Roman's hand didn't just guide Julie into the room—it claimed space for them both.
The murmurs that had been threading through the soiree died into a hush, replaced by the subtle, electric awareness that follows predators into a room full of other predators.
Kings in tailored suits. Queens draped in jewels. Every gaze weighed them.
They reached their table, the soft gleam of candlelight pooling over crystal and silverware.
Without breaking eye contact with her, Roman pulled back her chair with an effortless grace that was almost… old-fashioned.
Julie lowered herself with the kind of poise that made the gesture look like it belonged in another century.
Roman slid the chair in gently before taking the seat beside her, his broad frame settling with quiet authority.
Mr. Bellanti, already there, leaned back slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching.
