Catching His Runaway Girl

Want to know a secret? the class president whispered, leaning close. Roman had a massive crush on you.

Roman. As in, the A-list superstar. The guy whose cold, untouchable face stared down from every billboard in the city.

Eight years ago, I bombed my college applications. I nuked my old social media accounts, blocked every number in my phone, and ghosted the entire world. A total coward's exit.

I dug through the bottom of a cardboard box in my closet. My fingers brushed against the cracked screen of my old phone, a thick layer of dust coating the case.

I plugged the cord in. The screen flickered to life.

A single unread text from eight years ago popped up on the display.

[ What college are you going to? Can I come with you? ]

My nails bit hard into my palm until the skin went numb. When I hit block all those years ago, I hadn't just erased my past.

I erased him.

Chapter 1

The sun beat down, baking my skull until my vision swam. Heat waves shimmered off the gridlocked asphalt. Not wanting to risk being late, I ditched the stalled cab and sprinted the last mile to the airport terminal.

Thirty minutes until Romans flight touched down.

Our agency had dropped a small fortune to land him. He was a massive A-list superstar, the kind who broke the internet just by breathing.

He was also my high school classmate.

Then came the high school reunion two days ago. The class president had leaned in, vodka on her breath, and whispered, "Want to know a secret? Roman had a massive crush on you."

My chest had tightened, a weird flutter knocking against my ribs before I forced out a laugh. "Roman? Crushing on me? Right."

"And I'm the Queen of England. Do you know how many rabid stans he has? I'd be doxxed and destroyed by morning."

Anyone else, maybe. But not him. We ran in completely different circles, and honestly, I was pretty sure he couldn't stand me back then.

Fast forward to now, and Roman dominated every streaming chart and social media trend. Zero scandals, zero paparazzi drama. Every luxury brand wanted a piece of him, but he was notoriously picky, sticking purely to acting and rejecting every endorsement deal that crossed his desk. That was why his sudden yes to our agencys campaign pitch had sent shockwaves through the entire industry.

Massive PR firms had practically begged to represent him, yet he handpicked us.

Our boss, Mitchell, was so hyped he kept us hostage in the conference room for three straight all-nighters. And somehow, through some twisted stroke of luck, the job of personally fetching Roman from the airport landed squarely in my lap.

Mitchell had clamped a heavy hand on my shoulder, looking at me like the fate of the free world rested in my hands. "Thea, you treat this man like royalty. Whatever Roman wants, Roman gets. Make him feel like this agency is his second home."

I gave him a crisp nod. "You got it, boss. I'll roll out the red carpet."

Big words, but my stomach was currently tying itself into a double knot. If my memory served right, we barely exchanged two words in high school. Frankly, just breathing the same air as him made my stomach knot. He had this intense, dangerous aura that screamed keep away.

He was the quiet guy who lounged in the back row, jaw resting on his knuckles, detached from the high school drama. I still remembered those pitch-black eyes and that sharp jawline. Whenever his gaze swept over the room, it was devoid of warmth.

I pushed through the sliding glass doors of the arrivals terminal and checked my phone. Perfect timing.

But my relief evaporated. The terminal was a madhouse. A sea of screaming fans packed every square inch of the floor.

Before I could even process the chaos, an ear-piercing shriek ripped through the crowd.

"He's here! Roman!"

"Oh my god, he's even more gorgeous in person!"

"He looked at me! I swear to god he looked right at me!"

I let out a slow breath. The hype was definitely real.

Not that it was anything new. He had the same magnetic pull back in high school. Even when he walked around with a permanent scowl, looking like the world owed him a million bucks, people couldn't look away. He just had one of those facessculpted by the gods and impossible to ignore.

I wasn't immune to it back then, either. But every time my eyes accidentally drifted his way, hed immediately look away, a slight crease forming between his brows. After catching that subtle look of annoyance a few times, I took the hint and stopped looking.

A girl had to have some self-awareness, after all.

Chapter 2

Back in high school, I was the class academic rep, which was just a polite way of saying I was a try-hard who buried her nose in textbooks. Growing up, the main soundtrack to my life was a constant lecture: Thea, you have to work harder than everyone else. We don't have connections or trust funds. Busting your ass academically is your only shot at competing with the kids who were born on third base.

My classmates constantly whispered about the boring bookworm behind my back, which only solidified my theory: a guy like Roman was practically genetically engineered to despise girls like me.

The piercing shrieks around me cut off, snapping me out of my head.

A tall shadow fell over me. I blinked and looked up. The devastatingly handsome face hovering in front of me perfectly synced with my eight-year-old memories, only the reckless, sharp edges of his teenage years had smoothed out into a quiet, untouchable kind of power.

Flanked by a wall of security and handlers, Roman looked unfazed by the mob. He casually extended a hand toward me. His deep, cool voice cut straight through the lingering buzz of the crowd. "Hi. I'm Roman."

I hesitated before lifting my hand. Of course he doesn't remember me, I thought. I was practically invisible back then.

