Spoilers Said He Hates Me

[Can this side character read the room? The male lead has an avoidant attachment style. He is literally repulsed by her touch!]

I was mid-way through begging my aloof boyfriend for a goodnight kiss when the bold, glowing words materialized out of thin air. The floating comments didn't stop there. They claimed that the second the real female lead appeared, my clingy self would be dumped. Trashed.

Ice flooded my veins.

I ripped my arms away from his neck. I scrambled to the absolute edge of the mattress, pressing my spine against the cold air, swearing to never let a single centimeter of my skin graze his again.

Thenskin burned against mine. Roman, the icy boyfriend who supposedly despised my very existence, locked his fingers around my retreating wrist. His grip was a vice. A dark, dangerous heat swirled in the depths of his eyes. His voice was extremely hoarse. "Yesterday's goodnight kiss," he murmured. "Are we making up for it now?"

Chapter 1

I shifted my gaze, suddenly too intimidated to look him in the eye. I quietly clutched the sheets and whispered, "I'm tired."

Roman didn't blink. He just stared at me. Two agonizing seconds ticked by. He must not have caught the tremor in my voice. He rolled over. "Go to sleep," he said, the words clipped and devoid of warmth.

I stared at the rigid line of his spine. My chest felt heavy. The more my thoughts spiraled, the deeper the ache grew, keeping me awake long into the night. I forced myself up to flick off the lamp. Plunged into darkness, the floating words burned behind my eyelids. I shifted to the absolute edge of the mattress. I left a chasm of empty sheets between us. No more forcing my warmth on him. No more pathetic, needy touching. Maybe this way, the resentment in his eyes would fade.

His breathing leveled out, a low, rhythmic cadence in the quiet room. My mind spun. Deep down, the truth had always been there.

Roman didn't love me.

Since the day we had made it official, he had kept me at arm's length. Every attempt at intimacy was met with a microscopic flinch. A subtle step back. And I was an absolute clinger. A walking red flag of obsession.

I wanted to breathe his air twenty-four-seven. He never voiced a complaint, but the evidence was etched into his featuresthe slight tightening of his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders whenever I closed the distance. I had been willfully blind.

I had manipulated my way into his apartment, feeding him some pathetic lie about being terrified of living alone. Then, I pushed the boundary further. Crawling into his bed. Wrapping around him every night like an octopus.

He tolerated it. But the micro-hesitation was always there. The instinctive stiffening of his muscles before he forced himself to relax. I had suffocated him with my desperation.

Those floating comments weren't just a glitch. They were the ugly, undeniable truth. My throat constricted. Even without meeting his eyes, I could feel the cold tension radiating off him. I lay there fighting the burning sting behind my eyes until exhaustion finally dragged me under.

Heat radiating against my cheek woke me. Roman's solid chest rose and fell beneath my palm. Panic spiked my pulse. Muscle memory had betrayed me; I had gravitated back to him in my sleep.

If he woke up to find me clinging to him again, the disgust in his eyes would destroy me. I held my breath. Inch by inch, I slid my arm back. I was almost free. The heavy, warm air between our bodies was the only thing left connecting us.

Then, rough calluses clamped around my wrist.

My breath hitched. I snapped my head up, colliding instantly with Roman's pitch-black stare. His pupils were dilated, swallowing the iris. He was awake.

"What are you doing?" The words vibrated out of him, a low, morning-rough growl.

I yanked my hand, but his grip didn't budge. I shoved my palms flat against the hard planes of his chest, fighting the immediate physiological urge to melt into the heat of his skin. "It'sit's late," I stuttered, my voice trembling. "I need to get ready for work."

Roman said nothing. He just watched me. A heavy silence stretched between us.

[He's totally pissed because she's smothering him in his sleep again.]

[For real. Who actually likes being held all night? It's a nightmare.]

[They're adults. Can she learn what boundaries are?]

[I'd lose my mind dealing with a clingy girl like her, let alone the male lead.]

Suddenly, the glowing text materialized between us. I dropped my gaze. My eyelashes fluttered against my cheeks. A sickening wave of humiliation washed over me, burning hot beneath my skin. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

Then, a subtle shift in the mattress. The rustle of sheets. His face hovered inches from mine. I could feel the intense heat of his breath grazing my lips. "Yesterday's goodnight kiss," Roman murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rich and dangerously low. "Are we making up for it now?"

Chapter 2

Before, whenever Roman had flown out for a business trip, I had kept a ruthless tally. If he missed a morning or goodnight kiss, I made sure he paid his debts. I acted like an emotional loan shark. He missed one. I demanded ten.

