Savannah

The hum of Roman's car filled the silence between us as the city rolled by. Familiar landmarks drifted past the window—restaurants where we had shared stolen lunch breaks, bookstores I had raided on his dime. Each sight was a reminder of a five-year friendship I had once convinced myself was enough.

My fingers itched in my lap until they found the engagement ring. That damned ring. I twisted it absentmindedly, the cool band slipping easily around my knuckle. My chest tightened. Sooner or later, I’d have to give it back. The thought felt like surrendering a piece of my soul.

"You can stop right there," I murmured, pointing toward my neighbor’s apartment windows. I slipped the ring off and held it in my palm. It looked so small, yet felt so heavy.

Roman’s hand tightened on the wheel. "Not tonight." His voice was final. He didn't even look at me. "You’re sleeping with me tonight. I’ll drive you back in the morning."

Heat rushed through me. "I... I don’t understand."

"Reese thinks we’re truly engaged," he said with a humorless smirk. "Put the ring back on. He knows me too well to believe I’d let my fiancée spend the night apart from me. If he sees me dropping you off, he’ll start sniffing for lies."

I slipped it back on with trembling fingers. Roman always noticed everything—even when his eyes never left the road.

As we veered into his affluent neighborhood, the air felt heavier, quieter.

"He’s already bragged to my father that he’s met my bride," Roman’s tone hardened. "I wouldn't put it past my father to have eyes on you."

A chill swept over me. "Roman... should I be scared? Is your father... in the mafia or something?"

He chuckled, deep and dismissive. "He isn't. Though it might be an improvement if he were."

The tires crunched over the cobblestones of his courtyard. Behind us, Reese’s headlights flared. He pulled in with a reckless ease. Roman killed the engine and opened my door, offering his hand in a gesture that felt more like a possessive command than a courtesy.

"Surprised you still live here," Reese drawled, tossing his keys in the air. "Thought you’d be holed up in a penthouse, working yourself to death."

"I live where I want. Now get out," Roman snapped.

I nudged his side. "Roman, be nice. He’s your brother."

Roman’s only response was to slide his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. It wasn't just a hug; it was a claim.

Reese raised his brows. "Besides, your fiancée looks like she’s about to beg for me."

Before Roman could lunge, I pressed a hand to his chest. "Roman, please. It’s late and dangerous. Let him stay. For my sake?"

Roman’s jaw clenched. After a long, frustrated exhale, he yielded. "Fine. One wrong move, and he’s in an Uber. I don't care if it's three a.m."

Inside, Roman dropped a bag at a guest room door. "Be gone by morning," he told Reese.

"Sure thing, bro. Father will be pleased," Reese winked at me before slamming his door.

"That little shit," Roman muttered as we entered his bedroom. He tossed his tie onto a chair. I stood awkwardly by the vanity. I had been here a hundred times as his best friend, but tonight, as his "fiancée," the room felt different.

"Where will I sleep?" I asked, my voice wavering as I looked at the massive bed.

Roman reappeared, his shirt unbuttoned halfway. My breath caught at the sight of his powerful, unmarred chest. "With me. Reese can't find you in another room."

"Okay," I whispered. I watched as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside with a casual grace.

"The bed was cleaned this morning," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped out of his trousers. I turned away, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I could still feel the heat of his gaze.

He moved toward the bathroom, pausing at the doorway. He was down to nothing now, completely bare and unapologetic. He looked back at me, a challenge in his eyes and a lethal tilt to his smile. I stood there, a puddle of nerves on the floor, helpless against the gravity of the man who had just claimed every inch of my night.