I longed to reach out to Alyssa, to wrap her in my arms and offer her the comfort she desperately needed. But every time I attempted to rise, my gaze would lock with Roman’s, and I found myself sinking back into the chair.
Since our arrival, he hadn’t uttered a word to me, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes fixed on the window as if I had betrayed him in the most profound way. And perhaps I had.
Yet, what infuriated me the most was his right to be angry. He had no claim to that emotion-not entirely.
We were nothing more than best friends, at least in the most straightforward sense.
At least not yet.
Things had escalated quickly, and my mind was drowning in a sea of confusion and desire.
But the way he had looked at me when Dean had touched my arm-possessive, wounded, furious-had ignited something deep within me, a fire that refused to be extinguished.
Something had shifted.
And I had that scandalous bikini to thank for it.
From across the room, I could feel the weight of Roman’s gaze upon me.
I dared to look up.
As if we shared some unspoken connection, he took a step forward just as I did.
But before he could close the distance, Chloe burst into the room, her entrance dramatic and calculated.
Her hair was perfectly tousled, as if she had styled it for a tragedy, her eyes shimmering as if someone had sprayed them with artificial tears. She angled her phone like a seasoned actress caught in a moment of despair, a portable ring light already attached, ready to capture every angle.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with drama as she tilted her face toward the light. “You guys, my little niece nearly drowned-” Her voice cracked in all the wrong places, a performance that felt painfully out of place. “Please send prayers to Emily-my poor baby girl.”
Roman’s entire body tensed at her words. He turned slowly, the sharpness in his movements revealing just how close he was to losing his composure. I could see his jaw working, as if he were calculating how many seconds it would take to hurl her phone into the nearest wall.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I shot back, my voice sharp and incredulous.
“Oh, sweetie, it’s called raising awareness. God forbid I use my platform for something worthwhile. If Bridal Luxe catches wind of this, they’ll definitely cover my wedding,” Chloe retorted, her eyes sparkling with a twisted sense of ambition.
Roman finally lifted his gaze, his jaw taut and muscles flexing with barely contained anger. “Turn that crap off. Right now.”
Chloe, feigning a dramatic sob, tilted her phone toward her face, which was now painted with faux tears. “This is a family tragedy. And I-“
Before she could finish her sentence, the phone was yanked from her grasp, mid-word.
Alyssa stood there, her eyes reddened, hair cascading messily around her face like a dark cloud. “You want tragedy?” she hissed, her voice low and menacing. “You want attention, Chloe?”
“Alyssa-“
The sharp crack of Alyssa’s slap echoed through the room, silencing everything.
Chloe’s head snapped to the side, shock written all over her face. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating, reverberating in our ears.
Alyssa hurled the phone against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces, mirroring the fragility of her restraint.
“Get. Out.”
“You’re overreacting-“
“OUT!”
Roman stood up sharply, his posture radiating authority. Lizzie flinched, and even Dean shifted uncomfortably as Chloe stormed out, one hand cradling her cheek, eyes shimmering-not with tears of sorrow, but with a blazing fury.
Dean bent down to gather the shards of Chloe’s broken phone. “That was too much, Alyssa. She cares about Emily, in her own way.”
“Posting trauma online isn’t love,” Alyssa shot back, her tone fierce. “It’s just PR.” She brushed a tear away, her gaze still locked in a heated stare-off with him.
The rest of us stood awkwardly, scattered around the room like misplaced puzzle pieces, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.
I crossed my arms tightly, feeling the cold hospital air against my damp skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the argument. Roman was now pacing, his jaw grinding, muttering under his breath in agitation.
**09:30 Tue, Nov 25**
“Are you okay?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
He halted and turned to face me, his expression a mixture of anguish and frustration. “She could’ve died, Savannah.”
“I know,” I replied softly, trying to convey my understanding.
“No, you don’t understand. No one was watching her. No one saw her go inside, and that’s the terrifying part. She’s just a kid.”
His voice trembled slightly, and he turned away, running a hand through his damp hair in a gesture of helplessness.
Dean stepped forward, attempting to diffuse the tension. “She’s fine now. That’s what matters most.”
Roman’s head whipped around to glare at him, his eyes blazing with intensity. “You think this is fine? What if it was your kid?”
Dean narrowed his eyes, his irritation palpable. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Oh, I’ll talk however the hell I want. You were watching Savannah the entire time. That’s where your focus was.”
My heart plummeted.
“What the hell, man? I wasn’t even there!”
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.