“Are you serious?” Chloe blinked, taken aback.
“I don’t need defending,” I muttered, my fork stabbing another piece of asparagus with unnecessary force.
“Of course not,” Roman said gently, his tone softening. “But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me. It offends my sense of taste to watch someone insult you.”
Alyssa chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “Alright now, I see why she fell for you.”
My heart raced at her words, an undeniable warmth flooding through me. “How couldn’t I?” I replied, a grin spreading across my face.
Mom cleared her throat loudly, rising to her feet with an air of authority. “Does anybody want dessert?” she announced, her voice slicing through the lingering tension.
“I think I’ll pass,” Dean muttered, his disinterest evident.
“I’m on a no-sugar diet, sorry,” Chloe declared, her tone final.
“Maybe next time,” Roman politely declined, his smile unwavering.
Aunt Thelma, ever the life of the party, raised her glass high. “To the Harts, may we never be normal!”
Everyone paused, the room filled with a moment of uncertainty.
I clinked my glass against Roman’s, a spark of defiance in my voice. “To dysfunction,” I proclaimed, my heart lightening.
“To chaos,” he grinned, his expression dangerously playful.
Little Emily, rubbing her sleepy eyes, piped up, “Aunt Savannah, is this about the butt lube again?”
Mom nearly choked on her wine, the sound of her cough echoing in the room.
Roman coughed into his napkin, clearly caught off guard.
“Emily!” Alyssa shrieked, her face a mask of shock. “Where did you hear that?”
Emily glanced around innocently, her eyes wide. “You were talking about it earlier, mommy.”
Dean burst into laughter, Chloe smacked his arm playfully, and I exchanged a high-five with Emily across the table, our shared amusement a welcome distraction.
Mom rubbed her temples, a weary sigh escaping her lips. “Why do I even try?”
“Because it’s tradition,” I replied with a smirk. “We gather once a year, eat things no one actually likes, and emotionally regress to high school while joking about our trauma.”
Roman leaned closer, a conspiratorial whisper escaping his lips. “Is this every holiday?”
“This is mild,” I assured him, my voice low.
Dad threw down his napkin with a flourish. “I’m calling it a night.”
I exhaled, the weight of the evening settling on my shoulders.
He pointed at Roman. “You still owe me the details of that hedge fund you started at twenty-four.”
Roman tipped his glass in Dad’s direction, a hint of respect in his demeanor. “Yes, sir.”
As the table began to disperse, I rolled my eyes, the air becoming lighter. The clatter of dishes filled the kitchen as I lingered behind to help with the cleanup.
Dean hung around the pantry door, his gaze fixed on me, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.
I attempted to pass him, but he caught my wrist gently, his expression serious. “You’re really with him?”
I shot back, “You’re really marrying her?”
“I know what you’re doing. You don’t have to prove anything to me, Sav,” he replied, his tone softening.
“Oh, I’m not proving anything,” I said defiantly, yanking my hand back. “I’m making you wish you’d begged.”
Just as Dean opened his mouth to respond, Roman appeared behind me, placing a steady hand on the small of my back. Our eyes locked, his gaze piercing into Dean’s.
He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close, his protective stance radiating confidence. “You good, man?” Roman asked, his voice low and steady. “Need some help finding your fiancée?”
Dean stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “She’s all yours, buddy. Just came to say hi to an old acquaintance.”
A wave of irritation washed over me at his words. Old acquaintance? Is that truly what we had become?
Roman pressed a soft kiss to my temple, igniting a warmth that spread through my body.
“You done here? Let’s go to bed,” he suggested, his voice a soothing balm.
We exchanged quick goodnights and sweet dreams with those around us before retreating for the night. Roman’s large hand enveloped mine as we walked to our bedroom, a gesture that made my heart flutter.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind us, sealing away the chaos of the evening and granting us the privacy we craved.
I leaned against the door, arms folded across my chest, watching Roman as he toed off his designer loafers with an air of ownership- which, technically, he didn’t have yet.
“That was the most excruciating meal of my life,” I muttered, pushing off the door and shaking my head in disbelief. “Between Chloe’s fake laughter, Dad’s Roman-worship, and Alyssa’s nervous wine refills, I’m honestly considering poisoning dessert tomorrow.”
Roman flashed a cheeky smirk, pulling his shirt off with a casual grace that only seemed to amplify his infuriatingly perfect physique. “Come on now, Sav. Your dad only mentioned my hedge fund once. That’s practically restraint. I was half-expecting him to pop the question himself!”
With an exaggerated sigh, I flopped onto the bed, burying my face into the pillows, my voice muffled by the soft fabric. “He might as well have proposed. Honestly, he was practically swooning while you explained market volatility earlier. I thought he might faint!”
“I can’t help it if I’m irresistibly charming.” Roman began peeling off his slacks with a slow, deliberate confidence, the kind that suggested he was fully aware of the effect he had on me. He tossed the pants aside, leaving him clad only in snug black boxer briefs that did little to conceal the situation brewing below the waistband.
As his hands hovered over the waistband of his briefs, I felt a shiver of panic. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, my tone firm.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.