From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 96

**Chapter 62: He Knew**

“You should have called me the second it happened.”

Roman’s voice held that unmistakable cool authority I had grown all too familiar with. It wasn’t loud or filled with anger; it was simply steady, unwavering. And in its calmness lay a far more potent form of reprimand than any shout could convey.

“I know,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper as I perched on the edge of the bed, feeling much like a guilty teenager caught in the act. “And I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like being disobeyed, Savannah.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air between us.

He didn’t glance at me immediately. Instead, he was engrossed in the task of folding shirts with meticulous care, each movement sharp and precise, a testament to his control. I could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he finally broke the silence.

“I hate the thought of you being alone with him.”

“I know,” I echoed, my voice softer this time, laced with a hint of vulnerability. My fingers twisted nervously at the hem of my top, a habit I couldn’t shake. “But it was just… confusing. Annoying. He’s always so easily swayed by her charm, but for once, it felt like he was actually thinking straight.”

With a sharp snap, Roman closed the suitcase, the sound cutting through the room and making me flinch involuntarily. He turned to face me, arms crossed tightly over his chest, a fortress of resolve.

“Well, I don’t care about that duo,” he said, his tone gruff, “I’m just counting down the hours until tomorrow when we can finally get the hell out of here.”

My gaze darted toward the corner of the room, where my keys lay abandoned on the dresser. “What about my car? Do we go back separately?”

“I’ll send someone for it tomorrow,” he replied without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re riding with me.”

I nodded, though a part of me bristled at how final and authoritative his words sounded. And yet, a larger part of me melted at his display of authority, a warmth spreading through my chest.

At that moment, muffled voices seeped through the thin walls, a woman’s quiet sobs mingling with a man’s low, jagged responses. I froze, my heart racing.

Roman’s head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the sound. “What the hell is happening over there?” he murmured, his voice slicing through the tense silence.

“Why do I find it hard to believe that he’s actually concerned?” I replied, my tone laced with skepticism.

“He is,” I insisted quickly, perhaps too quickly. “He told me the wedding isn’t happening. That’s why he’s here. He’s going to end things with her.” A swell of pride filled me as I spoke those words, a small victory in the chaos.

Roman let out a laugh that lacked warmth, tinged with sarcasm. “You really don’t understand the power your sister holds over him, do you?”

My frown deepened, disbelief washing over me. “Who marries a woman who cheats and gets pregnant by her? He’s over her, Roman.”

He shook his head, chuckling as if I were a naive child insisting the sky was green. “That’s what you think.”

He returned to his packing, his movements methodical and maddeningly calm. I crossed my arms, a mixture of annoyance and agitation bubbling within me.

“The point is, I won,” I declared defiantly, lifting my chin. “The wedding’s not happening. And it’s because of me. I ruined her fairytale romance, and honestly?” A grin spread across my lips as I reveled in the moment. “I feel damn proud of myself.”

Finally, Roman turned to me, amusement flickering in his stormy eyes as he let out a deep, low laugh. “Did you, though?”

“Yes, I won,” I insisted, my confidence surging. “It’s a huge accomplishment, making her miserable. After everything she’s done? She deserves it.”

“Noted,” he drawled, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Sav.”

I tossed my short hair over my shoulder, a grin stretching wider across my face. “You bet.”

Later, after Roman had meticulously finished packing and double-checked every detail for our morning departure, my thoughts drifted back to the earlier conversation with my father. The memory pricked at me like a needle, sharp and unwelcome.

I glanced over at Roman, who was now seated at the desk, scrolling through his laptop, reading glasses perched comfortably on his nose.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the gravity of our conversation. “I can pull strings. I don’t mind.”

“Why?” I demanded, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Why would you even want to help him?”

Roman’s gaze sharpened, and his tone dropped, heavy with implications. “That’s the right question, Sav. Why? The hook is…” He let the pause stretch, and my heart thudded painfully in my chest. “You’re the reason he gave it up in the first place.”

The world tilted beneath me. My breath caught in my throat, and my palms grew slick with sweat.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no sound emerged. My throat felt locked, as if the very act of speaking had been stolen from me.

Roman arched a brow, clearly enjoying my unraveling. “You look like you’ve got something to say, Sav.”

I shook my head, the only response I could muster.

“No?” His smile deepened dangerously, a predator savoring its prey. “Alright. Well, your father told me some… interesting stories. But I don’t buy everything. Especially when he’s the one selling.” He continued, leaning closer. “I’d rather hear it straight from those delicious lips of yours.”

The blood drained from my face. He couldn’t know. Not that.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice low and deliberate.

I waited, counting the seconds that felt like hours.

It was only a few moments, but it stretched on, heavy with unspoken words.

“So, tell me what happened with the Kingstons.”