Chapter 3 - The Lion in the Suburbs
Evelyn Miller moved across the polished parquet floor with the speed and precision of a guided missile. Her heels clicked a sharp, staccato rhythm against the wood, cutting straight through the gentle hum of string-quartet music drifting from the terrace.
"Sadi Elizabeth Miller," Evelyn hissed, her voice dropping into that terrifyingly sweet, acidic register reserved exclusively for her daughters when they stepped out of line. She stopped three feet away, her eyes darting frantically from Sadi’s emerald dress up to Roman’s intimidating, unreadable face. "What is the meaning of this? You told me on the phone yesterday that you were coming alone. I specifically placed you at table twelve near the service doors so you wouldn't disrupt the photography!"
Sadi opened her mouth to speak, rehearsing a polite, rehearsed excuse about last-minute plans, but Roman stepped forward.
He didn't loom, exactly, but his sheer height and broad shoulders instantly forced Evelyn to tilt her head back just to maintain eye contact. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees, radiating a cold, magnetic gravity that made Evelyn’s practiced social armor buckle in an instant.
"Mrs. Miller," Roman said, his voice a deep, gravelly baritone that carried a subtle, commanding weight. He extended a hand. "I’m Roman. Sadi’s... boyfriend."
Evelyn stared at his outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake. She didn't take it. Instead, her eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she looked him up and down—taking in the expensive, unlabelled navy suit, the subtle strength in his posture, and the faint, unmistakable aura of danger that clung to him like smoke.
"Sadi," Evelyn said, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed rage as she ignored Roman entirely. "Who is this man? Where did you meet him? He is clearly not from the club, and he certainly isn't Derek’s investment-banking crowd."
"Mom," Sadi said, standing a little taller, feeling the solid, anchoring warmth of Roman’s hand resting securely at the small of her back. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel the urge to shrink. She didn't feel like the clumsy, overweight older sister in the shadow of her golden-child sister, Chloe. "Be polite. Roman drove all the way from the city to be here with me."
"From the city," Evelyn repeated, her face flushing a mottled pink. "Sadi, your sister’s rehearsal dinner is a formal family affair! We have judges here, real estate developers, and Derek’s entire family from the North Shore! You can't just drag some... some rough-looking stranger off the street and introduce him as your boyfriend!"
"I am not a stranger, Mrs. Miller," Roman intervened, his voice dropping an octave, turning into something so quietly lethal that Evelyn actually took an involuntary half-step backward. His slate-gray eyes locked onto hers with absolute, terrifying clarity. "And I assure you, Sadi didn't drag me anywhere. I insisted on coming. Because wherever Sadi goes, I go."
The silence that stretched between the three of them was absolute.
Across the room, several guests had started turning their heads, sensing the sudden spike of tension. Evelyn looked as though she wanted to scream, but something in Roman’s deadpan, unyielding gaze told her that if she pushed him an inch further, he might dismantle her entire social standing with a single phone call.
"Table four," Evelyn managed to choke out, her fingers tightening around her empty martini glass until her knuckles turned white. "You were assigned to table twelve near the kitchen. But... but table four has two empty seats because the Hendersons canceled with the flu. You can sit there. Both of you."
A slow, dark smirk touched the corner of Roman’s mouth.
"Table four," Roman repeated, glancing down at Sadi with a look of quiet amusement. "Isn't that nice, Sadi? Right where we wanted to be."
Evelyn glared at them one last time, turned on her heel with military precision, and marched off toward the bridal party table, looking as though she needed a double scotch immediately.
Sadi let out a long, shuddering breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She turned to Roman, her eyes wide with a mixture of sheer panic and wicked exhilaration.
May you like
"You terrified her," Sadi whispered. "You absolutely terrified my mother."
"Your mother lacks imagination," Roman replied smoothly, offering his arm. "Shall we go claim our seats at table four? I believe we have some old ghosts to exorcise."
