Chapter 147 Have Dinner With Me If I had my way, I’d have my own office—four solid walls, a door that actually closes, and the glorious sound of silence. Instead, I have this box. This stupid, cramped cubicle where privacy goes to die and gossip thrives like mold. Whoever invented open offices must’ve been a sadist. It's a direct attack on staff privacy. Especially today. Every Goldberg employee within a ten-foot radius was practically leaning over my desk like I was holding a raffle ticket to heaven. Why? Because my fiancé was in the building. Yes, that fiancé. Roman Blackwood—now currently the most gossip-worthy man in Philadelphia. Apparently, his mere presence was enough to turn my coworkers into a swarm of buzzing reporters. I tried to look busy, eyes glued to my computer screen as if the page before me was more fascinating than the whispers floating around.“He’s really here,” Susan said, twirling her hair around her pen. “In our building. Savannah, you lucky, lucky witch.” I sighed internally. If only I could get paid for every time someone called me lucky. “So,” Susan continued, sprawling across my desk like she was posing for a lingerie ad. “You never told us how you bagged Mr. Sexy Pants himself.” I leaned back in my chair, forcing a polite smile. “Bagged?” She grinned. “Don’t act innocent. We've all seen that man strut in here looking all sexy. The man looks like he walked out of a fantasy. How does it feel to wake up next to that?” I bit back the urge to roll my eyes. “It feels like living with someone who is twice my size, lets me steal the blankets, forgets to eat, and literally does mergers in his sleep.” The group of women around me giggled. They thought I was joking. “Come on,” Grace pressed, propping her chin on her palm. “Give us the details. We want tips. I want a rich man too. Who wants to stay glued to a desk all the days of their life? That's miserable.” A chorus of laughter followed, and I smiled sweetly. “There’s really no secret. He’s my best friend. They say marry your friend, right? I just happened to marry mine.” Their gasps were theatrical. “Aww,” one of them said, clasping her hands together. “That’s actually so cute.” “Cute?” Susan echoed, smirking. “No. That’s suspiciously perfect.” I gave her a look. “Trust me, it’s not. He’s infuriating.” They laughed again, thinking I was exaggerating. Grace leaned closer. “But like… how? Did you use a trick? A strategy? A type of perfume?” I tilted my head. “I probably just annoyed him so much he decided it was easier to marry me than to get rid of me.” They looked at each other in confusion. “So we’re supposed to… annoy men to get their attention?” Susan said slowly. “Be clowns?” I snapped my fingers. “Bingo! That’s the secret formula.” They blinked at me, trying to tell if I was joking. I smiled, watching the gears turn in Grace’s head.“So all this time,” Grace said, serious now, “we’ve been doing it wrong?” I almost lost it. “Exactly. You've been working the wrong hole. It's in the mouth, ladies. Talk your way into his dreams. Unlock your inner jester. Men love that.” I almost burst into laughter myself. I hope they're not stupid enough to buy this. They giggled, whispering amongst themselves, and I exhaled, relieved to have distracted them long enough to maybe get back to my actual job. But then Susan leaned forward again, eyes sparkling. “Obsessed,” she said, smirking. “Like your fiancé watching you from a distance obsessed?” My stomach flipped. I spun around, and there he was. Roman. Standing near the glass conference room with my boss, dressed in that perfectly tailored navy blue suit that hugged his shoulders like sin. He was mid-conversation—but his eyes were locked on me. And God help me, that look alone could melt an iceberg. The air thickened around me. The chatter, the fluorescent lights, the keyboard clatter—all of it faded until it was just him and me.His gaze moved slowly, deliberately. From my face, down the line of my neck, lingering at my chest where my button was undone, before trailing lower. My skin flushed under his scrutiny, every inch of me humming like a live wire. Then, as if he could read the memory flashing through my mind—his voice a week ago, low and hot as hell, telling me to sit on his face—he smirked. That damn smirk. Heat surged through me. My thighs pressed together involuntarily. He noticed. Of course he