Chapter 5

EVE

I stepped out of the ladies' room, fixing my lipstick in the reflection of my phone screen, still half-distracted by my thoughts, when I froze.

Roman.

Leaning casually against the wall opposite the door, hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly tilted like he'd been waiting.

My stomach dropped.

What the hell was he doing here?

For a second, neither of us moved. The hallway was quiet, too quiet, like the entire restaurant had faded away, leaving just us and the thick, tense air between us.

He straightened slowly when our eyes locked. God. That suit. Black, sharp, cut to his frame like it had been made for him. And his tie was loose, like he'd tugged on it earlier in frustration. He shouldn't have looked this good. Not when my sanity was already hanging by a thread tonight.

"Eve," he said, low, smooth.

I swallowed, forcing my expression into something neutral. "Roman."

That faint, infuriating smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, like he knew I was trying too hard to look unaffected.

"You don't want to look at me?" he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with something heavier.

My fingers tightened around my phone. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pushed off the wall and started toward me…slow, deliberate, like every step was a decision he'd already made. I should've moved. I didn't.

My chest rose and fell faster, but on the outside, I kept my face flat. Detached.

"You disappeared," he said finally, closing the distance between us, his voice rougher now. "I noticed."

"That's creepy," I said dryly, trying to step around him, but he shifted subtly, blocking my path without touching me.

"That's observant," he countered softly, his eyes locking on mine. "You look…" He hesitated, just enough to make my stomach twist. Then, lower: "…breathtaking."

My heart skipped.

I hated the way my body reacted before my brain caught up. The heat curling low in my chest, the flutter in my stomach, the sharp awareness of just how close he was.

"Roman…" I tried to sound unimpressed, but it came out weaker than I wanted.

He leaned in slightly, close enough that I caught the faint, clean scent of his cologne. Expensive. Subtle. Dangerous.

"I couldn't take my eyes off you," he said softly, quietly.

My breath hitched before I could stop it.

He noticed.

His hand lifted, slow, deliberate, giving me every chance to step back, but I didn't. His fingertips brushed along my jawline, featherlight, barely there, before trailing down toward my chin.

The warmth of his touch set my skin on fire.

I stiffened instantly, my entire body tensing, and whispered, "Roman… you should respect yourself."

For a moment, silence hung between us, thick and suffocating. Neither of us breathed. Neither of us moved.

Then, just like that, something shifted in his expression. His jaw tightened, his hand falling back to his side like he'd just remembered where we were, who we were.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, his voice rougher now, deeper. And before I could say anything, he turned and walked away.

No glance back. No hesitation.

And I just stood there.

My back hit the wall as I leaned against it, trying to catch my breath like the hallway had stolen all the air.

What the hell was that?

I pressed my palms against the cool surface, grounding myself, but my pulse was still racing like I'd just sprinted a mile.

This couldn't happen. Whatever that was, whatever just passed between us, it couldn't happen. Roman wasn't mine. He wasn't supposed to be mine.

Courtney's fiancé.

I whispered it in my head like it was supposed to mean something, supposed to snap me back into control. But it didn't stop the heat that still lingered on my skin where he'd touched me.

Pathetic. That's what this was.

I pushed myself off the wall and ducked back into the restroom, gripping the edges of the sink like it could hold me together. My reflection stared back at me…flushed cheeks, wide eyes, lips parted like I'd just been caught doing something wrong.

"This is nothing," I muttered under my breath, leaning closer to the mirror. "It's nothing."

I splashed water on my face, ignoring the sting when droplets hit the edges of my freshly applied makeup. I had to calm down. I had to look normal.

My hands trembled slightly as I dabbed at my lipstick, fixing the edges with practiced precision. Perfect. Controlled. Like nothing had touched me, like nothing had shifted inside me.

I inhaled deeply, willing my heartbeat to slow.

"I don't want him," I whispered to my reflection, like saying it enough times would make it true.

But my body disagreed.

I could still feel him. The ghost of his fingertips along my jaw, the rasp of his voice in my ear, the way his presence had swallowed the entire hallway like gravity.

My chest ached, and I hated that it did.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to make me feel anything. And yet, in the span of five stolen minutes, he'd managed to get under my skin in a way I couldn't shake off.

I closed my eyes, forcing one last steadying breath before squaring my shoulders.

Neutral face. Neutral thoughts. Back to the table like nothing happened.

I pushed open the restroom door and stepped back into the hallway, ignoring the lingering phantom of him. My heels clicked softly against the tiles, each step a silent reminder: control, Eve.