But the second our palms connected, the corner of Roman's mouth ticked upward in a faint, barely-there smirk. His large hand engulfed mine, the heat of his skin sending a sharp jolt up my arm.

Roman was notorious for giving the cameras absolutely nothing, so that micro-expression was enough to send the surrounding crowd into an absolute meltdown. A frenzy of screams and rapid-fire camera shutters erupted around us.

Yet, over the deafening noise, his low murmur landed perfectly next to my ear.

"Thea. Long time no see."

That slow, lazy drawl made my breath hitch. I blamed the brutal heat for the sudden, intense burning in my cheeks.

I pulled my hand back and wiped a bead of sweat from my temple, forcing my spine straight. "Long time no see. I'm the liaison sent by the agency to pick you up."

We stepped out of the terminal, only to find the luxury SUV Mitchell had booked was still trapped in airport traffic. The sun was absolutely blinding, forcing me to squint against the glare.

Without a word, Roman took a half-step forward. His broad shoulders neatly intercepted the harsh rays, casting a cool, protective shadow right over my head.

I shot him a quick glance, but his profile remained unreadable. I had to admit, he had evolved. The arrogant, untouchable high schooler had vanished, replaced by someone incredibly grounded.

By the time we finally navigated back to the agency, Aria and her entourage had already taken over the main conference room.

Ariathe undisputed 'It Girl' of the current entertainment cycle.

The second Roman walked through the glass doors, Aria sprang from her chair, greeting him with the effortless ease of an old friend. They had co-starred in three massive projects together. Even though none of them were romances, the internet relentlessly shipped them, churning out fan-edits by the millions.

And now, they were teaming up again as the dual faces of our flagship fragrance campaign. Watching them chat by the whiteboard, bathed in the fluorescent lights, I swallowed hard. I had to hand it to themthey looked obnoxiously perfect together.

Once everyone settled, Mitchell called the room to order.

We suffered through the mandatory corporate pleasantries before Roman suddenly cut in. "Mitchell," he said, his voice flat and authoritative. "My personal assistant took an unexpected leave of absence. I need someone from your team to step in and handle my day-to-day while we shoot."

Since Roman was the undisputed golden goose, denying him was off the table. Mitchell scanned the long conference table like a predator looking for easy prey.

His gaze stopped, locking dead onto mine.

Chapter 3

The air in the room thinned. Oh God. Mitchell, please no.

I stared dead at my boss, eyes wide, shaking my head a fraction of an inch. Do not even think about it.

Mitchell ignored my silent begging. He leveled his pen right at my chest.

"Then it's settled. Thea will step in. I hear you two actually went to the same high school, so you should already have a solid rapport."

Rapport, my ass. We practically never spoke. A sudden, visceral flash of that dark alleyway back in high schoolthe terrifying, brutal things I'd seen him doslammed into the forefront of my brain.

I shoved myself up, my palms cracking against the heavy mahogany of the conference table. The sound echoed like a gunshot. "I'm not qualified."

Roman slowly lifted his gaze. His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine, a heavy, suffocating kind of danger swimming in his pupils. "Why?"

Every head in the room swiveled toward me. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and forced my chin up. "A star of your caliber needs a seasoned Hollywood handler, not a low-level desk jockey. I'd drag the whole production down."

I dropped back into my chair, my knees giving out. The conference room went dead silent. Every eye shifted back to the apex predator at the head of the table.

Roman leaned back into the leather of his chair, the movement slow and deliberate. His long, calloused fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the polished wood.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Mitchell," he said, his voice dropping into a deadly calm drawl. "I'm a nostalgic guy. I prefer the company of old friends. If your agency can't accommodate a simple request, we can shred the contracts right now."

The threat was directed at Mitchell, but Romans dark, unblinking stare never left my face. The heat of his gaze pinned me straight to my seat, making my skin prickle.

Mitchell, instantly tossing me to the wolves to save his million-dollar deal, practically tripped over himself to appease the star. "Absolutely, Roman. Its an absolute honor for Thea to step up.

"Shes just playing humble, I swear. Shes a killer employee. She'll bend over backward to make sure you feel right at home here."

The meeting adjourned. Roman didn't shift an inch from his chair. I kept my head down, trying to melt into the crowd of exiting executives and slip through the glass doors unnoticed.

I was inches from freedom when a large, warm hand clamped down hard around my wrist.

"We shared a homeroom for three years, Thea," his deep voice vibrated, the sound hitting the back of my neck. "Are you really that desperate to scrub me from your life?"

"You dodged me like I carried the black plague back then. But we aren't teenagers anymore." His thumb stroked a slow, agonizing circle against my pulse point. "Tell me why."

I jerked backward, my heart slamming against my ribs. There are a dozen people right outside that door. One leaked photo of this and Im public enemy number one on Twitter.

But Roman wasn't letting go. He closed the gap between us, stepping so far into my personal space that I could smell the sharp, expensive cedar of his cologne.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Well?" His voice dropped an octave, a rough, gravelly hum vibrating against my skin. "Talk to me, old friend."

