From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 200

**Chapter 200: Go Home, Penny**

**Roman**

“Oops.”

Her voice, soft yet laced with a teasing undertone, made my jaw tense involuntarily. She didn’t even attempt to mask her lack of remorse. Instead, she leaned back against the marble counter, tilting her glass with a casual elegance, swirling the deep crimson liquid as if she owned the entire establishment.

The clatter of her fork against the porcelain plate echoed in my ears, a perfect little act staged just to grab my attention while I was engrossed in conversation with Savannah. It felt like a calculated move, a deliberate distraction.

I tightened my grip on my phone, feeling my patience begin to fray. “Really, Penny?” I questioned, turning to face her slowly, each word dripping with incredulity.

She lounged there, fork dangling carelessly from her fingertips, her eyes sparkling with a mischief that could ignite a conflict. “Sorry,” she replied, her tone utterly lacking in sincerity. “It just slipped.”

“Slipped? That was intentional. You wanted Savannah to know you were here with me.” My gaze traveled over her, catching the faint smirk that danced on her lips, a clear indication of her playful intentions. “That’s pretty low, even for you, Penny.”

With a slow, deliberate sip of her wine, she maintained eye contact, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not my fault you’re sneaking around behind your lady friend’s back.”

“Lady friend?” I scoffed, irritation bubbling to the surface. “She’s going to be my wife one day.” My voice was firm, cutting through the tension like a knife. “And I’m not sneaking around.”

“Then why not tell her that I’m in your kitchen right now?” she challenged, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. “Enjoying the most delicious Alfredo made by Chef Antonio, no less.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a gesture of frustration. “Most days, I seriously question how I even tolerate you.”

Her grin widened as she speared a piece of chicken, swirling it through the rich sauce. “Because I’m your greatest ally. Let’s be real, I’m the closest person to you in this world. We’ve been through so much together, Roman.”

With a resigned sigh, I finally took a seat across from her at the counter. The takeout boxes still emitted steam, filling the kitchen with a heavy aroma of garlic, cream, and parmesan. “Look, Penny,” I began, striving to keep my voice steady, “Savannah means no harm. She just… doesn’t understand you like I do. That’s all. She’s genuinely a good person. Perhaps your last stunt was a bit too much for her to handle.”

Penny arched an eyebrow, lifting her wine glass as if to toast my words. “A bit too much?” she echoed, laughter bubbling up in her voice. “Roman, I merely played with her. It was all in good fun. Why is she so serious?” Her laughter rang through the quiet kitchen, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. “She nearly tore me apart over a harmless prank. My God, Roman. Are you sure you want to spend your life with someone who’s such a drama queen? The next funeral I might attend could very well be yours.”

My grip on the glass tightened, the stem creaking softly against the marble surface. “She’s a sweet girl, Penny. You just pushed her too far.” I paused, feeling my jaw clench. “And for the record, I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life than my feelings for her. I love her.”

the air thickened, heavier, as if the lighthearted banter had dissipated, leaving only a dense tension.

“You’re planning to spend your life with this girl,” she said, her tone now sharper, more calculated. “You claim to have moved on. Yet she knows nothing about your past. Nothing about your—”

“Penelope,” I interrupted sharply, my voice slicing through her words like a knife. “I said, drop it.”

Her fork froze mid-air.

The silence that followed was stifling, the calm before the storm that I knew was about to erupt.

She set her fork down slowly, deliberately, careful not to make a sound this time. Then, with meticulous precision, she reached for her napkin, dabbed the corner of her mouth, folded it neatly, and placed it beside her plate. Every movement was calculated, deliberate, a practiced routine.

I watched her, my chest tightening, understanding this rhythm all too well. It was her way of signaling: I’m not finished yet.

From Best Friend To Fiancé