Chapter 10

Roman’s lips parted, ready to lash out, to hurl the venom burning at the back of his throat. But before he could speak, the sharp slam of footsteps echoed through the hall.

“Elena Sinclair!”

Mr. Sinclair stormed into the lounge, his face crimson, veins bulging at his temple.

His fury charged the room, shattering the heavy silence like glass.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” His voice thundered. “You almost cost us everything! You humiliated me, your mother, this family, and you had Roman Thorne himself waiting on you!”

Elena’s gaze slid lazily toward him, her smirk faint but her eyes cool, almost bored.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t defend herself. She simply stood there, arms loosely folded, radiating defiance.

Roman said nothing, watching.

His sharp eyes flicked from the raging father to the unbothered daughter, cataloging every detail, the way she tilted her chin, the way she refused to cower. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t even listening.

Mr. Sinclair paced before her, his voice growing louder with each word. “Your stubbornness has gone too far! You think this is a game? You think this marriage is something you can toy with? Do you know what I had to endure to secure this? The meetings, the agreements, the begging to make this work, and you mock it all with your recklessness!”

Elena shifted her weight, one hip cocked, her lips twitching in what could almost be amusement.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Mr. Sinclair barked. “This isn’t some trivial tantrum of yours. This is about respect. About power. About your place as a Sinclair!”

Roman’s chest rose and fell steadily, his fury simmering low as he studied her face.

She looked at her father as though he were little more than background noise. Not fear. Not shame. Just a calm, quiet defiance that screamed louder than any words.

It was infuriating. And yet, hypnotic.

“Elena.” Mr. Sinclair’s voice cracked now, desperation seeping beneath his anger. “You are going to ruin us if you keep this up. You will end this marriage before it even begins. You will shame this family.”

Elena’s smirk sharpened. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have sold me off like a business deal.”

The words were soft, but the blow landed like steel.

Mr. Sinclair’s face twisted with rage, his breath harsh.

“You ungrateful...”

And then, in a flash of fury, his hand rose.

Time stuttered.

Roman moved before he even registered it, his body cutting through the space between them with lethal precision.

His hand shot up, catching Mr. Sinclair’s wrist mid air. The sharp crack of impact echoed through the lounge.

Silence fell.

Mr. Sinclair froze, his eyes wide as he turned to Roman.

Roman’s grip was iron, his voice low, deadly calm. “No one touches what’s mine.”

The words rolled like thunder, each syllable edged in fire.

Roman wasn’t defending Elena out of kindness. It wasn’t chivalry. It was possession, pure and raw.

Elena blinked, stunned for the briefest second before her smirk returned, softer this time, curving in dangerous satisfaction.

Mr. Sinclair stammered, pulling against the grip. “M.. Mr. Thorne, I.. I was only...”

Roman’s eyes burned into his. “You were about to make the biggest mistake of your life.” His voice didn’t rise, but the weight of it crushed the room. “Don’t mistake my silence for tolerance. She is mine. And I decide what happens to her. Not you. Not anyone.”

He released Mr. Sinclair’s wrist with a shove, forcing the older man a step back.

Mr. Sinclair rubbed at his wrist, his face pale now, the bluster drained from him.

He opened his mouth, shut it again, then turned toward Elena with a glare meant to sear, but his voice faltered. “This… this attitude of yours...”

Roman cut him off, his tone razor sharp. “Enough.”

The finality in that single word left no room for argument.

Mr. Sinclair swallowed hard, his jaw tight, then turned on his heel and stormed out, the echo of his footsteps fading into the hall.

The silence left behind was suffocating.

Elena stood unmoved, her arms still crossed, her lips curved in a smug little smile. But her eyes, for the first time, flickered briefly toward Roman, not with fear, not with submission, but with curiosity.

Roman’s chest rose and fell, his gaze locked on her, his blood still hot with fury.

He wanted to roar, to demand answers, to punish her for humiliating him. But his hand still tingled from the contact, from the act of blocking another man from laying a finger on her.

Possession. Pure, undeniable, infuriating possession.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Elena finally said, her voice calm, cutting through the silence. “Watching me stand there, watching him scream.”

Roman’s jaw flexed. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking, his height towering over her defiant form. “Enjoyed?” His voice was low, dangerous. “No. But I’ll tell you this...” His eyes burned into hers, dark and lethal. “If anyone dares touch you, anyone but me, they’ll lose their hand. Remember that.”

Elena’s smirk deepened, her chin tilting higher. “Oh, so you’re the only one allowed to break me? Not even my family?”

His nostrils flared, fury and desire colliding in his chest. “You’re already broken. You just don’t know it yet.”

Meanwhile, Mr. Sinclair’s shoes struck the marble floor in sharp, furious beats as he stormed down the hall.

His face was a stormcloud, his voice carrying even as he turned into the sitting room where Mrs. Sinclair had been waiting.

“Do you see that?” he seethed, his hands trembling as he gestured wildly. “Do you see what just happened? In my own house! My own daughter, still unwed, and this Roman Thorne dares to interfere as though he owns her already?”

Mrs. Sinclair flinched at the venom in his tone, her eyes darting nervously toward the doorway. “Darling, please, keep your voice down. Roman will hear you...”

“I don’t care if he hears me!” Mr. Sinclair snapped, his fists clenching. “He hasn’t even signed the damned contract yet, and already he’s acting like a tyrant. Stopping my hand, undermining my authority in front of her, our daughter!”