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my face away, my breathing turning shallow and fractured. I didn't even need a mirror to know my face was currently burning hotter than the surface of the sun.

Catching my panic, Roman let out a rough, dismissive click of his tongue. The hand holding my wrist released me, only to slide up my arm and wrap around the back of my neck. The heavy, freezing metal of his luxury watch pressed directly against my sensitive skin, sending a violent shiver straight down my spine. I jerked under his grip, flustered, and snapped my head up to glare at him.

The playful smirk vanished. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked rapidly near his temple, his dark eyes practically swallowing me whole.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath ghosting across my cheek. "Your boss gave you an order. You're supposed to bend over backward and make me feel right at home."

His grip on my neck tightened just a fraction. "Don't disappoint me, Thea."

Chapter 4

Id always been the type to bow my head and take whatever life threw at me. After bombing my SATs and scraping my way through a no-name state college, landing a job at a powerhouse agency like this one was pure, unfiltered dumb luck.

To protect my paycheck, I plastered on the most obedient, saccharine smile I could muster. "Of course, Roman. I will bend over backward to make sure you feel right at home. It's an absolute honor to be your assistant."

I forced myself to hold his gaze. We were standing dangerously close, the space between us practically non-existent.

Roman broke eye contact, his jaw shifting as he looked away. "Right. It's not like I specifically needed you, but we go way back. It's better to work with a familiar face."

I nodded like a bobblehead, but my fingernails were digging into my palms. Familiar face? We barely exchanged two words in high school.

Every time we accidentally locked eyes, hed scowl at me. I knew nothing about the guy.

Still, if I was going to be his personal shadow, I had to memorize his every quirk and habit. I stayed late at the office, drowning in a mountain of his PR files and rider demands.

By the time I finally hit save, the city skyline was pitch black.

I shut down my monitor and grabbed my bag. As I hurried down the deserted hallway, a familiar silhouette near the elevators made me freeze.

It was Roman.

He was leaning against the wall in the dim emergency lighting. An unlit cigarette hung between his lips. The heavy metallic clink of his Zippo echoed in the quiet corridor, the silver casing catching the faint light. He kept checking his phone, the harsh blue glow from the screen illuminating the sharp angles of his face and making his expression unreadable.

I cleared my throat. "Roman?"

He whipped his head around. His hand instinctively crushed the cigarette into his palm before dropping it into a nearby trash can. "Just clocking out?"

I nodded. "Why are you still here?"

He shifted his weight, looking unnaturally stiff. "Oh. Your agency has a massive layout. Lost track of time checking out the space."

A total bullshit excuse. You'd have to be brain-dead to buy that. But I definitely wasn't going to call him out on it. "Right. It is a pretty big building."

Dead silence dropped between us. I kept my face blank, while my fingernails dug a hole straight through the leather strap of my purse.

The awkwardness was suffocating. Say something. Anything.

Finally, Roman broke the quiet. "Heading home? I'll give you a ride."

I waved my hands, my voice pitching up an octave. "No! I mean, no need. I'm just going to grab an Uber downstairs. Don't worry about it."

Roman let out a low chuckle. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, and physically steered me toward the elevator.

"We're old friends, Thea. It's zero trouble. Don't overthink it. I have the car waiting, and it's on my way."

And just like that, I found myself strapped into the passenger seat of Roman's ridiculous sports car. It was my first time sitting on leather that probably cost more than my college tuition.

Except, I hadn't even given him my address yet.

Roman didn't even ask. He just fired up the engine and merged directly into traffic, taking the exact turns toward my apartment complex.

He nailed the route perfectly. The sleek car glided to a smooth stop right in front of my rundown building.

I opened my mouth to ask how the hell he knew where I lived, but Roman beat me to the punch.

"Thea."

"Uh, yeah?"

Roman didn't look at me. His eyes were locked dead ahead through the windshield. His knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel, like he was bracing himself for impact.

"Do you still use that old phone number?"

I frowned, thrown off. "Which number?"

"The one you wrote down in the senior yearbook." Roman finally turned to look at me. A tight, undeniable tension simmered just beneath the surface of his pitch-black eyes.

I shook my head. "No. After I got my SAT scores back, I dropped off the grid. I changed my number and chucked the old phone in a box."

The second the words left my mouth, the rigid line of Roman's shoulders instantly dropped. He exhaled a long, heavy breath, muttering under his breath.

"So you just tossed the phone. You weren't deliberately"

Chapter 5

"Huh?" I frowned, lost. "What?"

Roman stared at me, the amusement in his dark eyes impossible to hide. "Thea. I was originally planning on taking this slow.

"But I'm officially out of patience. We're adults. Beating around the bush is a waste of time."

My brain short-circuited. "Roman, what the hell are you talking about?"

Roman leaned back against the leather seat, the picture of lazy arrogance. "Boot up your old account when you get home. You'll figure it out