The first time I laid out my rules, he let out a dark, disbelieving laugh. "Anya, don't you think you're pushing it?"

I just blinked, entirely oblivious to his frustration. I simply cupped his sharp jaw in both hands and pressed a barrage of satisfied kisses to his lips. Over time, Roman stopped fighting it.

The overt resistance faded. But remembering the micro-flinch last nightthe way his muscles locked before he forced himself stillthe truth slammed into me.

He had been faking it.

Panic spiked my heart rate. I ripped my hands away, practically throwing myself back. "You don't have to." The words tumbled out, breathless and pathetic. I dropped my chin to my chest, staring at the duvet. "Wewe can skip the morning and goodnight kisses from now on."

Roman's gaze snapped to mine. His eyes darkened. After a moment, "Suit yourself," he finally clipped out, his tone sounding a bit petulant.

A fractured exhale punched out of my lungs. I survived the interaction, but a sickening ache twisted my gut. I was right. I was nothing but a suffocating burden to him.

Downstairs at the kitchen island, Roman finished his coffee long before I did. He leaned against the marble counter, his dark eyes tracking my every move. The weight of his stare made my skin burn. I shoved a bite of my bagel into my mouth, chewing frantically to speed up the process.

A slight crease marred the space between his brows. "Slow down," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I just gave a stiff nod, my cheeks puffed out like a cornered squirrel.

Ten minutes later, Roman grabbed his keys to drop me off at my office. We were already running behind schedule. The glowing text reappeared, pulsing with frantic energy.

[Wait, isn't today the day the main couple finally meets?]

[Yes! The real female lead starts at his company today. She's competent, handles social situations like a pro, and most importantlyshe actually respects boundaries.]

[Exactly. He can finally breathe around her. Zero pressure.]

[Once he gets a taste of a high-value woman like her, he's going to dump this clingy red flag so fast.]

All the blood drained from my face.

Today was the day. The day Roman met Cora. My chest felt heavy, and for some reason, the air around me seemed to grow thin.

"Get in." Roman's voice sliced through the ringing in my ears. He stood by his sleek black SUV, waiting.

I dug my heels into the concrete. "You go ahead," I said. "I'll grab an Uber to the office."

Instead of getting into the driver's seat, Roman slammed the door shut. He closed the distance between us in a few long strides. His imposing frame cast a heavy shadow over me, trapping me in his orbit. His gaze dragged over my face, calculating and sharp. "You're pissed," he stated. It wasn't a question. "This is about last night. Because I dodged your kiss."

I tilted my head back, meeting his eyes with genuine confusion. "I'm not." Why would I be mad? The glowing text had just force-fed me a massive reality check. I was simply trying to fix my clingy habits.

Roman didn't buy a single word. He took another step forward, his expensive colognecedar and crushed mintinvading my senses. "Then why the sudden solo commute?"

My eyes darted away. I couldn't exactly tell him a floating text box called me an obsessed stalker. "I just think" I swallowed hard, forcing the lie past my lips. "We should start giving each other some personal space."

Roman went dead still. His jaw clenched. He clearly hadn't anticipated that exact phrase coming out of my mouth. He stared at me for a fractured second before stepping back, the intense heat of his proximity vanishing. "Fine," he gritted out. "I'll pick you up after work."

He didn't wait for my confirmation. He pivoted on his heel, slid into the SUV, and tore out of the driveway, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. I spent the entire workday completely zoned out, my brain running on a devastating loop.

The glowing text had already delivered the final blow. Roman was supposed to drive Cora home tonight. He wasn't coming for me. The text mocked my pathetic, delusional hope.

Chapter 3

My heart hammered against my ribs as I pushed through the glass doors of my office building. The familiar matte-black SUV was nowhere in sight. Roman used to be parked in that exact spot, ten minutes early, every single day. I stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring at the empty asphalt.

"Anya?" A crisp, bright voice shattered my trance. "What are you doing standing out here? Can't get an Uber? Makes sense, it's rush hour. Skip the subway crush, I'll take you back on my bike."

I spun around. A guy stood there, holding a sleek motorcycle helmet against his hip. He was the new hire from two days ago. Flashy streetwear, unapologetically loud energy. An instinctual rejection rose in my throat. But a crack of thunder rumbled overhead, and the sky bruised into a heavy, suffocating purple. I gave a stiff nod. "Thanks."

