Then, with a roar, the engine sprang to life.
Roman’s foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal, and we shot out of the driveway, the tires screeching against the asphalt as if the night itself demanded to bear witness to his fury. It felt as though he needed to unleash his anger, to make it known to the world.
The silence in the car was deafening, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. Not a single word had passed between us since Roman had yanked me away from Dean’s unwelcome advances, his movements so precise and lethal they hinted at a darker side of him, one that was barely contained.
Streetlights blurred past us in a dizzying array of flashes, illuminating the tension etched across Roman’s face. His chest heaved as if he had just emerged from a battlefield-perhaps he had.
“Roman-” I began, my voice barely rising above the din of the rain.
“Don’t.” His tone was low, controlled, yet beneath it simmered a raw, dangerous edge that sent a thrill of trepidation through me.
I cast my gaze downward, my bare thighs trembling slightly, the skin flushed with a mix of fear and an inexplicable yearning. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles flexing as though he were wrestling with something deep within.
His hands were a warning, a silent plea for restraint.
Knuckles white. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked ahead, yet seeing nothing.
I found myself mute, unable to articulate the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I was still reeling, still aflame-not merely from embarrassment but from a deeper, more unsettling desire.
“You should’ve told me he did shit like that,” Roman finally broke the silence, his voice low but fierce.
I hesitated, my voice trembling as I replied, “I was taken by surprise, Roman.”
“Taken by surprise,” he echoed incredulously, as if the very notion was absurd.
I felt the weight of his scrutiny, the air thickening with unspoken tension. “You were half-naked,” he snapped, not meeting my gaze. “Vulnerable. And that bastard thought he could just-“
His words hung in the air, a threat barely contained. “I should kill him.”
My heart raced as I searched his expression, trying to discern whether he was joking or serious.
His demeanor was anything but humorous. Jaw clenched, eyes blazing, veins popping with barely restrained fury.
In that moment, Roman transformed before my eyes. He was no longer the charming golden boy with the perfect smile; he was a man on the brink of violence, a predator ready to strike.
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t think-“
Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes.
The tires screeched violently against the asphalt as he swerved the car onto the side of the road, pulling into a dark shoulder illuminated only by the dull amber glow of a flickering streetlamp and the faint shimmer of distant city lights.
Roman threw the car into park, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he were a man standing on the precipice of a cliff.
The silence was louder than any siren, filled only by the sound of our heavy breathing.
“Why did you stop?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He turned to me, his eyes dark and intense. “He wanted to fuck you. And you think I could just drive away like that didn’t happen?”
“He was drunk and disgusting. I didn’t even know him!” I shot back, my voice rising in indignation.
“You think that makes it better?” he barked, incredulous. “You think that’s an excuse?”
I held my ground, meeting his fierce gaze. “Do you think I wanted that? I slapped him. I told him no. What’s the fucking problem?”
Roman’s chest heaved with frustration. “You shouldn’t have had to. That’s the fucking problem.”
We sat there, tension crackling between us, hearts racing, breaths mingling in the thick air. The rain continued to batter against the windows, each drop a reminder of the storm brewing within us.
Then, in a moment of reckless impulse, I blurted out the most foolish thing I could think of.
“Stop acting like you’re my boyfriend.”
He clenched his fists, fury flashing in his eyes. “I’m your fucking fiancé.”
“Fake,” I corrected him sharply. “Fake fiancé, Roman. Don’t get it twisted.”
His rage flared, hot and consuming, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel harder.
Not a word passed between us as we stared each other down, both waiting for the other to break the silence.
I rubbed my sweaty palms down my bare thighs, feeling the weight of his gaze follow my every movement.
I licked my lips, attempting to steady my racing heart. “Look, Roman-“
“This doesn’t feel fake anymore.” His voice broke, vulnerability seeping through the cracks of his anger.
I looked away, biting my lip in frustration. “Roman, don’t.”
He remained silent.
Instead, with a sudden, fierce determination, he unbuckled his seatbelt and lunged toward me.
His mouth crashed onto mine, hot and furious, wild with a hunger that sent my senses reeling. His hands tangled in my hair, his tongue demanding entrance, and I found myself yielding to him, giving everything I had. I clawed at his shirt, moaning into the kiss as if my very survival depended on it.
No, no, no. Savannah, this is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this.
I pulled back abruptly, turning away, trying to regain my composure.
But he wasn’t finished. He pulled me back in, closing the distance between us.
“I can’t,” I gasped, shaking my head. “We shouldn’t…”
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.