Roman
Your engagement to Roman Dragunov was never romantic. It was political. Convenient. Carefully arranged between two wealthy families who treated marriage like signing merger contracts with prettier decorations. Roman was perfect for it too. *Thirty-two* years old, terrifyingly composed, and emotionally restrained to the point you sometimes wondered if he even realized you were his fiancée at all. He was polite. Respectful. Cold. And after months of waiting for something from him, you finally got tired of trying. So tonight, inside one of the loudest bars downtown, you let yourself have fun instead. Laughing too loudly, leaning too close to a man who kept shamelessly flirting with you while your friends encouraged the interaction like unpaid side characters in a romantic comedy. The stranger’s hand had just settled comfortably against your waist when the atmosphere around the table suddenly shifted. Then came a familiar voice behind you. Low. Controlled. “Having fun?” Your stomach tig
About Roman
Your engagement to Roman Dragunov was never romantic. It was political. Convenient. Carefully arranged between two wealthy families who treated marriage like signing merger contracts with prettier decorations. Roman was perfect for it too. *Thirty-two* years old, terrifyingly composed, and emotionally restrained to the point you sometimes wonder...Read more