—”

“Yeah, no, I’m just saying. Who’s the real victim here, you know? I waited three quarters of an hour for a gin and tonic.”

Both you and Shiv hung up your calls at the same time, making your way back to the brothers.

“You first,” you told Shiv. “What’s Laird know?”

She nodded. “He was inside the deal, then got cucked out of the lead. He’s bitter and bleating. GoJo buys Waystar. They pay a premium, Dad cashes out—cash and stock, maybe a title and a few assets, but it’s Matsson’s fucking board.”

“Can we trust that? Is that even real? Laird is a fucking prick. I know this—I was stuck as a hostage with him pissing buckets next to me,” Roman spat.

“Look, Kendall, I know you’re in a tough spot right now, but we have to talk about this now. I’ll call the car. Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” Shiv said.

The eldest of the four burst into another raucous sob. Roman got up from the ground and placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders, squeezing. Shiv palmed his buzzed head. You took your previous spot, crouching down in front of him and patted his kneecaps.

No more words were exchanged about the accident. It was time for war.

“What’s your news?” Roman asked. “My lawyers?”

You offered them a small, bitter smile. “There might be a gun in this knife-fight.”

In the car, you explained to them how the lawyers had found a clause in the extensive divorce settlement between Logan and Caroline: the kids would have veto power to any changes in company control.

If all the kids objected, there was legally no way Matsson could buy Waystar.

The siblings were reunited on the same side for the first time in what felt like decades. Despite this, Roman still felt uneasy about the whole ordeal.

“These are still all just rumors,” he said from beside you. “So I’ll have to talk to Dad alone first.”

Indignant, Shiv scoffed. “You think you’re close to him? You’re just his little rat fucker.”

“I’m just saying, as a matter of fact, that Dad and I have been working closely lately and I don’t want to go in too aggressive,” he heatedly defended. “I’m not busting in there crying Team Shiv, okay? We don’t know how this is going to play out yet.”

“You think Dad is protecting you?” Shiv hissed. “No, we let Matsson take control, that is Dad slamming the door! It means he doesn’t think that we will, can, or should take over.”

“All this time he’s spent braying about family,” you whispered, staring out at the rolling Italian fields flashing past. “And he’s the one who drives the knife in.”

Roman bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I just don’t think we should be aggressive. Can we even actually stop him with this one clause?”

“Yes,” Kendall said. “A change of control needs a super majority in the holding company. He’d need us to agree to it.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Just one of you, it wouldn’t work. That’s why he wasn’t threatened when it was just Kendall. The three of you, though… that’s the golden goose.”

Roman nodded, uncertain. “Right, well. I’m not sure I want to pull a move like that. Maybe I just… I stick with what I got.” He looked at you, expecting your support on this, but you pointedly pursed your lips.

Shiv gritted her jaw. “Which is what, exactly? A hard drive full of dick pics you send Y/N? Where exactly do you think we fit on Matsson’s new org chart, Rome?”

In a calmer voice, Kendall said, “He’ll gut you like a pig, Rome.”

Roman’s brows knitted together.

“Rome, you know Dad is never going to choose you because he thinks there’s something wrong with you,” Shiv said. “I’m sorry, but maybe it’s time we said these things to each other. Instead of just airing it out to Vanity Fair.”

There was a roll of his eyes, but you could tell that her words hit close to home. A home he never felt safe in, perhaps.

“Hey, Rome,” you said, taking his hand, uncaring that Shiv and Kendall were there to see. They’ve seen far worse, after all, and you were nearly certain they already knew what was going on between the two of you. “You might not have a place beneath Matsson. You know that, right? And… and neither would I, I don’t think.”

This seemed to tip the scales over for him. The thought of not having the company to keep you close by his side anymore—to tether you to him—made him far more scared than he cared to admit.

Finally, Roman tentatively broached, “The holding company move… if we do that, that’s real?”

“He can’t sanction a deal without us. That’s legal fact,” Kendall said. “Block him and he’s fucked.”

With an air of finality, Shiv said, “Okay, we just rip the band-aid right off. Push him out. Get him on his own, say it was his urinary tract at the shareholder meeting—say he’s out of it. He’s fucking a twenty year old, and he’s planning for babies in jars. He’s gone loopy, and he’s tried to sell the shop while fucking his assistant. If we tell the board all that, he’s toast.”

“Burnt,” you agreed.

“Full coup,” Kendall said.

“Yeah. We have, say, Ken, chair? Rome or me, CEO? The other, COO, or whatever they want—studios, movies, TV. Equal.” There was a hopeful glint to her eyes. “Y/N takes CFO, maybe director of operations, maybe president of relations. Whichever floats your boat.”

