Her brow arched in surprise. “What now? Playing chaperone?”
“Just keeping you clear-eyed so I can fuck you again when we get back.” My hand slid lower, resting possessively on her backside. “This time…”
She froze, a wave of pink flooding her cheeks. A cough escaped her lips, a poor attempt to mask her embarrassment. Yet her eyes darted over my shoulder, searching for any onlookers who might be eavesdropping.
“We’re in public, Roman,” she hissed, glancing around anxiously. “Someone might hear you.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Wouldn’t be polite not to give them a show to go with that,” I shot back teasingly.
She gasped, swatting my chest playfully. “Roman!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She was acting as if someone had actually overheard us.
Leaning in closer, she whispered fiercely, “Say something like that again and I’ll kick you where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Go ahead,” I murmured, my voice low and teasing as the noise of the crowd faded into the background. “I’ll test it on you afterward. See if it still works.” I winked at her, enjoying the playful banter.
Another gasp escaped her lips, but before she could retaliate, a voice cut through the noise.
“Roman!”
Savannah turned, her expression shifting as she recognized the voice. “Dad?”
He completely ignored her, instead clapping a hand on my shoulder with an air of authority. “My wife’s been looking for you. Come on, my friends are dying to meet you. I told them all about you.”
Why does everyone around her treat her like a decorative prop? Now he’s going to parade me around like a trophy while ignoring her? This wasn’t happening.
I maintained a polite smile, though irritation simmered beneath the surface. “I’ll have to decline, sir. My fiancée’s tired. We were just heading out.”
The couple hadn’t even danced yet, and your sister says she has an announcement to make. You-
He frowned at Savannah. “Tired already? You should be here to support her, Savannah.”
Savannah’s smile turned into a porcelain mask, the hurt she was trying to conceal threatening to spill over.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait here, Roman. You go on,” she insisted, her voice steady but her eyes betrayed a flicker of fear.
“Savannah,” I said, my fists clenching involuntarily.
“I insist. On with Dad. I won’t move an inch,” she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.
And in that moment, I felt a surge of anger directed at the Harts. A family full of assholes.
“Good!” her father boomed, oblivious to the tension. “This way, Roman. They want to hear all about your Forbes interview. And that hedge fund you’ve built at twenty-four? Phenomenal.”
With one last look at Savannah, who managed a small smile in return, I followed her father, feeling like a prized possession on display.
He led me through the crowd as if I were a trophy, his hand firmly grasping my shoulder, as if he feared losing me to the throng of people.
We stopped in front of a group of men in expensive suits, their wives standing beside them with smiles that sparkled like diamonds.
“This is Roman. My future son-in-law,” he announced with a swell of pride that had nothing to do with me as an individual. “Brilliant mind. Scored multiple interviews with Forbes-and that hedge fund he’s built at twenty-four? Phenomenal. The kind of success people talk about.”
All eyes turned to me, expectant and eager.
“Impressive,” one of the men said, extending his hand. “Which sectors are you focusing on?”
“Diversified,” I replied, shaking his hand firmly.
“And what’s Forbes covered?” another asked, leaning in with interest.
“Business growth,” I stated flatly.
There was a pause, a silence stretching uncomfortably as they waited for me to elaborate.
But I didn’t.
Her father laughed too loudly, clearly trying to fill the void. “He’s being modest. This young man here has a mind for market timing.”
“How long have you been in the game?” another man interrupted, his curiosity piqued.
“A while,” I said, offering only the ghost of a smile.
Her father clapped my back as if I’d just delivered the punchline of a great joke. “See? Understated confidence. That’s what makes him so good.”
They bombarded me with more questions-about strategy, clients, overseas expansion. I offered them just enough information to avoid appearing rude, but nothing more.
I wasn’t here to indulge their ego-stroking circle; I had no interest in their shallow approval.
Over their shoulders, I caught sight of Savannah standing alone in the crowd, sipping water, her eyes vacant and fixed on nothing in particular.
With each passing second her father kept me here, parading me around like a show pony, the urge to walk away grew sharper, more insistent.
One of the wives leaned in, her perfume hitting me like a sledgehammer.
“So, Roman… Any tips for someone looking to dabble in hedge funds? My husband’s been talking about moving some of our-“
“Don’t,” I interrupted flatly, my tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Her laughter faltered, confusion flickering across her face. She thought I was joking.
I wasn’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.