CHAPTER 33 ROMAN
ROMAN
Idon’t rush when I pull up outside the house.
A strange sense of foreboding presses low in my ribs, that is unfamiliar and unwelcome.
My headlights wash over the stone facade, tracing lines I know by memory, yet tonight it looks different.
Not in the literal sense. The flowers are the same.
The moss-covered stones still shine under the moonlight.
Yet there is a coldness that doesn’t belong anywhere near my family.
This place has always felt like a sanctuary, a softness I carved out in a world that is otherwise harsh.
The last time I was here, Mum was dancing barefoot across the kitchen tiles to old soul music she insists sounds better on vinyl.
She spun past me with a wooden spoon in her hand, laughing at nothing.
Dad was in the office, his door half open as he tapped his pen to the beat of the music.
He would swear blind that never happens, but it always does. It felt…safe.
I’m a man who needs structure and routine. Without it, it feels like my world is crumbling. But there is nothing routine about this. Tonight, I’m here to play house with a woman I wouldn’t look at twice if politics didn’t demand it.
The idea that Quinn is going to peacock around my family like the perfect little wife is insane to me.
I will never accept her. If I were built differently, maybe I would feel guilt for that.
It isn’t Quinn’s fault her father brokered her like livestock and it isn’t her fault my dad believes consolidation matters more than compatibility.
But guilt requires empathy and I have none for her.
The gravel crunches beneath my shoes as I walk up the path.
I lift my hand to knock, but the door opens before my knuckles connect.
Mum stands there and I can automatically tell that something is wrong.
My body coils tight as I take in her features.
Her energy is off. It’s subtle, the way her shoulders are held too straight and the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
She looks composed, too composed, and it makes my skin itch.
It is almost laughable how much her moods affect me.
Give me a blade and a soundproof room and I won’t hesitate to carve the bones from a living man. Blood doesn’t unsettle me and screams don’t shake me, but my mother not being her usual warm, chaotic self? That crawls under my skin in a way violence never has.
Mum is wearing one of her soft knit cardigans.
It’s pale blue, the sleeves are pushed to her elbows like she’s been busy.
There’s a faint dusting of flour near her wrist and a thin gold chain resting against her collarbone.
Her eyes roam over me, like she’s taking stock of my appearance.
She gives me a soft smile before stepping back to let me in.
“Mum.” I lean down to kiss her cheek, but the look she gives me is enough to stop me.
Oh yeah, she is pissed.
I follow her wordlessly to the kitchen, a path I could walk with my eyes closed. I watch as she mixes what looks to be cake batter with an aggression that could make grown men cry and frown.
“Mum,” I try again, “what’s wrong?”
The spoon she was holding clatters into the mixing bowl. Mum bows her head as she grips the kitchen sides, her whole body moves with each deep inhale as I wait for her to compose herself and look at me.
“Are you actually okay with this?” she snaps, looking at me.
Her vitriol takes me back before warmth blooms in my chest as it dawns on me why she’s upset. She’s accepted Fae, and not just that, but she has that motherly fire my friends love so much.
“No,” I respond carefully, “I have told him time and time again that I am not interested, but he is not hearing me.”
Mum scoffs and shakes her head.
“I love your father, I do, but sometimes I wish he would stop putting duty above everything. He didn’t even ask me, you know?
” She looks over to the kitchen door. “Not once in our thirty years of marriage has he ever demanded something from me, and we have always come together as a team, but this? This is like a sickness, Roman, and I’m not just angry, but I’m worried too. ”
“Well, he’s a big guy, Mum, he can handle himself.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she snaps, straightening abruptly.
I don’t respond immediately, trying to process what she is saying. I lean back against the counter instead, folding my arms as I watch her. She drags a hand through her hair and flour catches in the dark strands as she paces once across the kitchen tiles before turning back to me.
“He’s changing, Roman, and he thinks I don’t see it.
He’s always carried responsibility,” she continues, her voice lowering.
“That was part of the deal when I married him. His father drilled it into him from the day he could stand upright. Your old goat of a grandfather was all about legacy and expansion. I supported that, and I believed in it. I still do.” She presses her lips together.