You were quite happy with your quaint little title as general branch manager, but you nodded along to Shiv’s words, not wanting to argue with semantics.

“Okay, but really equal. Like, actual equal. If we do this, I don’t want you two cunts trying to big-brother me out of my fucking piece, okay? And I want the dick pic stuff with Y/N cleared. We do shit like that. We like each other, alright? Deal with it.”

Shiv eyed you warily, but found herself in no position to turn him down, especially not with him in such a precarious position. You shot Roman a flattered smile, squeezing his hand. This was the most open Roman’s been about his relationship with you… ever.

“We can fight all the details out,” Shiv reassured. “It’ll… it’ll be fun.”

The siblings laughed, genuine and chesty.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman breathed out. For a second, it seemed like his eyes seemed to glass over, but it was gone with his next blink. “I do think that, even though this literally makes me want to vomit and I wanna kill you both every day and it’s all going to end horribly… I do think that we—puke—could make a pretty good team.”

“So how do we feel about killing Dad?” Shiv asked.

Kendall smiled. “Pass me the fucking shotgun.”

By the time the four of you reached Logan, the sun had only barely set, and a heavy sort of darkness started stealing away the clouds. The rooms were full to the brim and bustling about with a frantic atmosphere. Lawyers and financiers and other powerful figures from the companies flitting to and fro.

Logan, however, was in a separate room. Empty, save for the few people at the very top.

He called for the four of you to come in, all false smiles and honeyed tones.

“Hey. Hi, everyone,” Roman greeted, high-strung. “We’re just feeling a little out of the loop, Dad.”

“Oh, of course. Things have moved very fast, yes. Sit down, all of you.”

None of you sat down, but Roman stood across the table from his dad. “So, yeah, we’re, uh… we’re hearing some rumors about GoJo?”

“We heard that we might be the target now,” Shiv said in a far colder tone in comparison to her brother. “Is that right, Dad?”

Logan nodded once. “Okay. I’ve been looking at a few options.”

“Right. We might be affected with our positions, so we just wanted to get some clarity,” Shiv said.

A harsh glare was sent in Kendall’s direction. “Absolutely, but do you mind not with him in here giving me the fucking doggy-evils? Can you take him out, Romulus? I’ll fill in your sister and give you the angles.” Logan gestured vaguely at his second-eldest son. “I don’t trust him.”

Roman swallowed uneasily, unmoving.

Logan stared at him expectantly. “Roman?”

“You can tell us together, Dad,” Kendall said.

“I thought we had this figured out,” Logan deadpanned, fixing his angry glare onto Roman instead of Kendall.

Five different emotions seemed to flash across Roman’s face at once. “Yeah, no, we just… it might be better. If all of us heard.”

A steady breath. Finally, Logan acquiesced. “Okay. The market capitalizations of our firm have been on the move. Ours is a declining business. There’s a wave of consolidations happening, and that means this is the optimal moment, in my opinion, to make a deal with a serious tech operation like GoJo. That’s what I’ve been exploring, okay?”

Shiv stiffly put forth, “Okay, so, I would like to say, on behalf of all of us, can you ease up and let us in? Stop this until we see how exactly we’re impacted?”

“No, it has to be now,” Logan said.

“An hour to negotiate positions wouldn’t hurt,” you said, far icier than you were anticipating to be.

Logan leveled his gaze with you, simultaneously curious and angry. “Aren’t you supposed to be fired? Or did Romulus have the balls to fucking sever things?”

You reared back a step, teeth gritted. Roman sucked in a cold breath.

“Why does it have to be now?” Shiv demanded.

“Because I can feel it in my bones,” said Logan. “And, at the end of the day, it’s all I fucking got.”

Shiv angrily narrowed her eyes. “Well, you know that’s bullshit.”

“Look, this is the best moment to sell. If I don’t do the best deal at any given point, what’s the point of anything? I don’t get out, I leave five billion on the table,” the father explained.

“Come on, Dad. What are you gonna do with the five bil?” Kendall prodded. “Huh? Put it on your pile with all your other fucking bil?”

Logan frowned and nodded. “Mhm. Probably.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Kendall asked.

“Make your own fucking pile,” hissed Logan. Then, after taking a pause to collect himself, Logan continued, “I know this is an adjustment, but our blood’s in the water and I need to make moves fast in order to control the situation and get myself and all of you assurances in the future.”