Flynn towered over me by at least a foot. He casually slipped the heavy helmet over my head, his movements easy. "Don't mention it."

A harsh, blaring car horn ripped through the air. Before I could flinch, Roman was already out of his car, his long strides eating up the pavement. His hand clamped down on mine, fingers interlacing with a bruising, possessive grip. With his free hand, he unbuckled the helmet and yanked it off my head. He shoved the helmet back toward the new guy, his expression deadpan. "Hey. I'm Anya's boyfriend, Roman."

Flynn blinked, then a slow, taunting smirk spread across his face. "You're failing the boyfriend test, man. What took you so long? We clocked out ages ago."

A suffocating awkwardness settled over us. I gave Roman's hand a slight tug, desperate to break the tension. "Roman, let's go home." I offered Flynn a quick, awkward wave. "We're heading out. See you."

"Ride safe!"

Roman's expression remained dark the entire walk to the SUV. His legs were impossibly long. His pace was punishing. I had to practically jog just to keep from being dragged.

Once the heavy car doors slammed shut, enclosing us in the quiet cabin, I opened my mouth to explain. The words died on my tongue. My gaze locked onto the dashboard. Sitting right there, tucked under the windshield, was a tiny, plush kitten. Roman hated cats. That plushie definitely wasn't there yesterday.

[Lol, that cute little cat plushie? Cora definitely left it there.]

[Look at her face. She totally put two and two together.]

[If she had any dignity, she'd just pack her bags and leave before she humiliates herself further.]

[Does she seriously think the male lead was acting jealous back there? Please. No guy wants the embarrassment of being cheated on in public.]

I blinked, slow and robotic. I fought back the tears stinging my eyes. The floating text hadn't lied. He really did drive Cora home.

He hated cats, yet he let her leave her stupid plushie right on his dash. At this rate, the breakup text was probably already drafted. I sniffled and silently moved a little further away from Roman.

I refused to be pathetic when the end finally came. After forcing down the dinner Roman cooked, I waited until the heavy oak door of his home office clicked shut. I quietly moved my things from the master bedroom into the guest room. No more hovering outside his office. No more begging him to log off and come to bed.

I took a scalding shower until my skin turned red. I crawled into the unfamiliar guest bed alone. I curled into a tight, miserable ball, burying myself entirely under the heavy duvet. My toes were freezing. Starting tonight, no one was going to warm them up for me anymore.

Chapter 4

My spiraling thoughts were abruptly severed by a sharp rap on the bedroom door. I jolted up from the bed and opened the door, hiding behind it with only my head poking out. "Roman? Do you need something?"

A leather-clad boot wedged into the gap, stopping the door dead. Roman stared down at me. His dark aura practically sucked the oxygen from the room. "Why are you in here?"

I dropped my gaze to his chest, suddenly finding the dark buttons of his shirt incredibly fascinating. "I want to sleep alone."

Roman stared at me intently, his eyes darkening. The temperature plummeted. "Reason." Roman's voice was cold.

Fleeing to the guest room in the middle of the night made me look completely unhinged. I stared at the hardwood floor, forcing out the pathetic excuse Id rehearsed. "Youyou mentioned before that I'm a terrible sleeper." I swallowed hard. "I don't want to ruin your sleep quality. I'll just stay out here until I fix my bad habits."

"Sleep with me." The immediate, gravelly response vibrated through the narrow gap. "I'll fix it for you."

Heat rushed straight to the tips of my ears. It was a sterile, practical offer. But the rough, low timber of his voice dragged across my nerve endings, sparking a dangerous friction.

I inexplicably thought of the countless nights we slept in each other's arms. The crushing weight of his shirtless body. The scorching heat radiating from his bare chest pressed flush against my spine. The rough scrape of his jaw dragging across my crown.

But I had forced every single one of those moments. I had weaponized my neediness, practically demanding he wrap himself around me every night. He must have been suffocating. A sickening twist of guilt gnawed at my stomach.

Before I could formulate a rejection, rough calluses closed around my wrist. I yanked my hand back. The violent, flinching motion severed the connection instantly, as if I had touched an open wire. Romans gaze turned lethal.

I dug my teeth into my lower lip, desperately trying to anchor my racing heart. "No," I breathed out. "I really like sleeping alone. I just need some personal space."

Roman stared right through me. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Fine." The word cut through the heavy air. "Don't regret it."

The weekend trapped us both in the house. In a totally uncharacteristic move, Roman told me to come down to the media room for a thriller. I froze. Throwing myself into a dark, enclosed space with him was a massive red flag. The second a jump scare hit, my muscle memory would override my brain, and I'd be scrambling right back into his lap out of sheer habit.