“But somewhere along the way it stopped being ambition and started being… obsession.” She flaps her hand and shakes her head.
“I should have put my foot down more over the years. I know that. But your father following in his father’s footsteps mattered to him.
It mattered so much, and I loved him enough to step aside when I needed to. I thought I was supporting his dreams.”
“But not when his dreams impact me?” I hedge, raising my eyebrow, she sighs.
“No, not when they impact you.”
My chest tightens. I’m very aware of how lucky I am. In a world full of darkness, having her by my side has probably stopped me from becoming a full-blown psychopath.
“Well, I’m a big guy too, Mum. I’m thankful you care, but I can handle it. It’s not worth you getting so worked up over. He can’t force me to marry her, and he can’t force me to marry anyone. Quite frankly, I’m the one who has the ace.” I shrug.
Mum’s face loses some colour at the thought as her eyes go wide.
“The compound,” she responds in a monotone voice.
“The compound. As you said, legacy and duty, right? Without me taking over as heir, then what is the point of it?”
“You would really threaten him with that?” she studies me carefully.
“I wouldn’t threaten,” I correct evenly. “I would gently remind him.”
“Roman…”
“I’m not a pawn Mum,” I snap and she nods like she understands.
Dusting her hands off, she turns back to the cake batter and starts to mix it like it’s not her worst enemy. My shoulders relax for the first time since I stepped through the doors. I can see her body relaxing as well as she processes what I’ve said.
In a way, it was a calculated decision to say that to her.
I’m not going to the compound, but it keeps my dad out of the loop.
I’m not stupid, they are husband and wife and they get on well.
If I told her the truth, that I am marrying Fae sooner rather than later, then she would tell him. Not maliciously, but eventually.
“I like her,” Mum says plainly, pulling me out of my musings and forcing a smile from my lips.
“I like her too.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “I like her for you. She challenges you, and she doesn’t flinch around you like most people do. She looks at you like she understands you, not what you are to The Company, but who you are when all of that is stripped away.”
Her voice softens as she looks at me and a small smile crosses her face as that happy aura starts to settle back into the room.
“You’re different around her.”
I roll my eyes, having flashbacks to the gala and how flabbergasted she was that we were touching.
“You stared at us like we’d committed murder in plain sight,” I remind her dryly but she just chuckles.
“I’ve watched you your whole life,” she says gently. “You’ve always been composed and measured, even as a boy. But with her… you look alive. And not in that dangerous way your dad admires, but in a way that makes me believe you could actually be happy.”
“I feel alive,” I admit quietly. “She doesn’t look at me like something to manage, she just looks at me like I’m… hers,” I shrug as I feel my face heat, I’m pretty sure Fae would laugh at me being embarrassed right now.
“Love over duty, Roman. Every time. Duty will always demand more, and it never says thank you, and it never stops. Love… love gives back.” Her eyes flick briefly toward the hallway again.
“If you want that girl, Roman, you fight for her. Don’t you dare sacrifice yourself quietly because it’s easier.
I won’t watch you build a life you resent. ”
“I won’t,” I say simply.
The doorbell rings and the sound slices through the kitchen. Mum closes her eyes briefly, then she straightens her cardigan, wipes her hands, and looks at me with something resolute.
“I’ll get it,” she says.
I watch as she walks out of the kitchen and a stony expression settles across my face.
Three hours. That is all this is. Three hours and I can get back to Fae.
Turning, I walk to the dining room. Just like everything else in this house, it isn’t ostentatious.
My dad has always despised that kind of wealth.
The table is dark walnut, polished but scratched in places from years of use.
The high-back chairs are upholstered in cream and silver cutlery is laid perfectly.
Crystal glasses catch the light as photographs line the far wall.
Each photo tells a story. There are ones of us mid-laugh, me at eleven holding a rifle too big for my shoulders, my parents at a gala twenty years ago, and everything looked so… uncomplicated.
Dad is already seated at the head of the table, reading something on his phone. He looks up when I enter, we both offer a single nod. As I round the table to my usual seat, his eyes scan behind me briefly. Something like approval flickers across his face before it’s buried.
“Alone?” he asks and it takes a lot of willpower not to scoff.
“What does it look like, old man?” I snark back but he just chuckles.