noticed. And the smirk widened, his lips curving with that lazy, devastating confidence that made me forget how to breathe. Then, casually, he lifted a hand and waved at me. My coworkers gasped like a live studio audience. I waved back weakly, trying not to combust. “Oh my God,” one of the girls whispered. “If he doesn’t look at me like that, I don’t want him.” I rolled my eyes, though my pulse was sprinting. Before I could recover, the sound of quiet gasps and whispered shrieks spread behind me. My coworkers scattered faster than roaches under light. Susan practically dove for her chair. Grace grabbed her phone and pretended to type an email. I frowned, confused—until I felt warm breath brush my ear. “Was I the topic of discussion?” I jumped, spinning around. Roman stood right behind me, close enough that his cologne wrapped around me. My brain short-circuited for a second. “Roman,” I breathed. “You scared me.” He smiled, that slow, dangerous kind of smile. “That wasn’t my intention. I came to see you.” His voice was a low rasp, vibrating through me. “I thought you were here for business,” I said, glancing toward the glass wall where my boss was nowhere in sight. “I was,” he said, leaning one hand on my desk and the other on the armrest of my chair, caging me in. “But then I realized there’s someone more interesting than any merger.” My heart fluttered. “Roman, everyone’s watching,” I whispered, cheeks burning.He tilted his head. “Let them.” And then he kissed me. Right there. In the middle of my workplace. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it didn’t have to be. His lips brushed mine with intentional slowness, like he wanted everyone watching to know exactly who I belonged to. Gasps echoed. Someone actually dropped a pen. I buried my face in his chest, mortified. “Roman,” I hissed. “My boss—” “Won’t fire you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Terry wants me happy.” “That’s not how this works!” I protested quietly. “It is today.” I exhaled, torn between wanting to crawl under my desk and melt into him. His hand slipped down, brushing the back of my neck. Goosebumps raced up my spine. He smiled. “Have dinner with me tonight.” “What?” I blinked. “Roman, we literally live together.” “So?” His eyes glinted. “Let me take you out. I’ll buy you a dress. Then I’ll stand outside the door and pick you up at eight.”I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re ridiculous.” “Persistent,” he corrected smoothly. “Roman—” He leaned closer, his breath grazing my lips. “Say yes.” My heart did a full somersault. “You don’t even know if I’m free.” “I’ll make sure you are.” His tone was quiet, sure. “So, yes?” I hesitated just to tease him. “Hmm…” “Savannah.” His voice dropped an octave. God, I loved when he said my name like that—half warning, half plea. I bit my lip, giving up the game. “Okay. Fine. I’ll go out with you.” He smiled, that rare, dazzling grin that softened everything about him. “Perfect.” Before I could blink, he kissed me again—quick, possessive, and gone in a breath. Then he stepped back, straightened his suit jacket, and whispered, “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he was walking away, drawing every pair of eyes in the office with him. When I turned back, the entire floor was silent. Then, like clockwork, Susan leaned over her cubicle wall, wide-eyed. “Girl,” she whispered. “What was that?” I just smiled, trying not to blush. “That,” I said, “was my fiancé asking me out.” She blinked. “Again? Don’t you two, like, live together?” “Yeah.” I looked at the door where Roman had disappeared and smiled to myself. “But I guess he still likes to make it official.” Grace sighed dreamily. “If he doesn’t treat me like that, I don’t want him.” “Careful,” I teased. “You might have to unlock your inner jester first.” They laughed, and for once, I joined them—heart still racing, lips tingling, the scent of him still clinging to my skin. And as I turned back to my computer screen, pretending to work, one thought lingered in my mind like a spark I couldn’t shake. I’d spent the morning hating my cubicle. But right now, with my heart still fluttering and Roman’s words echoing in my head—Have dinner with me tonight—I couldn’t think of a single thing I hated less. Because the truth was simple. The hottest man I’d ever met just asked me out on a date. And he was mine.