And Roman despised my touch. Before, I had to practically beg for scraps of affection just to curl against his side during a movie. Every single time, his posture would lock up, rigid as a board. Even when the male and female leads kissed in the movie, he would calmly push me away. "It's suffocating in here," hed mutter, his voice strained and tight.

Once, I had reached up to brush a shadow off his cheek. He flinched, snapping his head back like my fingertips were coated in acid. Before I could even ask what was wrong, he bolted for the bathroom, treating me like a biohazard.

Love lives in the micro-actions. So does repulsion. That sick, sinking feeling bottomed out my stomach again. I gave a slight shake of my head. "Never mind. I'll pass."

A sharp buzz from the front door intercom shattered the silence. Saved by the bell. I practically sprinted down the hallway, desperately trying to compose my face before yanking the heavy mahogany door open.

A girl stood on the porch. She had her hands tucked casually behind her back, flashing a blinding, high-voltage smile that felt like staring directly into the sun. "Hey there! I'm looking for Roman."

My blood turned to ice.

[Ahhh! It's our girl, Cora!]

[Her smile is literally everything. She's got so much vibrant energyshe and the male lead are literal soulmates.]

[She totally showed up at his house to establish dominance and put this pathetic side character in her place, right?]

Chapter 5

I stared at the glowing words hovering in the air. My feet moved on their own, dragging me two heavy steps backward. "Roman," I called out, my voice lacking any real volume. "Someone's here for you."

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Romans massive frame filled the doorway. He wore a dark, fitted Henley that stretched taut across his chest.

Cora finally brought her hands out from behind her back. She held a pristine, cloud-like memory foam pillow. Deep, adorable dimples carved into her cheeks as her bright smile widened. "I heard you've been having trouble sleeping," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "I picked this out specifically to help."

Romans expression remained an impenetrable mask. He took it. "Thanks."

They continued their easy banter while I stood rooted to the side, reduced to a pathetic spectator in my own home. My legs felt like lead. I couldn't move a single muscle.

[Who else sees Cora's genius move here? A pillow bridges the gap without crossing into weird territory. It targets his exact pain point!]

[Our girl is so thoughtful, but she totally respects boundaries.]

[Wait, doesn't the male lead currently use the pillow the side character bought him? It's about to get replaced.]

[Exactly how it should be! First she replaces her stuff, then she replaces the girl herself.]

My chest caved in on itself. I dropped my gaze, preparing to fade into the background and slip away. But without warning, Cora's bright voice pinned me in place. "You're Roman's girlfriend, right?" Her eyes curved into beautiful half-moons. "You're gorgeous. Oh, I'm Cora, by the way. I'm a huge cat person, too."

My brows knitted together. A huge cat person? Before I could force a single syllable out, Roman stepped directly into my line of sight. With smooth, ruthless efficiency, he cut the conversation short and ushered her out the door.

The heavy mahogany door clicked shut. He immediately strode down the hall and disappeared into the master bedroom. When he reemerged, he was holding a different pillow. The one I bought for him.

Roman handed it to me, his expression perfectly normal. "You don't have a pillow in the guest room," he stated. "Use this." He paused, a muscle feathering along his jawline. "It's comfortable."

I stared at the fabric. A brutal, physical ache splintered through my ribs. I reached out and took it, my fingers gripping the edges tight. "Okay," I choked out.

The floating text nailed it again. Roman swapped my presence in his bed for Coras gift without a second thought. He even pre-planned a sterile excuse to shut down any of my clingy protests. I practically fled back to the bedroom.

Roman knocked on the guest room door twice that afternoon. I deflected his questions with muffled excuses through the heavy wood. Then, the front doorbell chimed again. It was Flynn, dropping off some finalized contracts from our manager.

The door swung open. Flynn was met with Roman's lethal, unwelcoming glare. Roman had his dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins in his forearms. He was in the middle of prepping dinner. "Anya is busy. Hand them to me," Roman ordered, his voice dripping with icy authority. He snatched the manila folder. "If that's it, you can leave. I'm busy. Not every guy is as good at cooking as I am."

Flynn scratched the back of his neck. He peered past Roman's shoulder, a confused smirk playing on his lips. "Does preparing hot pot really require culinary precision?"

Roman's jaw locked. His face grew even darker. He couldn't wait to see the guest out. "Anya and I have private matters to attend to," he gritted out.

