Savannah

I jerked away so fast it felt like Roman’s words had physically scorched me. My hands tangled in my hair, tugging at the strands as if the sharp pain could ground me back to reality.

"That's not true!" My voice came out too shrill, too brittle. I tried again, softening it, repeating the practiced defense I’d used for Chloe my whole life. "Chloe’s a yoga instructor. A ballet teacher. She flies to LA for high-profile clients. My parents are proud of her because she chose a difficult path and succeeded. She’s... she’s an upright person. A role model."

The words tumbled out like heavy bricks, and I cringed at the sound of them. It sounded like a memorized script.

Roman didn’t flinch. He just watched me with that steady, heavy gaze that stripped away my defenses, seeing right through the unraveling mess of my soul.

"Savannah," he said, his voice low and as final as a court verdict. "You know I’m telling the truth."

My stomach turned. "Don't do that. Don't look at me like that."

"I didn't know her as Chloe back then." His jaw tightened, the words sounding bitter on his tongue. "She went by another name. Blondie."

The name slammed into me like a high-speed collision. My lungs seized. Blondie. The name Roman had used to silence her throughout the week. The whispers I had desperately tried not to piece together finally formed a picture I couldn't ignore.

The silence between us grew until it felt loud enough to scream.

My face twisted. I didn't know which mask to wear—shock, disgust, or pure grief. They clashed within me, my breath coming in shallow gasps as if the air itself was refusing to enter my lungs.

"You're telling me..." my voice splinters violently. "...that my sister—my own sister—sold her time to you?"

"What? No. She wasn't mine, Savannah," Roman said quickly, his tone defensive. "It was business. Formal. Transactional. It was nothing compared to—"

"Stop." The word lashed out like a whip. My eyes blazed, hot with tears that refused to fall. "Don't you dare compare me to that. Don't you dare put me in the same breath as whatever you did with her."

"Sav—"

"No!" I sliced the air between us with my palm, trembling but standing my ground. "You hired women like they were accessories, and my sister was one of them. And now you expect me to just stand here and... what? Swallow it? Pretend it doesn't shatter me to know you had that level of intimacy with her?"

His voice cracked sharp in response. "I never slept with her. Whatever happened, it was a long time ago."

The words hit me sideways. I blinked, stunned.

"I only hired her for one event," he continued, his tone clipped with shame. "Months later, just before you told me about her wedding, I ran into her again. She had nowhere to stay, so I let her crash in my suite. Nothing happened. Not then, not after. I hadn't seen her again until I arrived here. What happened before was a mistake, Sav. A mistake I would erase if I could."

My laugh was jagged and bitter. "Oh, should I clap? Throw you a parade because she only got on her knees for you that first time?"

My words cut like knives. I wanted them to wound him. I wanted to leave a mark as deep as the one his confession had carved into me.

Roman paused, his lips parting as if I’d struck him. But instead of anger, something raw and fragile leaked into his voice. "Savannah... it meant nothing. She meant nothing. You’re the only one who—"

"Don't." My voice broke, splintering with the tears I could no longer hold back. They spilled over, hot and furious. "Don't you dare say I’m the only one. I can't even breathe right now, Roman. I can't..."

I curled forward, clutching my stomach as if I could hold my soul together by force. The night air was merciless, leaving me feeling like the entire universe had turned against me.

Roman stepped forward, instinct pulling him closer, but I staggered back, my hand raised like a wall. "Don't touch me," I whispered.

His eyes widened with a flash of confusion and pain. "What?"

"Please, Roman," I pleaded, my voice a warning. "Just... don't. Not right now."

Before the silence could consume us again, a mocking whistle sliced through the air.

"Oh, damn. A lovers' quarrel?" Reese leaned against the car with an obnoxious smirk. "What did you do this time, Rome?"

Humiliation crashed over my heartbreak. I folded my arms, turning away so he couldn't see my face.

"Shut up and drive," Roman snapped, venom in every word.

Reese chuckled, unfazed. "Whatever you say, big brother."

I fished out my keys and thrust them into Reese’s palm with trembling fingers. But before I could take a single step toward the passenger side, strong arms wrapped around my waist.

"Roman!" I shrieked as my feet left the ground. He hauled me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. "Put me down immediately!"

"No." His voice was maddeningly casual. He secured his grip on my thighs, his stride steady as he moved toward his car.

"Put me down! Now!" I pounded my fists against his back, my legs kicking wildly. I landed a hard kick against his chest, but he only tightened his grip. He absorbed the blows as if I were a tantruming child.

"Roman!" I screamed. "Let me down before I do some permanent damage!"

His only answer was the flat, sharp smack of his palm against my backside. The sound cracked through the air. Hot, searing shame flooded my body so fast I almost choked.

I froze, stiff as stone. Fresh tears burned my eyes. Anger, humiliation, and something dark and electric coiled in my stomach—a storm I didn't dare name.

His voice came low, a dark rumble in my ear. "Kick me again, Savannah, and I'll do it harder."

The warning, the dominance, the absolute steel in his tone—it left me breathless and trembling. I was torn between the urge to claw him apart and the terrifying desire to melt into him. I wanted to make him suffer for what he told me, yet I felt anchored by his strength.

Worst of all... I couldn't tell which urge would win.