Chapter 52 I'll Test It On You After Roman Savannah was mid-conversation with an older woman when I re-entered. One glance told me something was wrong. Her spine was too straight. Shoulders locked. Nails digging crescents into her thigh like she needed pain to stay grounded. Or endure whatever the woman was saying. Without wasting a second, I marched forward. I slid an arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder from behind, ignoring every rule of etiquette. She didn’t turn, just melted into me, like my presence was the only thing keeping her from snapping. Her fingers gripped mine tight as she kept listening. “Oh my goodness, you two make such a beautiful couple!” the woman gushed, instantly losing her train of thought. “Thank you,” Savannah said politely, her hold on me tightening another notch, as if to anchor herself. “As I was saying, dear… It’s such a shame things didn’t work out between you and—” Savannah cut her off. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Malcolm. Always lovely to see you. Please excuse us.” Her smile stayed perfect as she dragged me away, leaving the woman blinking after us. “Sorry about that,” she murmured over the throb of music. “Let me guess… chatty old lady?” “You could say that.” Her laugh was brittle, the sound catching in her throat. Lie. “An obsessive ex?” I asked. She stiffened. “Yeah… something like that. College days. She still ships us.” Another lie. And this one tasted more venomous. “Relax. You’re wound tight.” “I’m fine. I just need a drink.” She reached for a tray passing by.I caught her wrist. “No, you don’t.” Her brow arched. “What now? Playing chaperone?” “Just keeping you clear-eyed so I can fuck you again when we get back.” My hand slid lower, resting on her ass. “This time on a bed.” She froze. Pink flooded her cheeks. A cough came out of nowhere—pretend, to hide the flush. But her eyes didn’t stay on me, they flicked past my shoulder for half a second, like she was checking if someone else was watching. “We’re in public, Roman,” she hissed, glancing around. “Someone might hear you.” “Yeah. You’re right. Wouldn’t be polite to not give them a show to go with that.” She gasped, swatting my chest. “Roman!” I laughed. She really was acting like someone had heard us. She leaned in to whisper, “Say something like that again and I’ll kick you where the sun doesn’t shine.” “Go ahead,” I murmured, the crowd noise fading for me. “I’ll test it on you after. See if it still works, Sav.” I winked at her. Another gasp came from her but before she could bite back, a voice cut through. “Roman!” Savannah turned. “Dad?” He completely ignored her, clapping a hand on my shoulder instead. “My wife’s been looking for you. Come on—my friends are dying to meet you. I told them all about you.” Why does everyone around her treat her like a decorative prop? Now he's going to parade me around like a trophy, while ignoring her? Not happening. I kept my smile polite. “I’ll have to decline, sir. My fiancée’s tired. We were just heading out.” He frowned at Savannah. “Tired already? The couple haven’t even danced yet. And your sister says she has an announcement to make. You should be here to support her, Savannah.” Savannah’s smile was all porcelain now, the hurt buried under was threatening to spill out. “No, it’s fine. Go ahead, Roman. I’ll wait here.” My fists clenched. “Savannah—” “I insist. Go with Dad. I won’t move an inch.” Her voice didn’t shake, but her eyes didn’t meet mine. And in that split second, I saw it. A flicker of fear. Fucking Harts. A family full of assholes. “Good!” her father boomed. “This way, Roman. They want to hear all about your Forbes interview. And that hedge fund deal.” With one last look at her, and a small smile in return, I followed her father to be displayed like a prized possession. He led me through the crowd like he was hauling a trophy, his hand clamped to my shoulder as if he was afraid that I’d bolt. We stopped in front of a cluster of men in expensive suits, their wives standing beside them with diamond smiles. “This is Roman. My son-in-law.” he announced with a swell of pride that had nothing to do with me as a person. “Brilliant mind. He's scored multiple interviews with Forbes—and that hedge fund he’s built at twenty-four? Phenomenal. The kind of numbers you only dream about.” They all turned expectant eyes on me. “Impressive,” one of the men said, extending a hand. “Which sectors are you focusing on?” “Diversified,” I replied, shaking his hand.“And what’s Forbes covered?” another asked. “Business growth,” I said. There was a pause. They waited for me to elaborate. But I didn’t. Her father laughed too loud, trying to fill the silence. “He’s being modest. This young man here has a mind for market timing like you wouldn’t believe—” “How long have you been in the game?” another man interrupted. “A while,” I said, offering the ghost of a smile. Her father clapped my back like I’d just told the funniest joke. “See? Understated confidence. That’s what makes him so good.” They peppered me with more questions—about strategy, clients, overseas expansion. I gave them nothing but one-line answers, just polite enough to avoid making headlines for rudeness. I wasn’t here to feed their ego-stroking circle jerk. Over their shoulders, I could still see Savannah where I’d left her—standing alone in the crowd, sipping water, eyes fixed on nothing.And every passing second her father kept me here, playing show pony, I felt the urge to walk away grow sharper. One of the wives leaned in, her perfume hitting like a bomb. “So, Roman… Any tips for someone looking to dabble in hedge funds? My husband’s been talking about moving some of our assets—” “Don’t,” I said flatly. Her laugh faltered. She thought I was joking. I wasn’t. Her father jumped in before the awkwardness could breathe. “Ah, he’s just being coy. You know, keeping his edge close to the chest. That’s what makes him—” “I should check on my fiancée,” I cut in, already stepping back. “Stay, stay,” he urged, his hand catching my arm. “I told them all about your mergers and—” “I’m sure you did,” I said, my voice polite enough to pass but cold enough to warn. “My fiancée’s been standing alone for too long. Excuse me.” Before he could pull me back into his circle, I was already moving—threading through the crowd, leaving his strained laugh behind. Savannah’s eyes lifted the moment I reached her, and that fake smile she’d been wearing softened. “You looked like you wanted to bite someone’s head off,” she said under her breath. “I almost did.” I reached for her hand. “Let’s get out of here before I do.” We’d barely taken two steps toward the exit when the mic screeched, pulling every head toward the stage. Chloe stood there in her snow-white gown, a glass of wine in hand and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “Before anyone leaves,” she cooed, “we have a little announcement to make.” Savannah’s grip on my hand went rigid.