Later That Day

Roman

She was taking her time, and I knew it was intentional.

I was already dressed—black shirt, white slacks, clean and classic. I sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through my phone without seeing a single word on the screen. My mind was entirely occupied by Savannah's teasing comments from earlier that morning. She’d hinted at her outfit with that crooked smirk she wore whenever she knew she was about to unnerve me.

And I let her. I enjoyed the way she could command my attention without saying a word.

The bathroom door creaked open. I looked up, and the air left my lungs.

She wasn't just a vision; she was a force of nature. The red dress she wore was sculpted to her frame, bold and striking. Her hair was styled in a sharp, devastating bob that framed her face perfectly. The confidence she radiated was more dangerous than the outfit itself.

My phone slipped from my fingers, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. I didn't even glance down. I couldn't.

She stood in the doorway with an air of effortless elegance, looking like the ultimate distraction. The dress highlighted every bit of her grace, and her legs seemed to go on forever. She looked like the physical embodiment of a secret I wasn’t ready to share with the world.

"Well?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence.

I didn't say the first twenty things that rushed into my head. I didn't tell her how much I wanted to cancel our plans just to stay here with her. My throat felt tight.

I stood slowly, my eyes never leaving hers. "Jesus, Savannah."

"Too much?"

"Not even close," I managed to say. I walked over to her, the tension between us thick enough to touch. "You look like you're out to make a statement."

She gave me a playful spin, the fabric shimmering under the room's lights.

"Perfection," I muttered.

"Scared someone’s going to stare too long?" she grinned, noticing my intensity.

"No," I said, my voice dropping to a serious tone. "I'm concerned because if Dean sees you like this, my self-control is going to be tested beyond its limits."

Her breath hitched, her eyes searching mine. I leaned down, my lips close to her ear. "You're going to be the end of me."

She offered a dangerous, knowing smile. "Promise?"

"Promise, love."

We descended the stairs together, my hand resting firmly on the small of her back. It was a possessive gesture, and I didn't care who noticed.

Dean froze mid-conversation the moment we appeared. His gaze skimmed over her, and a flash of something complicated—jealousy, perhaps, or regret—twisted his features before he masked it. I didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on my hand against her waist.

Chloe, on the other hand, offered a smile that was a fraction too wide to be real. She was in sky-blue satin—elegant and "safe." Next to Savannah’s fire, she looked like a faded memory.

"You look... bold," Chloe said, tilting her head.

"Thanks," Savannah replied sweetly. "And you look very... traditional. Very dependable."

Dean coughed to hide a laugh. Chloe’s jaw tightened. I leaned in and whispered, "Play nice," against Savannah’s ear.

"No promises," she smirked.

Suddenly, Lizzie flew down the stairs, waving her phone. "Wait! I need a picture! Just one!"

"Why?" Chloe asked, clearly annoyed.

"Your pool picture from the other day is viral," Lizzie explained breathlessly. "Everyone is obsessed with the 'hot couple.' I have to give the fans what they want."

Chloe scoffed. "Famous? Her? Please."

Lizzie ignored her and led us toward the fireplace. We struck a few poses, the tension between us manifesting as a magnetic pull.

"Can I get a kiss?" Lizzie requested.

Savannah hesitated for a heartbeat, then turned to me. As our lips met, it wasn't just for the camera. It was intentional and lingering. When we finally broke apart, Lizzie looked like she’d struck gold.

We left in separate cars—there was no way I was sharing a confined space with Dean and Chloe’s toxicity. As I drove toward the location they had sent, I watched Savannah out of the corner of my eye. She was adjusting her dress, and the mere movement was enough to make my grip on the steering wheel tighten.

"You're awfully quiet," she noted.

"I'm just mentally preparing for whatever game your ex is playing tonight," I replied.

"You're worked up, Roman. Relax." She reached over and rubbed my arm. The simple touch sent a jolt through me that I fought to hide.

We pulled up to a sleek, black building with shimmering gold signage.

A Gentleman's Club.

I raised a brow, and Savannah’s jaw dropped.

"This is the place?" she whispered in disbelief.

"They can't be serious," I muttered, a cold anger beginning to simmer. Whatever Dean and Chloe were trying to prove, they were about to find out that I don't play by their rules.