“Assurances?” Shiv echoed. “Once Matsson is calling the shots, we’re fucked!”

A dismissive wave of his hand. “No, nah. He rates you. And this is an opportunity for you kids to get an education in real life.”

“With you at the top, we can take over, but without you, we’re fucked,” Shiv said. The brothers stood side by side, quiet.

Abruptly, Logan stood up from his seat. “Come on, Roman. Let’s get away from these Jacobins. I’ve got you. We can discuss this.” Roman looked to you, and Logan clocked the exchange. “Y/N, my dear. We’ll work you in, of course. You are such a valuable asset to the company. The glue, as I recall all the papers we publish calling you.”

You stepped closer to Roman, putting a hand on his elbow.

This spurred him into saying, “Hey, look, Dad, I know what Matsson said, I was there. But, uhm, with Matsson calling the shots, we’re… we’re strung up in the town square.”

“No!” Logan asserted, making his way closer, standing less than an arm’s length away from Roman. “He likes you! You have my word. This is an opportunity son. A bit of fucking grit. Adversity, like me. You can trust me.”

These days, Logan Roy’s word seemed to mean very little. It was his money that held the power.

“You can’t trust him,” Shiv said, voice straining.

Roman’s hands shook. “Uhm…” His voice went all soft, almost a husky whisper. “We’re here to say, to ask, please… do not do this.”

Logan tilted his head. “And what if I decide not to listen to you?”

“We can stop you,” Shiv said. “And we will. Blow this up.”

“Kids have voting power over company control,” you told your godfather. “From the divorce.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shiv. “You need all of us. You need a super majority, and we can kill it.”

This time, Logan yelled, voice bellowing. “You’re playing toy fucking soldiers!” Roman flinched back into you, and you rubbed your thumb along the inside of his forearm. “Go on! Fuck off, all of you! I have you beat! You f—morons!”

Nose twitching with contempt, Shiv protested, “Well, no, because you need a super majority—”

Logan roared out a mocking imitation of Shiv’s voice, somehow still terrifying. He sighed then, pulling a hand over his weary features. He turned, asking Kerry something. Something you didn’t quite catch.

Then a phone was being pulled out, and you heard Caroline’s voice crackling through the line.

A heavy pit sunk down your stomach. It clicked for you before it clicked for the siblings—mostly because they were probably in such heavy denial.

Caroline had renegotiated the divorce agreement, effectively robbing the children of their say. Their voices. All three of their faces fell, crestfallen, as the weight of the realization slammed into them.

Shiv seemed the angriest of them, muttering expletives and yelling angrily at her mother through the phone. Caroline apologized, saying it was for the best, but she wouldn’t hear a single word of it. The call was hung up a second later.

“Dad,” Roman said, disrupting the eerie, tense silence. “Please?”

He was a child asking for a dog again. He was a teenager asking to come home from military school again. He was a young adult asking for his dad to stop hitting him again.

“Please?” Logan parroted, almost disbelieving.

“Please,” he repeated, voice breaking.

“The seat sniffer gets a fucking leg up,” his father scoffed. “That’s a deal. What have you got in your fucking deck?”

“What have I got?” Roman asked. He reached back so the hand you had rested on his elbow laced with his. “I don’t know. Fucking… fucking love?”

When Logan repeated that word—love—it sounded so childish on his tongue. So frivolous and fanciful, as if it couldn’t possibly exist.

“You come for me… with love? You bust in here, guns in hand, and now you find they’ve turned into fucking sausages. You talk about love?” He worked a hand over his jaw. “You should’ve trusted me.”

Tears filled Roman’s eyes. “Dad, why?”

“Why?” Logan swept his gaze over his children, his goddaughter. “Because it works. I fucking win.

A beat of unbearable silence. Your nose stung, a familiar sensation.

“Go on, go on. Fuck off. You nosy fucking pedestrians.”

A wave of nausea rolled over Roman. He called out for his father as Logan stormed off, disappearing behind the doors. Then, he rushed over to ask Gerri to help them out, as Shiv stressed on who had tipped Logan off that they were on their way to see him.

Gerri dismissed Roman, brushing him off as if he were a bread crumb on her jacket. Tom arrived then, asking if his wife was okay. Shiv seemed to piece something together that you didn’t quite understand yet.

Roman sank to the ground, and Kendall put his hands on his brother’s shoulders, just as Roman did for him hours ago. You sat down beside him, your side pressed up against his.

“I want to go home,” Roman muttered. “This was all for nothing. It meant nothing.”

“Okay, Rome,” you whispered in return. “We’ll go home.”

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