Chapter 135 I'm Awake Now Clutching the two wine glasses and the take-out bag in my hand, I storm back to the bedroom. My pulse is pounding so hard it feels like the floor trembles with each step. The edges of the bag crinkle against my palm. The faint scent of wine and garlic from the take-out still lingers. Anger burns through me, alive, blistering, almost dizzying. My fingers shake around the glass stems. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, heavy and unrelenting. If he thinks he can be sneaky behind my back and still get a good night’s sleep, then he’s absolutely mistaken. The hallway was dim, but I could see the faint spill of light under the bedroom door. My pulse beat in my throat as I walked faster. I kick it open with the side of my foot, and it slams against the wall with a bang that echoes through the silent house. Roman jolts upright in bed, his messy hair catching the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He blinks like a man waking from a dream. “Sav..?” he says slowly, squinting, his voice still husky from sleep, as if he isn’t sure I’m real. Well, I hope this is real enough for him. I march toward him, the glasses trembling in my hand. My skin feels too tight for my body, fury pressing against every inch of me. “Wake the fuck up, Roman!” He’s still not fully awake now. His eyes sharpen, confusion turning into concern, a faint frown settling between his brows. “Savannah?” “I said, wake the fuck up!” I repeat, louder, my voice slicing through the air. “Or I swear to God, I’ll start breaking things!” “Jesus Christ, I’m awake now,” he mutters, sitting up. The sheet slides down his bare chest, revealing the smooth planes of his shoulders. “What’s wrong—” Then his gaze drops to what I’m holding, and he freezes. His expression falters, lips parting slightly. “Sav, it’s not what you think, okay?” I feel my jaw tighten, my grip around the bag growing painful. I’m not in the mood for lies or soft words. “Did or did she not come here while I was gone?” I bark, my tone sharp enough to startle a man in uniform. His eyes flick from the wine glasses to my face. His throat works once. “Sav, please… let me—” “Roman Nicholas Blackwood!” My voice shakes from the force of it. “For the love of God, answer the simple fucking question! Was Penelope here or not?!” He sighs, that deep, tired sigh that usually means he’s already guilty. “She was.” His hands move, palms up, a silent plea for me to wait. “But it’s not what you’re thinking.” I laughed once—annoyed, humorless. “Let me guess… Your lawyer needed two wineglasses and take-out? What was that, a consultation over Italian cuisine? And that also required you to lie to me. Tell me, was that lie before or after you poured the wine?” He flinched. “It wasn’t like that.” “It never is, right? Never like that until it is.” The words came faster, my throat tightening. “You told me you were alone, Roman. You lied.” “It wasn't my intention to.” I stepped back until the wall pressed cold against my spine. “You could have told me.” “I should have,” he said quickly. “But I was afraid you’d think the worst.” “Congratulations, Roman, I already do.” His fingers tangled in his hair and tugged on the strands. “Sav, I swear it's not whatever you're thinking.” I nod repeatedly, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Oh, great! You know what I’m thinking? Nice. Maybe you should remember me thinking about how much I find that lady infuriating. And yet, Roman, you still snuck her into your house in my absence, after my obvious dislike for her. After I warned you not to! For fuck’s sake, I told you not to meet up with her. And guess what you still did. You did exactly that! How am I supposed to feel? Over the flipping moon? You expect me to be happy? To clap for you? Is that it? Answer me, Roman!” My voice cracks at the edges. The wine glasses clink faintly in my trembling hand. He drags a hand down his face, looking exhausted. “I’m sorry, Sav. I didn’t mean to hurt you—” “But you did!” I snap. “That’s the problem, Roman. You didn’t mean to, but you still did! Now how am I supposed to trust you again when I can’t even trust that you wouldn’t do the one thing I expect you not to do?” The tension between us is almost visible now — like heat waves in the air. His eyes are dark, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. “Sav, I’m sorry. I’m really truly sorry.” His voice lowers, quiet but urgent. “Penny’s my close friend. And she’s my lawyer too. For how long can I avoid my lawyer in my line of work, my love? Besides, she didn’t mean any harm. Penny was just messing with you that day. Nothing else.” I let out a short, humorless laugh that feels like it rips something open inside me. “Are you serious right now? Did you just look me in the eye and say that to me? You can't avoid your lawyer? And that meeting required two glasses of wine and take-out? Did you file her briefs between mouthfuls of pasta?” He tries to reach for me, his hand brushing the air between us. “Savannah, please—” “Don’t do that! You betrayed me, Roman. You played me