From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 393

Chapter 393

Chapter 223: Play Fair

Roman

Each step up the stairs felt like I was hauling a hundred weights chained to my spine.

Randall.

The name pulsed behind my eyes like a warning light that refused to shut off. If that lanky, sociopathic bastard was the one manning the cameras, then I’d bet my life he’d already wiped every second of footage that put Serena Matthews anywhere near those grounds. Randall didn’t just clean messes. He erased truths–especially the ones that inconvenienced our father.

“Bloody son of a bitch,” I muttered under my breath as my fingers curled around the handle of our bedroom door.

I twisted it slowly, carefully, easing it open so the hinges wouldn’t creak. Savannah needed her sleep. God knew she needed it more than

anyone right now. Paula was locked in the guest room where she’d stay and I had the key for a reason. Trust was a luxury I couldn’t

afford anymore, and Paula had not earned it. Not fully.

Chloe would sleep right where she was. That bus should be comfortable enough. That decision hadn’t even been up for debate. Savannah’s

peace of mind was priceless.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city bleeding through the curtains. Savannah lay on her side, her back to the door, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. For a moment, I just stood there, watching her breathe, letting the sight of her calm my racing

thoughts.

I closed the door softly behind me and crossed the room, lowering myself onto the edge of the bed. My elbows rested on my knees as I dropped my face into my palms.

Cameras. Serena. Randall. My father.

The puzzle pieces were there. They always were. What was missing was proof–and the bastard holding it would rather burn the whole house down than let me have it.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked up sharply.

Savannah was sitting up, the sheet pooled around her waist. Her hair was a mess of dark waves, sleep–tangled and wild, and despite everything clawing at my mind, the sight of her still knocked the air out of my lungs.

“You’re awake,” I whispered.

She nodded, offering me a small, tired smile, “Yeah. I woke up and you weren’t here. And I’m… sticky. I can’t sleep like that. I need a bath ”

I ran a hand down my face. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I tried to be quiet, but-”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, cutting me off,

I blinked, “What?”

She shifted closer to me, her movements slow, careful. “About earlier. In the car. I… shouldn’t have exploded like that. I shouldn’t have

said those things or asked you to do the impossible.” Her voice wavered. “That wasn’t fair to you. I was overwhelmed and emotional and—

yeah, I know it’s the baby, but that doesn’t excuse it.”

“Hey,” I murmured, reaching out to cup her cheek. Her skin was warm beneath my palm. “It’s okay. It really is. None of that was your

fault.”

She studied my face, searching for something. “You’re not mad?”

I shook my head. “I was never mad, Sav, Not for a second.” A faint smile tugged at my mouth. “Anyone in your position would be

frustrated. You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”

She let out a shaky breath. “That’s a relief. I was scared you were angry with me.”

I leaned in and pressed my forehead to hers. “Never.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “Do you want to help me with the bath?”

The look she gave me then–soft, coy, vulnerable–made something tighten in my chest.

I chuckled quietly, “Alright. Come on.”

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