Chapter 4

ROMAN

I regretted agreeing to this dinner the second we left the house.

Courtney had been silent for the first ten minutes of the drive, scrolling through her phone like she was punishing me with her quiet. I thought maybe, just maybe, I'd dodged a fight tonight.

Then she slammed her phone onto her lap and turned to me with fire in her eyes.

"Why don't you ever show me off, Roman?"

I glanced at her briefly before focusing back on the road. "We're literally on our way to dinner, Courtney."

"You know that's not what I mean," she snapped. "I post pictures of us, I talk about us, and you…God forbid anyone even knows you're engaged!"

I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "Not everything has to be for the internet."

She scoffed. "Right, of course. The mysterious Roman Saint James. Too private for Instagram, too private for life. Do you know how ridiculous it makes me look?"

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. We'd had this fight before. Hell, we'd had this fight a hundred times. Same words, same accusations, looping until they were just white noise in my head.

"Courtney," I said calmly, keeping my tone even, "we don't have to do this tonight."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't care about how this looks. I'm the one who looks like an idiot dating a man who treats me like a secret!"

I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled sharply. "I don't treat you like a secret."

"You do!" she fired back. "I'm supposed to be your fiancée, Roman. Do you even want to marry me? Or am I just… convenient?"

That one landed hard. I didn't answer right away. Maybe that was my mistake, because the silence only seemed to feed her frustration.

Her voice cracked when she added softly, "You make me feel invisible."

Something in my chest twisted, but I swallowed it down and said quietly, "That's not what I want."

"Then why does it feel like it?" she demanded.

I didn't have an answer she'd accept, so I didn't give one. Instead, I let the silence stretch until the soft hum of the engine was the only sound.

Courtney shifted in her seat with an exaggerated sigh, folding her arms like she was wrapping herself in armor.

I stared out the windshield, jaw tight, counting the seconds until we got there. If I'd known dinner would start like this, I would've driven separately. Hell, I would've walked.

By the time we pulled up to the restaurant, she was still fuming, scrolling on her phone again, tapping the screen harder than necessary. I killed the engine and leaned back in my seat for a moment, closing my eyes. I could already feel the headache brewing.

"Ready?" I asked finally.

She shot me a look that said no, but she unbuckled anyway. "Just… try tonight, Roman. Please."

I nodded wordlessly and got out of the car.

Inside, the restaurant was warm and elegant, with soft golden lights, hushed laughter, and the clinking of wine glasses. I spotted her mother waving us over, and I plastered on a polite smile as we made our way to the table.

And then I saw her.

Eve.

She was standing behind her mother, and for a second, the entire room seemed to tilt.

Her dress was a deep wine-red, the kind of color that demanded attention without asking for it. The neckline was modest, but somehow still devastating. Her hair was sleek, falling perfectly around her shoulders, her jewelry minimal. Her bare skin glowed under the soft lighting, and my breath caught without warning.

I wanted to touch her. Feel her body against mine. Bury my hands in her hair. Kiss her until she forgets her own name.

My chest tightened, and I hated it.

I didn't know her. I wasn't supposed to feel… whatever this was. But my gaze locked on her like gravity, refusing to let go.

She followed her mother to the table, and for the briefest moment, her eyes met mine.

It was nothing. A second. Maybe less.

But God, it felt longer.

Something shifted in my chest…sharp, restless, alive.

I forced myself to look away, forcing air into my lungs, forcing my heartbeat to slow. It didn't work.

Courtney noticed. Of course, she noticed.

Her hand tightened around my arm as we sat down, nails pressing lightly into my sleeve, a silent warning I didn't acknowledge.

"Roman," her mother said warmly, oblivious to the tension already swirling around the table. "So glad you could make it."

"Of course," I replied smoothly, slipping into my well-practiced charm. "Wouldn't miss it."

Eve sat across from me, and I told myself not to look. I told myself to focus on the menu, on the wine list, on literally anything else.

I failed.

She wasn't doing anything, just sitting there, quiet, letting her mother do the talking. But there was something about her stillness that drew me in. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly, and I caught myself wondering how they'd feel soft, delicate, wrapped around me.

I clenched my jaw and stared down at the menu like it was a lifeline.

When the waiter came by, Courtney ordered first, making sure everyone knew she had expensive tastes. I murmured my own order and handed back the menu without looking up.

And then I heard Eve's voice for the first time.

She ordered something simple, nothing flashy, and somehow, that made me want to hear her speak again.

The sound hit me somewhere deep, curling low in my chest.

I took a sip of my drink to distract myself, ignoring the heat prickling at the back of my neck.

The longer I watched, the more obvious it became that she didn't belong here.

And maybe I stared a little too long, because suddenly I was speaking before my brain caught up.

"How come I've never seen you before?"

Her fork paused mid-air, and she blinked like she hadn't expected me to speak to her. She opened her mouth, ready to answer, but Courtney beat her to it.

"Oh, she was in rehab, remember?"

It was so casual, like she was pointing out that Eve had gone on vacation.

The air went tight.

Eve froze. Her knuckles whitened around her fork, but her face stayed maddeningly calm, like she'd been here before, humiliated without warning.

My gaze flicked to her, and for the first time tonight, I saw the crack beneath the cool exterior. Shadows.

I hated that Courtney said it like that. I hated that she looked so damn pleased with herself after.

Eve recovered fast, lowering her fork and reaching for her water without a word.

I didn't know what I expected, but the sting in my chest surprised me. For some reason, I wanted to defend her.

The silence stretched until Eve finally turned her head and met my stare.

"You gonna stare all night, or what?"

I blinked. Then, before I could stop myself, I smiled.

"Sorry."

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"Good." And just like that, she looked away, breaking whatever fragile thing had sparked between us.

But I kept stealing glances. I couldn't help it.

I wasn't judging her. Hell, if anything, I admired her. She sat there holding herself together while Courtney tried to tear her apart, and that kind of quiet strength had always fascinated me.

The rest of dinner blurred into meaningless chatter.

Courtney laughed loudly at something her mother said, her hand brushing my arm like she wanted the whole restaurant to know I belonged to her. I tuned most of it out, focusing on Eve instead, though I tried to be subtle about it.

She avoided looking at me. Every time I thought her gaze might drift my way, she turned her head, fussed with her napkin, and sipped her water. And yet, I could see it in the tension of her shoulders, the faint flush at the base of her neck; she felt it too.

A few minutes later, she excused herself to the restroom without a word to anyone.

I watched her go, telling myself to stay put. She probably wanted space, and I wasn't the kind of guy who went chasing after girls in restaurants. But then five minutes turned into ten, and she still hadn't come back.

Something in my chest shifted.

I pushed back my chair, ignoring Courtney's questioning glance.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

"Taking a call," I said smoothly, flashing the faintest smile before walking out.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was dim and quiet compared to the noisy dining area. My footsteps slowed as I approached the ladies' room, unsure what I was even doing.