The first time that Roman Sionis saw her, she was in the Black Mask Club leaned up against the bar, completely at ease.
He'd never seen her before; she was a complete stranger to him, and that was rather uncommon when it came to the people who found themselves in his establishment. He was also certain that he would have remembered her. She looked like she was velvet to the touch, all sun-kissed skin, swathes of dark hair that fell down past the small of her back, and a body-tight silk slip of a dress that hugged every dip and curve of her body.
Roman had been in the middle of discussing business with a new associate, too, which made it worse - because when he saw something that he wanted, it encompassed every bit of his attention, completely and wholly. Ilarion Astakhov might have been irritated that Roman excused himself from their chat to close the distance between himself and the woman - he was fresh out of Moscow, conducting business for his mobster of a father - but if he was, Roman wouldn't have known.
And quite frankly, he didn't particularly care.
She was faced away from him, nursing a vodka soda that she had been holding on to all evening. He rested one hand to the left of her, leaning down to speak to her on the other side.
"You know, I'm usually pretty good with faces," he said, unable to stop the little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "but I can't say that I recognize you. I certainly think I would have remembered you."
In the cage of his arms, she turned around so that they faced each other. Most people might have been nervous having Roman Sionis right in their personal space, but the expression on her face was hardly afraid. He took the opportunity to drink in every detail of her face. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and one right on top of her lips, which pouted in a cupid's bow, meticulously glossed. Her eyes were a deep whiskey color. What a delicious face, he thought. A perfect addition to my collection.
"I wouldn't expect you to, since I've only arrived in town tonight," she replied. There was a little foreign lilt to her voice, but it was almost imperceptible.
"Just tonight? And you decided to come to my little joint here? I'm flattered." The bartender had set Roman's usual drink - a double shot of exceptionally expensive Scotch, and a single ice cube - on the counter for him, so he picked it up and took a drink. Their eyes stayed locked together. "Roman Sionis."
The woman laughed, brushing loose strands of hair out of her face. "Oh, I know who you are, Mr. Sionis. Why do you think I came here tonight?"
"Now I'm doubly flattered. You ought to be careful, you wouldn't want to start giving me the wrong idea."
She sighed, almost wistfully, and took a very small sip of her alcohol. He wondered why she wasn't drinking the way most of his patrons did - and now that he thought about it, it seemed strange for her to be here alone, sitting at a bar, when she could have sat alone at a bar in a dress anywhere in the city. Certainly it couldn't have really been just for him -
(But certainly it could be, because who wouldn't want to see and meet him? He was fucking incredible.)
A light pressure against his chest broke him out of his thoughts. Her slender fingers smoothed out the lapel of his suit jacket, and when she straightened up he didn't budge an inch; they were so close that he could smell the jasmine perfume of her shampoo. She didn't seem uncomfortable at their closeness. In fact, if Roman was any good at reading people - and he was - he would think she was leaning into it.
"You haven't told me your name yet, doll." His gaze flickered down, watching the silk of her dress against her body, and then back up to her eyes.
In his peripheral, he could see the corner of her lips twitch up. She looked like she was going to say something, and right as her lips parted - sweet, so sweet, he wanted to press his fingers against that lower lip of hers and watch the goosebumps spread on her skin - someone spoke up from behind.
"Varya, are you having a good time?"
Roman turned his head, wondering who had a metric fuckton of a death wish to interrupt. It was Ilarion Astakhov, the business associate, watching the both of them with his eyes narrowed politely. Zsasz was working his way through the crowd not far behind, looking as though he might have wanted to stop Ilarion from interrupting; but just as he was catching up to the man, Roman noticed Varya's smile.
"Of course. Mr. Sionis was just introducing himself to me. You are familiar with my brother, Ilarion, correct?"
Brother. Roman straightened up, cocking an eyebrow. "Your brother." It was a statement, not a question.
"Twin brother, actually," Ilarion corrected. "Varya was technically born a minute and thirty seconds after me, though the details often escape her attention. Mr. Sionis actually jumped ship on our conversation to come and speak with you, and since we are both so similar looking -" And here, Ilarion had a wolfish grin that made Roman feel a spike of irritating uncertainty. "- I suppose we cannot blame him for the mistake, can we, Varushka?"
"Certainly I don't blame Mr. Sionis." Varya's smile was saccharine sweet, and she patted his chest where her hand had been resting from fussing with his jacket. "You cannot hold it against him, Ilya, you sore loser. After all, I am the prettier of the two of us."
"You'll have to forgive my rudeness," Roman cut in, before they could take the conversation away from him. He couldn't stand that, not having control of the room, and he felt wildly like a fool and he hated it. "I can't stand to leave a guest unattended in my establishment. Zsasz?"
Victor cleared his throat. "Yeah, boss?"
"This is our associate's sister." There was a grit to his voice. It was a lazy oversight. "She wasn't welcomed into our establishment as though she were. Tell me it won't happen again."
Zsasz nodded confirmation. Lazy. Sloppy. It wasn't like Zsasz, but the man also didn't seem so keen on the Astakhovs - there was a suspicion in his gaze as he looked at the two of them, and Roman couldn't say for sure that it wasn't jealousy at the closeness he and Varya had; Zsasz had never liked that sort of thing.
"Yeah, it - won't happen again. I... apologize, Miss-"
"Oh, just call me Varya. Miss Astakhova makes me sound like a regency wife," she tsked, waving her hand. "Now, Mr. Sionis, if you would like to resume whatever unsavory business you were conducting with my brother…"
Roman picked up his glass from the counter, finishing off the (significant) amount of alcohol still left in it before setting it back down. He smoothed back some of his hair - silently counting to three, feeling his pulse up in his throat for having the lack of oversight make him out to be some kind of fool - and then smiled, charmingly.
"Absolutely," he replied. "Please, have whatever you like, on the house. And, Mr. Astakhov, if you would."
He gestured to the table, allowing the man to go first. There was a brief moment of hesitation that took root somewhere deep inside of him - and he was glad that it did, because Varya caught him by the edge of his jacket.
"I enjoyed our chat, Roman," she murmured. Her voice was as silken as her dress. She was gazing at him from beneath her lashes, thick and sooty and dreamy. "I hope you'll find me again when you're not busy."
Such a lovely face, he thought. He spared so little mental power to thinking about the familiarity in how she used his name. I have to have it.
Roman reached up and tilted her chin a little, just so he could really see her. She was so sweet; she would be his in no time.
"I would like nothing more."
A/N: Hello friends! This is a fic that is absolutely and entirely gratifying my incessant need for Roman Sionis smut. I watched Birds of Prey one (1) time and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it; specifically, Ewan McGregor in eyeliner. I have literally never written anything for the DC fandom, so please excuse if the characters seem out of place; I'm trying my best and quite rusty! Regardless, I hope you enjoy. There will be more parts coming. xo Please let me know what you think of this entirely indulgent trashy fic! Bonus points if you can catch my pun I make!
If you want a little muse while you're reading, I suggest Rules by Doja Cat (in the privacy of your own space. ; ) )