The so-called 'private matters' he weaponized were entirely clinical. He just massaged my lower abdomen whenever my cramps flared up.

Dinner came and went. I passed out in the guest room, exhausted by the crushing mental toll of the day. When I woke up, the decision solidified in my chest.

I searched the sprawling house. I finally found Roman in the laundry room. He was standing over the sink, meticulously hand-washing my intimates. A piece of pale pink silk was currently trapped between his rough fingers.

All the blood rushed to my face, burning my cheeks. I crushed the frantic spike in my pulse and shuffled into the room. "Roman," I mumbled, the words heavy and metallic on my tongue. "I want to move out."

Chapter 6

Roman's hands froze in the soapy water. The silence stretched out between us for a long time. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the muscles in his forearms coiled tighter.

He resumed scrubbing the silk fabric, his movements significantly more aggressive. "I thought you were terrified of living alone?" he rasped. He didn't look up. "Is this because" His rough voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat.

I couldn't exactly confess that I had gaslit him into believing my fear in the first place. I kept my chin tucked, mumbling to the floor. "I can learn to get over it."

Roman didn't respond. He just kept methodically washing my intimates. The tension in the laundry room was suffocating.

I shadowed his steps as he moved to the drying rack. My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't untangle the mess in my head. A sick, twisted part of me wanted him to agree so I could finally rip the band-aid off. Another part of me was desperate for him to lock the door and refuse. "Can I?" I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Roman clipped the last piece of fabric to the line. He finally turned to face me. His eyes were pitch-black, a dangerous abyss that swallowed the harsh fluorescent light. A muscle ticked violently along his jaw. "If you're already packing your bags, what do you need a boyfriend for?" he clipped out, his tone dropping to absolute zero. "We might as well just break up right now."

The air vanished from my lungs. I froze, paralyzed by the sheer drop in my chest. Right on cue, the glowing text glitched into existence, pulsing with frantic, vindicated energy.

[Finally! This is what he's actually been thinking all along. He's been dying to dump her!]

[At least the side character finally developed a shred of self-awareness.]

[Leave, leave, leave! Pack your bags and make room for Cora!]

The words break up echoed violently in my skull. I instinctively avoided his gaze, turning around and running back to the guest room.

Behind the locked door, my mind raced. The image of Roman's hands submerged in the water flashed behind my eyelids. The back of his hand had been marked. Three thin, red scratches tracked across his skin. Like a kitten's claws.

We were entirely out of band-aids. The excuse gave me a lifeline. I needed to get out of the house. I needed the cold air to clear the suffocating fog in my brain. Deep down, a pathetic, delusional fragment of my heart still whispered that Roman wasn't the monster the comments claimed he was.

But the universe had a sick sense of humor. Halfway back from the pharmacy, the sky ripped open. A torrential downpour hit without warning. A passing sedan blew through a massive puddle, drenching my jeans in icy, muddy water.

In the chaotic scramble of pedestrians rushing for cover, a shoulder slammed hard into mine. I hit the wet pavement. The rough concrete tore through the denim, scraping my knee raw.

A sharp, burning sting flared up my leg. I bit down on my lip hard enough to taste copper, forcing back the hot tears blurring my vision. I curled my arms protectively around the tiny cardboard box of band-aids, shielding it from the rain, and forced myself to run on the bleeding knee.

Suddenly, the punishing assault of the rain stopped. A massive black umbrella bloomed over my head. I looked up. Roman stood there, his sharp profile carved from marble in the gray light. Looking at my sorry state, he seemed to laugh out of sheer exasperation. "Anya, you've got some serious nerve," he sneered, his words slicing through the heavy rain. "Pulling a disappearing act now?"

My lips parted. I tried to force out an explanation through my chattering teeth.

Roman didn't give me the chance. He shoved the heavy handle of the umbrella against my chest. "Hold this," he commanded.

My frozen fingers clamped around the metal pole. The next second, the ground vanished. Strong arms swept behind my knees and across my back, lifting me effortlessly into the air. He held me tight against his solid chest.

Panic spiked my pulse. I squirmed against his iron grip. "Roman, put me down. I can walk."

He completely ignored the protest. He carried me steadily all the way to the SUV, putting me into the passenger seat.

Back at the house, the storm inside was worse than the one outside. Roman dragged a hand through his dripping, jet-black hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He stood towering over me, every muscle in his massive frame coiled tight, radiating a dangerous, barely suppressed fury.

