Lahat ng Kabanata ng From Best Friend To Fiancé : Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

His words were a grenade. Heat slammed into me in a way I did not want. I could feel the electrical charge curve in my limbs—my muscles tightened, blood punched my ears, heat pooled where it should not. A traitorous, animal reaction tightened across my skin and pooled low in my belly.No. No. No. This is not what this is. My brain screamed. I had to remind myself what had happened. This man—this man—had taken someone’s life. He had arranged pain. He had given himself the license to end a life and call it devotion.And yet my body answered with the most humiliating trait—want. The wrongness of it was immediate and corrosive. I could almost hear the shame ooze from my pores.I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes until stars flashed. For a moment I couldn’t tell which sensation belonged to which truth. The physical coil of attraction I'd once known—warm, dangerous—or the well of dread that had nested where trust should be.For a wild, loathsome second I imagined throwing myself at h

I probably needed a good trim. My hair was almost brushing the tops of my breasts now, a length that told me just how long I’d neglected myself. In the mirror, the truth stared back at me. Red-rimmed eyes, smudgy eye bags, lips cracked and dry, cheekbones cutting sharp under sallow skin. I looked like someone who’d crawled out of a gutter. A junkie clutching her fix.The pill.It sat in my open palm, white and tiny. My other hand held a glass of water, beads of condensation slicking my fingers. The decision should have been simple. It had been simple every other time for a while now. But tonight, my hand trembled.I glanced down at my stomach, palm splaying over flat skin as though I could conjure something—life, possibility. What if? What if Roman’s baby was already there? My baby.I let out a humorless laugh at myself. Who was I kidding? Magic didn’t exist. Pills didn’t just stop working because you wanted them to. I’d been on them for years. If I wanted a chance at motherhood, I’d

Roman Flashback I had his head in my grip, gloved fingers twisted into greasy hair, pulling until his neck strained back and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling like some cornered rat desperate for escape. His breath came foul and hot against my wrist. I leaned in, voice low, steady, deliberate. “What dealings do you have with my father?”The bastard smirked even through the pressure on his scalp, spittle wetting his lips. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Since you’re so eager to do daddy’s dirty jobs, why not ask him what this one’s for?”My fist moved before thought could catch up. The crack of bone against bone echoed through the room, sharp as breaking glass, and his head snapped to the side. My pulse thundered. What in hell could my father of all people have ever wanted with him? Out of the billions of men in the world, why would my father touch filth like this?“I don’t give a damn about whatever business you had with him,” I said, shoving his head forward until his eyes snappe

RomanI probably look like a stalker the way I lie here, eyes open in the middle of the night, watching the rise and fall of her chest as if the rhythm could hold me together. Savannah. My Savannah. She’s tucked against me like she belongs in the curve of my arm, her lips curved in that soft, unconscious smile that wrecks me every damn time.She’s happy. That smile is proof enough.And God help me—I’m happy too. No, not just happy. I’m fucking euphoric.She said she loved me. She said it with trembling lips and a heartbeat that kicked like a drum. The words are still burned into me, branded in places no flame could touch.I can’t stop replaying them, over and over, like a song I can’t get out of my head. I love you.Do you know what that does to a man like me? A man who spent years biting his tongue, swallowing his want, playing the good friend, the loyal shadow, while every cell in his body screamed to touch, to claim, to take? To kiss her?Five years I kept myself caged. Five years

I hate the feeling of being stuck in this bubble of confusion and worry. I know it's too early. I know I'm probably overthinking the dull ache in my abdomen and the pain in my back and the fact that my period hasn't arrived yet and it's approximately forty five days to my thirtieth birthday. Jesus Christ, I'm getting old. Saying it makes it even scarier. I'm not naive. And neither am I a kid. I know what the symptoms of pregnancy are. I've secretly done my research. And it's possible that I'm expecting. Am I prepared? No. Am I scared? Yes. Do I want it? Fuck yes. But I also bear in mind that it might be negative and I might actually be coming down with something more life threatening than an unplanned pregnancy. Goodness gracious! My nerves are going to kill me. The clinic was everything Roman’s world wasn’t. Sterile, and quiet. Just muted walls, the faint hum of fluorescent lights, the smell of antiseptic and lemon.I signed in at the reception desk with shaking fingers and sat