21. Roman #2
"With respect, Roman," Jenkins interjects, "the appearance of impropriety?—"
"Is precisely what Maxwell Grant hopes to create," I finish for him. "This press release is a calculated move to destabilize Elysian during Lumière's relaunch and to undermine Ms. Monroe's professional standing. I'm disappointed that this board would assist him in that effort."
A murmur runs around the table at my directness. I continue before anyone can interrupt.
"I've provided each of you with documentation of Ms. Monroe's qualifications, her leadership of the Lumière rebranding, and the market response to her creative direction.
By every metric, she has exceeded expectations in her role.
Her personal relationship with me began after her hiring and has no bearing on her professional contributions to this company. "
Whitaker leans forward. "While I appreciate the documentation, Roman, the concern remains. Did you disclose this relationship to the board when it began?"
"No," I admit, seeing no point in evasion. "Because initially, there was nothing to disclose. When our relationship evolved into something significant, I should have informed the board. That was an oversight on my part."
"An oversight," Powell repeats skeptically. "And now we learn about it from industry rumors and veiled accusations from our competitors."
"You're learning about it directly from me, today," I counter. "Grant's press release pushed the timeline, but this conversation was inevitable."
"And what exactly is the nature of this relationship?" another board member asks. "Is it serious or... temporary?"
The question borders on inappropriate, but I recognize the underlying concern. They want to know if this is a passing indiscretion or something that could have long-term implications for the company.
I consider my words carefully. Cassie and I haven't discussed how public to make her pregnancy, and I won't make that decision unilaterally. But I can be clear about my commitment.
"My relationship with Ms. Monroe is the most significant personal relationship of my life. It is neither casual nor temporary."
The straightforwardness of my answer seems to catch them off guard. They expected corporate deflection, carefully worded non-answers. Instead, I've given them unvarnished truth—a rarity in boardrooms.
Whitaker breaks the silence. "What do you propose as a path forward, Roman? The board has governance responsibilities we can't ignore."
"I propose transparency and appropriate management of potential conflicts.
" I slide a document toward the center of the table.
"I've outlined a governance framework that maintains Ms. Monroe's reporting line through the Chief Creative Officer rather than directly to me, establishes an independent review committee for Lumière's budget and strategic decisions, and implements clear recusal protocols for situations where conflicts might arise. "
The board members exchange glances, clearly surprised by my preparedness. Powell picks up the document, scanning it with raised eyebrows.
"This is... comprehensive," she admits reluctantly.
"I value this company and its reputation," I say. "I also value my personal life. I believe both can coexist with proper guardrails."
"And if we find this solution insufficient?" Jenkins asks, a clear challenge in his voice.
I meet his gaze steadily. "Then we have a different conversation. But I would remind everyone that Elysian's success has been built on my leadership for the past decade. The market recognizes that, even if temporarily distracted by Grant's theatrics."
The implication is clear: Push too hard, and I might walk. It's not a threat I make lightly, or one I particularly want to follow through on, but it establishes the stakes.
The room falls silent as the board absorbs this. Finally, Whitaker speaks.
"I move that we review Roman's proposed framework and reconvene in one week with any modifications or concerns.
" He looks around the table. "In the meantime, I suggest we issue a statement affirming our confidence in both Mr. Kade's leadership and Ms. Monroe's professional contributions to Elysian. "
The motion passes with only Jenkins and one other member abstaining. As the meeting adjourns, I maintain my composed exterior while relief washes through me. Round one, survived. But this is just the beginning.
Whitaker hangs back as the others file out, waiting until we're alone before speaking.
"That was well handled," he says. "But Grant won't stop here."
"I know."
"Is there anything else I should know? Anything that might blindside us down the road?"
I think of Cassie's appointment today, of the sonogram images waiting for me. Of how our lives will transform in seven months when a child enters the world.
"Not at this time," I say carefully. "But I appreciate the question."
Whitaker studies me for a moment, then nods. "Take care, Roman. Both professionally and personally."
I return to my office, sending Zara home early and clearing my schedule for the evening. For once, business can wait. Tonight belongs to Cassie, to us, to the new life we've created.
When Cassie arrives at my penthouse that evening, she looks simultaneously exhausted and radiant. She's carrying takeout bags from our favorite Italian place and a small envelope I immediately recognize as containing sonogram images.
"How did it go with the board?" she asks after I take the food from her hands and kiss her properly.
"About as expected. They're concerned but manageable. We'll implement some governance changes, make an official statement." I guide her to the couch. "But enough about that. Show me."
Her smile is luminous as she hands me the envelope. "It doesn't look like much yet. Just a blob, really. But there's a heartbeat."
I open the envelope with careful fingers, pulling out the grainy black and white image. She's right—it's small, indistinct, nothing like the clear baby shapes you see in movies. And yet, knowing what it is, what it represents, makes it the most remarkable thing I've ever seen.
"That's our baby," I say, my voice thick with emotion I don't try to disguise.
"That's our baby," she confirms, leaning against me as we both stare at the image. "The doctor says everything looks good, though she wants to monitor my blood pressure. Apparently, it's running a bit low."
"Is that dangerous?" I ask, immediately concerned.
"Not usually. Just something to watch." She takes the sonogram back, tracing the tiny shape with her fingertip. "I made another appointment for two weeks from now. You'll come to that one?"
