Roman Series Novels & Stories

21 Cara and Lucas had barely stepped out of the luxury sedan when a figure stepped into their path near the grand stone pillars of the main entrance. It was Roman—Lucas’s cousin and his fiercest, most ruthless competitor within the Davis empire. For as long as Cara could remember, Roman had been a constant thorn in Lucas’s side, forever plotting to strip him of his standing. He leaned casually against the granite pillar, looking like a gentle scholar with his gold-rimmed glasses perched delicately on his nose, his dark eyes locked onto them.

“Then tell me who you really are.” Roman’s gaze sharpened slightly, though his smile didn’t waver. “I’m exactly who I said I am. Roman. A wolf who goes where he pleases. I’ve seen the world, and yes, I’ve been on the fringes of rogue packs. But I’m no traitor.” “You’re a rogue, then,” Ardan pressed. Roman shook his head. “I said I’m a “traveler,” not a rogue. There’s a difference, Alpha. I don’t pledge myself to anyone, but I’m not your enemy.”

That was going to set the Conrads on her ass. The door opened, and Roland walked in with a slight frown on his face as he noticed the strange foreboding man in the office. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, looking at the way his fiancée looked startled at his presence. “Roland Conrad, a pleasure meeting you,” Roman said, standing to his feet. Roland frowned, the man knew him, given he was a public figure, but he couldn’t shake off the strange feeling at the back of his mind.

Roman entered his office, shut the door behind him with a dull click, and shrugged off the robe halfway, letting it hang loose. He dropped into the leather chair and opened the laptop. The call connected. Alessio’s face filled the screen, grim as ever. Behind him, people moved in and out of frame—one of Roman’s safe houses, judging by the narrow halls and iron-barred windows. Alessio blinked, then smirked. “You’re such a bastard. Put on a damn shirt.”

Only now did I realize the torrent of affection in their gazes. The commotion continued. Suddenly, a staff member shouted, “A driver went off the track and fell into the sea! They’ve not been rescued yet.” Some dissatisfied fans near me sneered, “Could it be Lewis? He hasn’t shown up yet.” Hearing this, Alanna froze mid-pose. … Rally racing was, after all, a dangerous sport, where crashes and fatalities were never unexpected.

God… just his name made my pussy throb. It was the worst kind of betrayal. A bomb waiting to explode right in the middle of our friendship, ready to blow everything apart. But my cunt didn’t give a single fuck about loyalty. It only cared about one thing — getting absolutely ruined by the man who was twice my age. Roman was commanding in every way. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that salt-and-pepper hair that made him look like pure authority. His voice alone could make me drip. The way he carried himself, the way his eyes lingered just a second too long sometimes… it all made me want to drop to my knees and beg him to use me like a proper trained little slut.

Willow began, looking up. The words died in her throat. Stormy gray eyes looked down at her. Roman had shaved his stubble, revealing the sharp, lethal lines of his jaw. His dark hair was swept back, and the brow piercing he usually wore was missing. Despite the shadows of exhaustion under his eyes, he was beautiful. "Rosebud?" Roman’s voice was deep, laced with the heavy accent of the old territories. His eyes traveled down her body, and Willow felt his jaw tighten. "What are you wearing?"

I didn't listen to Detective Miller. I didn't care about the party or the music. I ran back into the house, my gold heels clicking like hammers on the floor. I didn't go to the ballroom. I headed for the stairs that led to Marcus’s private study. I didn't stay in the hallway. I pushed the heavy oak door open just enough to see inside Marcus’s study. The room smelled like expensive cigars and old books. Roman was standing in the center of the rug. He looked like a mess. His suit was torn, his hair was wild, and his hand was shaking as he held a black gun pointed right at Marcus’s head.

Their hollow eyes made my skin crawl. "Exchange your vows." The ghost bride slowly lowered her head toward me. In that instant, a small piece of skull slipped loose from the side of her forehead and fell. Right then, I heard the system notification: [Ding! Congratulations on successfully selecting your target: Ximena Ferguson.] [Target has gifted you a blood-red formal suit. It has been added to your inventory. Bonus reward: one universal glue.] [Please remove the nail from Ximena's head and use the universal glue to repair her skull to increase intimacy.]

January was so fast it was like it never even happened. Now it was February 14, the day of the lovers. After spending the entire day at work, William and Summer came back home. William had planned a valentine day surprise for his lover, their bedroom was covered with roses and candle lights lit up the room. Summer had just come back from work and she went straight to her room. On opening the door and seeing what William had done, she put her hand over her mouth and moved inside closely. William came out of the corner and hugged her from behind.