From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 276

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 276**

“Believe me,” I murmured softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I buried my face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with the remnants of the night. “Please, baby.”

She gave a slight nod, almost imperceptible, and then pulled herself together, hastily brushing away the tears that had begun to streak down her cheeks. “L… I need air,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Let’s just sit for a moment then. Just a minute,” I suggested, hoping to ease the weight of the moment.

After a brief pause, she relented, and we found a quiet corner in the bustling bar. The chatter and laughter around us faded into a dull hum as we sat in silence. I gestured for another round of drinks, and she took her glass, sipping more slowly this time, the color gradually returning to her cheeks as the warmth of the alcohol began to work its magic.

When she finally broke the silence, her voice held a lighter tone, a hint of normalcy creeping back in. “I shouldn’t be here. I have court in the morning.”

“Ah, the infamous Senator White’s prodigal son?” I teased, a smirk playing on my lips. “Nine a.m., right?”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “How did you—?”

“I read,” I replied smoothly, enjoying the banter. “It’s a big case, isn’t it?”

She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Too big. If I don’t nail it, I’m finished.” The weight of her words hung in the air between us, a reminder of the pressures she faced.

“You’ll nail it,” I reassured her, my voice firm. “You always do. You’re the best there is.”

A small, weary laugh escaped her lips, a sound that warmed my heart. “You almost sound sincere.”

“Maybe I am,” I winked, trying to lighten the mood. “Just like old times. I’m always here to cheer you on. Go, Penny!” I cheered, my enthusiasm genuine.

To my delight, she giggled—a genuine, infectious sound that filled the space between us. But then, as if realizing the spontaneity of her laughter, she stopped abruptly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her expression.

Our eyes locked, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m really glad I ran into you here,” I said, my fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “After all these years, you still take my breath away.”

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Likewise,” she replied, her gaze dropping momentarily.

We fell into conversation, discussing the firm, the incessant whispers she claimed to hear whenever she passed her colleagues, and the looming specter of Roman that seemed to haunt her in every courtroom. I listened intently, each word she spoke a thread I would tug at later, weaving a deeper understanding of her struggles.

As the drinks kept coming, her tension began to dissipate, replaced by a tipsy warmth that lit up her features. She started to smile more freely, and when her laughter rang out—genuine and unrestrained—I knew I had her, completely.

I watched her go, admiring the graceful curve of her shoulders and the flash of beige fabric that caught the colored lights, a momentary glimpse of beauty in a chaotic world.

Then, I allowed a smile to spread across my face.

I tossed a few bills onto the counter, finished my whiskey with a satisfied gulp, and rose to my feet. The night air rushed in through the open doors, heavy with the scent of rain and exhaust, a reminder of the storm brewing outside. I could already envision her out there—finding her car, oblivious to the tires that awaited her.

Earlier, I had taken care of that. A tiny puncture in each tire, just enough to leave her stranded, conveniently right where I would drive by. She would curse under her breath, check her phone, realize the hour was late, and remember the man who hadn’t quite let her go.

Me.

As I stepped out of the club, zipping my jacket against the chill, the bouncer nodded me through, and I entered the city’s embrace. The streets glistened with rain, reflecting the neon lights that painted the night in vibrant hues. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, adding to the symphony of the city.

Phase one was almost complete. Almost.

By morning, Penelope would be tired, confused, and just desperate enough to accept help from the last man she should trust. And I would be waiting—keys in hand, car ready, smile prepared.

But first things first; the night wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.