"Try keeping me away," I say, pulling her closer.
We eat dinner on the couch, talking about her appointment, about names, about everything except the board meeting and Grant's press release. It's a deliberate bubble of normalcy in what will likely become an increasingly complicated situation.
After dinner, as we're clearing the containers, Cassie looks up at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"You didn't tell the board about the baby, did you?" she asks.
"No," I say immediately. "That's our news to share when we're ready."
Relief softens her features. "Good. I'm not ashamed of it, but I'm not ready for the whole world to know yet. I want to get past the first trimester, at least."
"Whatever you want," I assure her, pulling her into my arms. "This is your body, your experience. I'm just along for the ride."
She laughs against my chest. "That's not how I remember it happening."
"Fair point," I concede, pressing a kiss to her hair. "But you're the one doing the hard part now."
She tilts her face up to mine, her expression turning serious. "We're both doing hard parts, Roman. You faced the board today. You're managing a potential PR crisis. You're figuring out how to be a father without any good examples. None of that is easy."
The simple acknowledgment of my struggles, so freely given, hits me with unexpected force. I've spent so long projecting invulnerability that having someone see through it—and accept it without judgment—still catches me off guard.
I lower my mouth to hers, pouring everything I can't articulate into the kiss. She responds immediately, arms winding around my neck as she rises on tiptoes to meet me. What begins as tenderness quickly transforms into hunger, my hands sliding beneath her shirt to find warm skin.
"Bedroom," she murmurs against my mouth. "Now."
I'm happy to comply, lifting her easily and carrying her through the penthouse. Her legs wrap around my waist, her mouth never leaving mine as I navigate the familiar path.
In the bedroom, I lay her gently on the bed, my hands suddenly uncertain. "Is this okay? With the baby, I mean?"
She smiles, pulling me down to her. "More than okay. The doctor specifically said normal activities are fine." She presses a kiss to my jaw. "And this is very normal for us."
Permission granted, I lose myself in her—in the silk of her skin, the sounds she makes when I touch her just right, the way her body responds to mine as if we were made for each other.
There's a new tenderness mixed with the desire now, a reverence that wasn't there before.
Each touch feels like worship, each kiss a prayer of gratitude.
When I finally enter her, moving with careful restraint, her hands frame my face, forcing me to meet her gaze.
"I'm not breakable," she whispers. "Love me like you mean it."
The primal part of me responds instantly to her challenge, my control fracturing as I drive deeper, harder.
She matches me move for move, her nails scoring my back, her legs urging me closer.
We find our rhythm quickly, bodies remembering what minds sometimes forget—that we fit together perfectly, complementary pieces of a whole.
When she comes apart beneath me, my name on her lips like a benediction, I follow immediately, unable and unwilling to separate my pleasure from hers.
In that moment of shared release, all the barriers fall—no CEO, no Creative Director, just Roman and Cassie, creating something neither of us could make alone.
Afterward, she curls against me, her breathing slowly steadying. I trail my fingers along her spine, savoring the weight of her against me.
"I need to see my father," I say into the darkness, the words emerging from some place I didn't know needed voice.
She stills against me. "Your father? I thought you barely spoke."
"We don't. But I need to... I don't know. Resolve something. Before I become a father myself."
She raises up on one elbow, studying my face in the dim light. "Are you sure that's a good idea? From what you've told me, he's not exactly supportive."
"It's not about getting his support," I explain, trying to articulate what I've only just realized myself.
"It's about facing him as an equal. About breaking the hold he still has, even after all these years.
I can't be the father our child deserves while I'm still, on some level, afraid of becoming him. "
Understanding dawns in her eyes. "You want closure."
"I want freedom," I correct her gently. "From patterns I might not even recognize. From fears I haven't fully acknowledged."
She nods, pressing a kiss to my chest, right over my heart. "Then you should go. Do what you need to do."
We lapse into comfortable silence, my thoughts circling around tomorrow's conversation with my father, around Cassie's blood pressure, around the board's reaction. So many moving pieces, so many potential points of failure.
Just as I'm drifting toward sleep, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I consider ignoring it—a rare impulse for me—but years of conditioning win out. I reach for it, squinting at the screen in the darkness.
It's a text from Zara, with a link to an industry blog and two words that instantly clear any trace of drowsiness:
It's out.
I click the link, dread pooling in my stomach as the page loads. The headline confirms my worst fears:
"EXCLUSIVE: Elysian CEO Roman Kade Expecting Child with Creative Director Cassandra Monroe. Sources confirm relationship began before her promotion."
Beneath it, a photo of Cassie leaving the obstetrician's office today, my name clearly visible on the paperwork she's holding. And a smaller inset image of Camden Sullivan, credited as the exclusive source for the story.
Just like that, our private joy becomes public spectacle. Our carefully managed disclosure timeline, shattered. And the battle I thought I'd forestalled with the board today will now explode with fresh ammunition.
I set the phone down carefully, not wanting to wake Cassie with this news. Not yet. Not when she's sleeping peacefully against me, one hand once again resting protectively over her stomach.
Morning will come soon enough, bringing with it the storm we've been dreading. For now, I hold her close, standing guard between her and a world that's about to get much more complicated.
Camden Sullivan has just ensured that whatever happens next, it's going to be war.