Roman

Savannah was mid-conversation with an older woman when I re-entered. One glance told me something was wrong. Her spine was too straight. Shoulders locked. Nails digging into her palm like she needed the pressure to stay grounded or endure whatever the woman was saying.

Without wasting a second, I marched forward. I slid an arm around her waist and pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder from behind, ignoring every rule of etiquette. She didn't turn, just melted into me, like my presence was the only thing keeping her from snapping. Her fingers gripped mine tight as she kept listening.

"Oh my goodness, you two make such a beautiful couple!" the woman gushed, instantly losing her train of thought.

"Thank you," Savannah said politely, her hold on me tightening another notch, as if to anchor herself.

"As I was saying, dear... It's such a shame things didn't work out between you and—"

Savannah cut her off. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Malcolm. Always lovely to see you. Please excuse us." Her smile stayed perfect as she dragged me away, leaving the woman blinking after us.

"Sorry about that," she murmured over the throb of music.

"Let me guess... chatty old lady?"

"You could say that." Her laugh was brittle.

Lie.

"An obsessive ex?" I asked.

She stiffened. "Yeah... something like that. College days. She still thinks we belong together."

Another lie. And this one tasted more venomous.

"Relax. You're wound tight."

"I'm fine. I just need a drink." She reached for a tray passing by.

I caught her wrist. "No, you don't."

Her brow arched. "What now? Playing chaperone?"

"Just keeping you clear-eyed so I can have you all to myself when we get back." My hand slid lower, resting firmly on the small of her back. "This time, without any interruptions."

She froze. Pink flooded her cheeks. She let out a soft cough to hide the flush, but her eyes didn't stay on me—they flicked past my shoulder for half a second, checking if someone else was watching.

"We're in public, Roman," she hissed. "Someone might hear you."

"Yeah. You're right. Maybe I should give them a real show to talk about."

She gasped, swatting my chest. "Roman!"

I laughed. She leaned in to whisper, "Say something like that again and I'll make sure you regret it."

"Go ahead," I murmured, the crowd noise fading for me. "I'll see if you can actually follow through later tonight, Sav." I winked at her.

Another gasp came from her, but before she could bite back, a voice cut through. "Roman!"

Savannah turned. "Dad?"

He completely ignored her, clapping a hand on my shoulder instead. "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? Parade me around like a trophy while ignoring her? Not happening.

I kept my smile polite. "I'll have to decline, sir. My fiancée's tired. We were just heading out."

He frowned at Savannah. "Tired already? The couple haven't even danced yet. And your sister says she has an announcement to make. You should be here to support her, Savannah."

Savannah's smile was all porcelain now, the hurt buried under it threatening to spill out. "No, it's fine. Go ahead, Roman. I'll wait here."

My fists clenched. "Savannah—"

"I insist. Go with Dad." Her voice didn't shake, but her eyes didn't meet mine. And in that split second, I saw it. A flicker of fear.

Fucking Harts. A family full of assholes.

"Good!" her father boomed. "This way, Roman. They want to hear all about your Forbes interview."

He led me through the crowd like he was hauling a trophy. We stopped in front of a cluster of men in expensive suits. "This is Roman. My son-in-law," he announced with a swell of pride. "Brilliant mind. He's built a hedge fund at twenty-four. Phenomenal."

I gave them nothing but one-line answers. I wasn't here to feed their ego-stroking circle jerk. Over their shoulders, I could still see Savannah standing alone in the crowd, sipping water, eyes fixed on nothing.

"I should check on my fiancée," I cut in.

"Stay, stay," her father urged.

"I'm sure they've heard enough," I said, my voice cold enough to warn. "My fiancée's been standing alone for too long. Excuse me."

I threaded through the crowd. Savannah's eyes lifted the moment I reached her. "You looked like you wanted to bite someone's head off," she said under her breath.

"I almost did." I reached for her hand. "Let's get out of here."

We'd barely taken two steps when the mic screeched. Chloe stood there in her snow-white gown, a glass of wine in hand and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass.

"Before anyone leaves," she cooed, "we have a little announcement to make."

Savannah's grip on my hand went rigid.