The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Roman's private home office, casting long, golden spears across a room that felt vastly different from the sterile glass of the Thorne building. This was the dragon's true sanctum- lined with ancient leather-bound books, smelling of old paper and the sharp, clean scent of Roman's cedarwood aftershave.
Violet stood in the center of the Persian rug, her fingers twisting the hem of the oversized sweater she'd borrowed from the estate's guest suite. She had spent the night in a state of hyper-vigilance, every creak of the mansion's floorboards sounding like a crowbar against a door. But now, in the cold light of day, her fear had been replaced by a desperate need to contain the storm sitting behind the massive mahogany desk.
Roman was a silhouette of controlled fury. He was staring at a screen, his eyes moving with a lethal precision that told her he was already dismantling lives.
"Roman, look at me," Violet said, her voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "You have to stop. I know you've got your private investigators and your tech teams scouring every database from here to the coast. You have to call them off."
Roman didn't look up. "He broke into your home, Violet. He left a piece of volcanic glass on your table as if he were marking territory. I don't stop until he's buried."
"That's exactly what he wants!" Violet stepped closer, her voice rising. "He's a ghost for a reason. He lures people out. He waits for men like you- men with power and a protective streak, to show their hand. He doesn't just want me; he wants to crush whoever is standing in front of me. He'll squash your assets, your reputation, and then he'll come for you. Please, what can I do to make you give this up?"
The room went silent. The only sound was the low hum of the computer. Roman slowly pulled his gaze from the monitor and fixed it on her. The intensity was staggering; it felt as though he were physically reaching out to hold her in place.
He didn't stand. He remained seated in his high-backed leather chair, but he pushed himself back from the desk, creating a space between him and the wood. He looked at her, his jaw set, his icy blue eyes dark with a hunger that had been simmering since the night they met.
"Come here," he commanded. It wasn't a request. It was a low, vibrating rumble that made the air in the office feel heavy.
Violet hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs.
She took a step, then another, walking around the side of the desk. As she drew closer, Roman's chair slowly rotated, his gaze tracking her every movement with the focus of a predator watching its favorite prize.
"You want to know what it is that I want to give up the search?" Roman asked. His voice was velvet over steel.
Violet gave a small, hesitant nod, her breath catching in her throat as she stopped just inches from his knees.
Before she could speak, Roman's hand shot out. His fingers, still bandaged at the knuckles, wrapped firmly around her wrist. It wasn't painful, but the strength behind the grip was absolute With a sharp, deliberate tug, he pulled her down.
Violet gasped as she landed squarely on his lap. The contrast was jarring- the softness of her borrowed sweater against the hard, unyielding muscle of his thighs. He didn't let go of her wrist; instead, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, anchoring her flush against his chest. He leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply as if he were trying to memorize her scent.
"You," he murmured against her skin, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down her spine. "I want you. You see, I've been very patient, Violet. I've played by the rules. I've honored this... contract... between us. I've stayed on my side of the line while you played the sassy nanny and I played the brooding boss."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his face inches from hers. The aggressive, possessive energy radiating off him was suffocating. "But these rules? This distance? It's gotta go. That's my price. No more contract. No more 'professionalboundaries.' Just you, me, and Adam. I want the girl behind the songbird. All of her."
Violet was a flustered mess, her face burning, her pulse racing so fast she felt lightheaded. She tried to shift, but Roman's arm around her waist was like an iron bar.
"Roman, I... I can't do that," she stammered, her voice lacking its usual bite. "I'm married. You saw the note. You saw the obsidian. I might not love the guy- I might be terrified of him, but that doesn't mean I'm disloyal. I can't just... throw myself into your bed because you're protecting me. I have a code."
Roman's eyes darkened, but he didn't look angry. In fact, a flicker of something like admiration crossed his features. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers.
"Loyalty," he whispered. "I admire that. In a world of scavengers and sell-outs, you're holding onto a ghost because of a promise you made in a past life." He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb, his touch surprisingly tender for a man who had just pounced on her. "It makes me feel a lot better about our future. Because I know once you're mine, you will always be mine. You won't look back."
"I'm not 'yours' yet, you big brute," Violet shot back, trying to regain her sass even as her body melted into his. "And 'disloyal' isn't a color I wear well, even if I am wearing your sweater."
"I don't care that you're married," Roman said, his voice dropping into a hard, uncompromising tone. "My son wants you around. I want you around. I'm not asking for you to break a law tonight, Violet. I'm asking for the end of the boundaries. I'm asking to be allowed to look at you, to touch you, to know you without a piece of paper telling me I can't. I'm tired of being a stranger in my own house."
He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her so close she could feel the thrum of his heart through his shirt.
"Give me your hand, Violet. Give me your trust. And I'll consider slowing down the hunt. But only if you're here, where I can see you."
Violet looked at him- the sharp line of his nose, the bruised knuckles, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her defenses. Deep down, past the fear and the secrets, she wanted it too. She wanted the sanctuary he offered. She wanted the fire he carried. She was tired of running, and the dragon's lap was the most stable ground she'd found in years.
She let out a shaky, sassy breath, her lips curving into a tiny, defiant smirk. "You're very pushy for someone who's supposed to be 'patient,' Roman. And for the record, this is a terrible way to negotiate a business deal."
"This isn't business," Roman growled, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth. "This is a hostile takeover of my heart. Are you in, Violet Taylor?"
Violet didn't answer with words. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, her hand finally coming up to rest against his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.
"I guess I'm staying for the pancakes," she whispered.
Roman let out a low, satisfied sound, his face disappearing back into the crook of her neck. The lawsuit was still looming, the husband was still a shadow in the alley, and the obsidian was still on her mind- but for the first time, the dragon wasn't alone in the cave.