Chapter 111 Am I Interrupting Something? The smell of carne asada and roasted peppers clung to the brown paper bag in my hand, the grease staining through no matter how tightly I held it. Mexican food—my favorite cuisine. Comfort. Warmth. Something to disguise the heaviness in my chest after leaving the gynaecologist’s office. Her words still beat against my skull like a gavel: hard to conceive… years on the pill… might not be easy. My fingers tightened on the bag as if squeezing it could silence the ache inside me. I still walked down the marble-lined hall to his office, balancing tacos and tamales like a peace offering. Maybe if I brought him something warm, I’d feel warm, too. I paused, smoothed my blouse and my hair. Then I tried to school my face into something that wasn’t gloomy, then pushed the door open. Roman’s office was all sharp edges and glass, sunlight spilling over polished wood that have recently become familiar to my back. And there he was, commanding the center of the room behind his desk, headset on, voice deep and low. The sound stopped me in my tracks. He was speaking Arabic.Not stilted, not broken. Fluent. Smooth. Each syllable rolled off his tongue like he was born with it. My pulse jumped. I froze just inside the door, eyes wide, body mesmerized. He gestured with his hand, sharp and precise, to the row of stern men on his screen. Investors. Big ones. Possibly dangerous ones. Roman’s gaze flicked to me just once, hot and electric, before returning to the meeting. A small raise of his hand told me to wait. So I nodded, wordless, and sank into the leather chair by the wall. The warm takeout sat heavy on my lap, the smell curling in the air. My foot began tapping nervously against the carpet. The doctor’s voice wouldn’t leave me alone: If you want children, Savannah, you’ll need to stop. Soon. A knife buried itself in my chest. Roman didn’t want kids. I respect that. But I'm turning thirty, and asides Roman, I have nobody. I basically do not have a family anymore. I have no one. Except him. Subtract Roman from the messy puzzle, that is my life, and it'll just be me, my apartment and my desk. Maybe that's why I suddenly find it urgent and pressing. Maybe it's because I saw Emily again after so long. Maybe it's because Roman's presence awakened that urge again. The bottom line is, I'm tired of being alone. I want something that I can call my own. So I sat silently, chewing the inside of my cheek, watching him work. Waiting for him. And God, how he looked. The sharp cut of his jaw, the confidence rolling off him, the power in every word. He was terrifying, magnetic, breathtaking. My Roman. I wanted to memorize him in this moment—his voice, his posture, the flex of his hand on the desk. And all the while, I tried to string together sentences in my head. Scripts to ask about babies. Roman, what if… suppose someday… would you ever… Each one shattered before it even fully formed. Laughter rippled from the screen. Roman’s mouth curved. Finally, the meeting ended. He tugged off the headset and turned, every ounce of his focus suddenly on me. The heat in his eyes almost made me forget how to breathe. I gripped the bag in my hand, recognizing that look in his eyes. He crossed the room in three strides and hauled me up from the chair, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that melted me. The bag of food tumbled to the sofa with a dull thud, forgotten, as my arms wound around his neck. His kiss was deep, desperate, like he’d been holding himself back too long.“Missed you,” he muttered against my lips. I gasped into his mouth as he backed me against the desk, his hands roaming my sides. Heat licked down my spine as his thigh pressed between mine. His tongue tangled with mine, stealing every coherent thought from my brain. His mouth trailed down to my jaw, then my throat, biting just hard enough to make me whimper. “Roman—” I tried to laugh, to remind him we were in his office, but it dissolved into a moan as his hand slid higher, cupping the curve of my thigh. He lifted me up onto the desk, his papers scattering. His palm skimmed beneath my skirt, up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, then further, slipping under my panties. I shuddered, clutching at his shoulders, my body already arching into him. “God, I want you,” he growled, his mouth hot against the top of my breasts. He tugged down the collar of my shirt, teeth grazing my skin as I gasped. My hand fumbled at his belt, desperate, fingers tugging at his zipper. The bulge beneath it was hard, straining, and I rubbed him through the fabric as heat rushed through me. His hand teased against me, slick and insistent, making my head fall back. “Roman—” My voice was broken, needy. Somewhere between his teeth at the top of my breast and my hand tugging at his zipper, the words slipped out before I could stop them. “What if… what if we—” He swallowed the rest in a kiss, devouring me, his thumb pressing harder against me until I cried out. Then the door swung open without so much as a knock. I froze. Roman stilled just enough to register it, though his body still caged me against the desk. My head whipped toward the doorway. A woman stood there. She didn’t knock. She just walked in. And that was my first red flag. “Am I interrupting something?” The woman’s lips quirked like she’d walked into this scene a hundred times. Roman's head briefly dropped onto my shoulder, muttering a string of curses. I only managed to make out the first one. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.” Her gaze landed on me perched on the desk, my skirt rucked up, Roman’s body flush against mine. Heat flooded my face. Shame prickled under my skin as I scrambled off the desk, tugging down my skirt, trying to catch my breath. Roman stepped slightly in front of me, his expression unreadable.A woman walked in, tall, striking, her blonde hair perfectly arranged in waves that framed her sharp, blue eyes. Her black-and-white polka-dotted bag hung casually from her wrist as if it were an extension of her arm. She scanned the room and, for a fraction of a second, her smile slipped—just a flicker—before it returned, perfectly controlled. That tiny imperfection made my stomach twist. "Roman, I figured you’d still be in here," she said smoothly, professional but casual, like she’d done this a hundred times. "Thought I’d surprise you." Roman straightened, letting his hand slide away from me. His voice was calm, but with an edge of warning. "You could’ve called first." Her eyes flicked to me briefly, assessing me, then returned to Roman, playful and teasing. "You’re always hiding in your office. So I thought of bringing something to tempt you out." Roman’s jaw tightened, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "You never change." She took a step closer, her confidence like a weapon. "You didn’t answer my text, so I decided to barge in. You know me." Before I could even breathe, she leaned in, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek like I wasn't there. My stomach flipped violently. That familiarity, the way she moved so naturally around him. It was infuriating. I had the sudden urge to vanish. Or pull out her hair. Roman exhaled slowly, low and controlled. "Yes, I do." Then he turned to me. “Sav, meet my friend—” Only then did she turn her piercing blue gaze toward me, finally extending a manicured hand. "I’m Penny.”