for a fool—” He suddenly chuckles, quick and short, as if something about this madness is amusing to him. My anger spikes higher. “Roman, are you literally laughing right now?” He shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth still twitches with a reluctant smile. “Sav, that was funny. I could never play you for a fool, my darling. I love you.” I frown, heart pounding, a mix of anger and unwanted warmth rising in my chest. “I know you do! But that still doesn’t mean that I’ll play stupid or blind when I stumble upon two wine glasses and a bag of take-out in your kitchen after you lied to me earlier that you were alone and making breakfast!” His smile fades like light snuffed out. “I didn’t mean to—” “But you fucking did!” I cut him off sharply. “That sound in the background, that was her, right? That was no pot or pan. That was Penny, wasn't it?” He hesitates before giving a small, guilty nod. I scoff, a bitter sound that barely conceals the hurt beneath it. “And you still try to convince me that she means no harm. What are you high on? Drugs? Is that it? Or are you just plain stupid, Roman?” His head snaps up, frustration flickering across his face. “Jesus Christ, Savannah… please stop. I'm starting to feel like a victim here.” He exhales heavily, running a hand down his face. “I’d have been in handcuffs if I was the one doing what you’re doing right now.” “Don’t you dare change the subject.” I pointed a finger at him. “And don't try to turn this into a joke. This is serious, Roman.” “I’m not, Sav.” He groans softly. “I just don’t like when we fight.” His fingers rake through his hair again, strands falling over his forehead. “Please, just stop.” The way he says it — low, pleading — almost softens me, almost. “No,” I say, steadying myself. “I won’t stop. Not until I feel like it.” He exhales sharply, tension rippling through him. “She wasn’t here for anything else besides a peace treaty. Sav, Penny and I have come a long way. I can’t just throw her out like that. She’s my friend. She’s been through a lot in life. Please understand my situation.” He gets up from the bed, the sheet slipping down, revealing the curve of his hips, the strength of his body. For a moment, the fight pauses — or maybe it’s me who pauses — my breath catching despite the case at hand. My eyes drop before I can stop them. Heat floods my face. I gulp and look away, desperate to regain control. Focus, Savannah. His bare feet pad across the floor. The distance between us closes, and his hands find my shoulders, warm and steady. “I love you,” he says quietly, searching my face. “Not her. Not anyone else. Just you, Sav. I’m fucking crazy over you that I’ll never look at another woman the way I look at you. Ever. What do I have to do to make you believe that I’d never dream of touching another woman that isn’t you? Tell me, Sav, and I’ll do it.”The world narrows to the heat of his skin through the fabric of my clothes. His voice drops lower, almost breaking. I try to fight the thoughts clawing their way into my mind—the image of his body against mine, the memory of how his voice sounds when he whispers my name. I can feel my composure splintering under the weight of his nearness. “Sav, please look at me.” And I do. Against my better judgment, I meet his eyes. They’re soft—desperate, even—and for a fleeting moment, all I see is the man who once made me forget my past. His thumb brushes the edge of my jaw, careful, reverent, and I hate that my heart flinches instead of hardening. “Forgive me,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know how to tell you without angering you, and I didn’t want that. I don’t want you getting angry or sad. Turns out I still made you mad after all, so I’m sorry. It was not my intention, my love.” “Apology still not accepted, Roman. You betrayed me.” He tilts my chin up, and his eyes plead more than his words ever could. “What do you want? Do you want me to kneel? Fine, I’ll do it. Just promise me you’ll stop—”“No.” I take a step back, clutching the bag tighter. “I’m going to ask you one question, Roman. Just one. And you’re going to answer me honestly.” Something flickers across his face—fear, sharp and fleeting, but enough to make my stomach twist. His hands tighten around my arms, and his breathing slows, like he’s preparing himself for a blow. “I promise, Sav,” he says finally, his voice rough. The silence stretches. The air between us feels heavier than before. I can feel my pulse everywhere—in my ears, in my chest, in my wrists. I take a breath, slow and deliberate. My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “Have you ever slept with her?” The question hangs in the air like guillotine waiting to drop. His expression freezes — every trace of movement gone. The tension in the room shifts instantly. My lungs burn, but I don’t blink. I don’t even move. The silence is deafening. The clock ticks somewhere in the house, and I can almost hear my heart trying to claw its way out of my chest. And for the first time since I kicked open that door, Roman looks like he doesn’t have an answer.