Masuk"I’m going to Milan.I didn’t look up from the blueprints spread across my mahogany desk. I could feel Roman standing in the doorway of my study, his presence a heavy, familiar weight. This project was mine. The Milan Foundation was the first thing I had built with my own vision and my own name. I was heading out for a week to finalize the restoration details, and the flight was already booked."Milan," Roman repeated, his voice low. He walked into the room, the scent of his cologne cutting through the smell of old paper. "The foundation project?""Yes. It requires my presence for a week. There are things I can’t sign off on from behind a screen." I finally looked up, meeting his dark, searching gaze. The intensity in his eyes still made my heart skip a beat. He looked like he wanted to offer a jet or a team of consultants, but he held back. He was learning.I took a breath, my fingers tracing the edge of a technical drawing. This was the step forward that felt bigger than any kiss we
"I told her."I spoke the words into the quiet of my new apartment, the phone pressed to my ear as the morning light cut sharp, golden lines across the hardwood floor. I sat at the kitchen island, a cup of black coffee steaming in front of me, but I hadn't touched it. My heart was still doing that strange, heavy thud against my ribs, the one it had started the moment I walked into the Montague garden yesterday."And?" Eleanor’s voice was crisp, even through the speaker. She didn't sound surprised. She sounded expectant."She kissed me," I said, and just saying it made the ghost of her lips burn against mine again. "She kissed me and said she knew.""What does that mean, Roman? In Sera-speak?"I leaned back, looking out at the city skyline. For the first time in my life, the view didn't feel like a scoreboard. It just felt like a backdrop."I think it means yes," I told her, my voice low. "I think it means she needed to hear me say it first. No strategy. No leverage. Just the plain, ug
"You’re scrubbing that plate like you’re trying to erase the pattern, Sera."I startled, nearly dropping the heavy ceramic dish into the soapy water. I hadn't even realized I was doing it. The dinner with Roman had ended an hour ago, his departure leaving a lingering hum of electricity in the air that I couldn't quite shake. Now, it was just me and Rosa in the large, warm kitchen of the Montague estate. The smell of garlic and slow-roasted tomatoes still hung in the air, a comfort I’d leaned on since I was a child.I looked at the woman who had raised me, her hands moving with a practised, rhythmic grace as she dried a wine glass. Rosa didn't look at me; she didn't have to. She knew the cadence of my breathing better than I did. She had watched me grow from a stubborn girl into a woman who had been broken and rebuilt more times than I cared to count."You heard," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper over the sound of the running water.Rosa finally looked up, her dark eyes sh
"You didn't call."I looked up from the row of white roses I’d been inspecting, the shears heavy in my hand. Roman was standing at the edge of the terrace, the late afternoon sun catching the sharp lines of his suit. He looked out of place against the soft, sprawling green of the Montague estate, yet he was the only thing I could see. My heart gave a sharp, frantic kick against my ribs. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not today. Not without warning.I didn't move. I didn't drop the shears. I just waited. I had spent so much of my life reacting to the men in my world, moving when they told me to move and speaking when they needed a voice. I wasn't doing that anymore. If Roman Knight had something to say, he was going to have to walk the distance to say it.He did. He stepped off the stone path, his leather shoes sinking slightly into the grass. He didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of me, so close I could smell the faint, familiar scent of cedar and expensive Scotch tha
"I want to tell Sera something."I didn't wait for a greeting. Dante Montague wasn't the kind of man who cared about small talk, and I wasn't in the mood to give it. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my office, watching the city lights blink like a thousand judgmental eyes. My chest felt tight, the kind of pressure that usually preceded a hostile takeover, but this wasn't about business. This was about the only thing I had left that mattered."Is that right?" Dante’s voice was like gravel, low and dangerous. He didn't sound surprised. He sounded like a man waiting for the punchline."It’s not a proposal," I said quickly. I needed to be clear about that. "Not yet. It's something before that.""What?"I took a breath. I’d faced down boardrooms full of sharks without breaking a sweat, but my hand was actually damp against the phone."I want to tell her that I want a future with her," I said. The words felt heavy, solid. "Specifically. Permanently. I want to say it out loud to her
"Don't look at the cameras, Roman. Just look at me."I whispered the words as we stepped out of the black sedan and into the blinding flash of the gala. This was the Montague Cultural Foundation’s biggest night of the year, and it was our first official public appearance at a Montague function since everything had changed. The air was crisp, smelling of expensive perfume and the damp stone of the museum steps. I could feel the heat of Roman’s hand at the small of my back, a steady, grounding weight that kept me from floating away into the sea of silk and tuxedos.We weren't the same people who had walked into events three years ago. Back then, every step was a choreographed dance, a performance for the stockholders and the critics who wanted to see if the Knight-Montague alliance was holding. Back then, we were a power couple made of glass, shiny, sharp, and hollow. Tonight, the glass was gone. There was just us.The event was a blur of high ceilings and soft orchestral music. As the
Isabella came home at three thirty to find Roman in the sitting room with no lights on, and the notebook closed on the coffee table in front of him.She set her bag down. Looked at him. Looked at the notebook. "What is that?""Sit down," he said.She sat across from him with the careful posture of
Ada's message came through the internal system at two fourteen.*Roman Ashford in the lobby. No appointment. Says it's important.*Sera read it at her desk. She set her pen down. She looked at the message for four seconds. Then she picked her pen back up and went back to the document she had been r
Garrett arrived at nine with a folder he had not sent ahead.That was the first thing Roman noticed. Garrett sent documents in advance. Eleven years of working together, and the rule had never changed: a client should never be surprised in a meeting. The fact that he was carrying something Roman ha
Roman told himself he was going to clear the air.That was the exact phrase he used in his own head as he watched Sera excuse herself from the chief of surgery and move toward the far end of the room. Clear the air. Practical. Reasonable. They were going to be in the same professional circles and i