When I got back to the table, it was like nothing had happened.

Courtney was mid-story, laughing loudly, tossing her hair like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial. My mother was sipping her wine slowly, nodding in polite intervals. Roman sat beside Courtney, perfectly composed, perfectly still…like the man in the hallway had never existed.

I slid back into my chair and forced my shoulders to relax, praying my face didn't betray anything.

"Eve," my mother said softly, touching my hand. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," I lied smoothly, picking up my glass. "Just fixed my lipstick."

Roman didn't look at me. Not once.

I told myself I was relieved, but that was a lie, too. Because even without his eyes on me, I felt him. I felt the restraint radiating off him like heat, and it made the air between us heavier than it should have been.

I kept my focus on my plate, trying to look busy cutting my steak, but my ears refused to ignore Courtney's voice.

"…and then I told the planner, absolutely not, we're not doing roses at the reception. Everyone does roses. We're going modern, calla lilies, orchids, maybe peonies if they're in season. It has to look expensive," she said, emphasizing the last word.

Roman nodded faintly, murmuring something polite without enthusiasm, his fingers resting against the stem of his wine glass. I watched him from the corner of my eye, careful, quiet. He moved with such control it was infuriating, like he'd taught his body the art of indifference.

And yet…

When I took a slow sip of my wine, pretending to listen to Courtney debate napkin fabrics, his gaze lifted.

It was quick. A flash. But I caught it.

The burn slid right down my throat, and suddenly the wine wasn't enough to steady me.

I set my glass down carefully, pretending not to notice him, pretending I wasn't suffocating beneath the weight of a look he wasn't supposed to give me.

Then Courtney's laugh exploded across the table. I jumped slightly, dragging my attention back just as she leaned over and placed her perfectly manicured hand on Roman's.

"Babe, tell her," she said, nudging him. "Tell her how insane the planner was being about the guest list."

Roman smiled... "It's fine now," he said simply, his voice steady, controlled, giving her exactly what she wanted without actually giving her anything.

I looked away, pretending to reach for my napkin, forcing my face to stay neutral while something sharp twisted in my chest.

Then, because my mouth had a death wish, I muttered under my breath, "God forbid the orchids clash with the peonies."

I didn't think anyone heard me, except that I caught it.

That smirk. Small. Sharp. Just there for half a second before he masked it with another sip of his wine.

Dinner dragged on, full of Courtney's animated wedding plans, my mother's polite hums, and Roman's occasional, carefully rationed responses. He was an expert at saying nothing while sounding agreeable. I envied it.

Meanwhile, I was drowning silently in the awareness of him. Every stolen glance, every near-brush when we reached for the breadbasket, every moment where the weight of the hallway scene pressed back against my ribs like a secret no one else could see.

By the time dessert came, I was restless. My plate barely touched. My stomach twisted in knots I didn't want to name.

Finally… mercifully, the check came.

Outside, the night air hit me like a lifeline, cool and crisp against my flushed skin. I lingered behind with my mother, letting Courtney and Roman lead the way toward the cars.

Courtney looped her arm through his easily, leaning into him, glowing with that effortless confidence she. Roman glanced down at her, nodded at something she said, and for anyone else watching, they looked perfect.

But I'd seen him in the hallway.

I'd felt him.

And the perfection felt like a lie now.

I kept my gaze fixed on the pavement, counting my steps, willing myself not to look at him again. It was ridiculous. Pathetic. Self-preservation, really.

Then, Roman slowed. He reached for the passenger-side door of Courtney's car and held it open for her, the gentleman everyone believed he was. Courtney laughed, kissed his cheek, and slid inside.

And just as he straightened, his eyes found mine.

One heartbeat.

Two.

It was too long.

That look… sharp, hungry, restrained cut through the cool night air.

I looked away instantly, heat crawling up my neck, gripping the strap of my purse tighter as I headed for my own car. My chest felt too tight, my lungs too shallow.

Behind me, I heard the low hum of an engine starting, Courtney's laughter muffled through the closed car door.

I pulled open my own door and slid inside, waiting for my mother.

Silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the sound of my mother fastening her seatbelt.

Then she gave me a sharp side-eye, her voice soft but cutting.

"You could have at least hidden how much you wanted him."

My head snapped toward her, breath catching. "Excuse me?"

She raised an eyebrow, unfazed, like she was talking about the weather. "You think I didn't see it? The way you kept looking at him? It was embarrassing, Eve."

Mortification crawled up my throat, choking me, but no words came out.