"You want to move out that badly?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal gravel. "Did you even think about where you were going to live? What you were going to do with all your shit? Did it even cross your mind that disappearing without a single text might make someone worry?"

He stepped closer, invading my space. "Even if you're dead set on leaving," he gritted out, the anger in his voice fracturing slightly, "you should at least prepare for it first."

I kept my head bowed. I stared at the dark hardwood floor, letting his anger wash over me. Slowly, my trembling hands reached into my soaked jacket. I pulled out the tiny, pristine box of band-aids. Not a single drop of rain had touched it.

"Roman," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I wasn't leaving." I held the box out to him. "I saw your hand was bleeding. I just went out to buy you these."

Chapter 7

Meeting my sincere gaze, his pupils trembled violently. His Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow. He ripped his gaze away, his jaw clenching tight as he brutally forced a subject change.

"You're drenched," he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. "I'm giving you a bath." He left zero room for argument. He swept me up and carried me straight to the master bathroom, lowering me gently into the massive tub.

Thick, heavy steam choked the air. I hooked one calf over the edge of the cold porcelain. The scalding water swallowed the rest of my shivering body.

Romans eyes darkened to an absolute, dangerous pitch. His large, callused hands plunged into the water, peeling the ruined, muddy fabric away from my skin piece by piece. His knuckles grazed my thigh as he reached for my underwear.

Panic and adrenaline spiked my pulse. I clamped my fingers over his thick wrist. "I can do the rest," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Get out."

Romans dark brows snapped together. His intense stare dropped to the raw, bleeding scrape on my knee. "Your knee is scraped raw. Keep it out of the water."

"I'll be careful," I pushed back, refusing to let go of his wrist.

Roman didn't budge. "Then I'll wash your legs."

I completely lost track of who crossed the line first. My brain short-circuited into a dizzying, overloaded haze. Roman dragged a thick towel over my trembling skin and carried me directly to the massive king bed.

The tension between us shifted entirely. Every millimeter of skin his rough calluses dragged across erupted into violent shivers. He leaned in, the scorching heat of his breath grazing my cheek. He kissed my eyelids, his warm breath tickling my face.

Then, the glowing text glitched back into the air, instantly suffocating the tension in the room.

[Ahhh! How can the male lead sleep with the side character? He's tainted now!]

[Don't tell me she actually thinks he likes her? Please. Guys just have physical needs, okay?]

[Called it. She totally played the 'moving out' card just to trap him in bed.]

This time, I refused to let the comments gaslight me. We had too much unsaid history suffocating us. I tilted my chin up and pressed my lips directly against his bobbing Adam's apple, effectively freezing his descent.

"Roman," I breathed out, staring directly into his dark eyes. "Are you doing this because you actually want me, or am I just here to satisfy your physical needs?"

Roman froze. The heavy muscles in his arms locked. A low, dark chuckle vibrated deep in his chest. He looked down at me, his gaze scorching hot. "Anya. I have hands." He leaned closer, the heat of his skin completely enveloping me. "And there are a million other ways to take care of my needs. I"

A shrill ringtone violently ripped through the quiet room. Roman clicked his tongue, a harsh, irritated sound tearing from his throat. He snatched the phone off the nightstand. After hearing whatever was said on the other end, Roman's expression instantly changed.

He killed the call and immediately started shoving his arms back into his shirt. "Emergency at the office," he clipped out, his movements ruthlessly efficient. "A fire in the archives destroyed some critical contracts. I have to go."

I gripped the hem of his wrinkled shirt. My throat constricted, choking off my oxygen. Right before he grabbed the phone, the caller ID had flashed across the screen. Cora.

Roman entirely misread my death grip. He leaned down and pressed a rushed, distracted kiss against my hairline. "Be good. I'll be back as fast as I can."

The heavy front door slammed shut seconds later. I sat alone in the center of the massive bed, staring blindly into the empty, suffocating shadows of the room.

[She is so delusional. She really thought he wanted her.]

[He belongs to Cora! The second he heard our girl was in danger, he dropped everything. Nobody breaks up the official couple!]

[Is she seriously still going to cling to him after this?]

[If I were her, I'd pack my bags right now. Dragging this out is just pathetic.]

Dragging this out is just pathetic. I had spent weeks testing the waters, desperately searching for a single scrap of proof that he actually cared. He never gave me a straight answer. I didn't want to test the waters anymore, and I didn't want to cling to him anymore.

That exact night. Hours before Roman ever set foot back in the house. I shoved my entire life into two suitcases and walked out the door for good.

Chapter 8