Chapter 3

Three days.

I told myself that the conversation on the terrace was just a product of momentary impulse. Roman was emotional, I was overwhelmed by memories—that's all it was.

But for these three days, his words had been playing on repeat in my mind like a virus. That almost desperate honesty, and that depth in his eyes when he looked at me—something I'd never seen before.

I rented an office in downtown—modern minimalist style, floor-to-ceiling windows, everything new. A fresh start, a new environment that should help me refocus on my career and forget those inappropriate thoughts.

Wednesday afternoon, I was focused on contract revisions, the afternoon sun slanting across my desk. From outside came my assistant Lisa's slightly panicked voice: "Sir, you can't just go in! Ms. Cross is busy—"

"It's okay, she'll see me."

That voice made my hand freeze instantly. Deep, confident, carrying an undeniable authority.

The door was pushed open, and Roman appeared in the doorway. He wore a dark suit, taller and more imposing than I remembered. Nothing like the boy who once needed comfort.

Lisa followed behind him, looking flustered: "Ms. Cross, this gentleman insists on seeing you..."

"Roman, you should have made an appointment."

"Thank you, Lisa." Roman said to my assistant, then walked straight in and locked the door behind him.

"Sir!" Lisa protested from outside.

"Lisa, it's fine." I tried to make my voice sound professional, "Don't disturb us for the next half hour."

The footsteps outside gradually faded. Only the two of us remained in the office.

Roman didn't sit down but stood in front of my desk, hands in his pockets. The sunlight behind him formed a halo, making it hard to see his expression, but I could feel that almost tangible gaze.

"I thought we made ourselves clear." I closed the file, trying to appear calm, "Roman, I hope you can understand—"

"Understand what?" He took a step toward me, "Understand that you're lying?"

"I'm not lying."

"You're running away." He took another step closer, "Three days, Vivian. Three days you haven't returned my texts, haven't answered my calls."

I was indeed running away. Every time my phone rang with his name, I felt a wave of panic. Not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid of my own reaction.

"I'm working." I stood up, trying to maintain distance, "And I think it's wise for us to keep our distance."

Roman stopped, something flashing in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? Or something else?

"Wise." He repeated the word, his mouth curving into a sardonic smile, "You know what's wise? Being honest about your feelings."

"Roman—"

"I love you, Vivian." He said it bluntly, without any preamble, "Not gratitude, not some Oedipal complex. A man's love for a woman. A grown man's love for a grown woman."

I stepped back, my back against the window.

"You're 10 years younger than me." I said, my voice weaker than intended, "I used to take care of you, I watched you grow up—"

"Those are all excuses." Roman walked toward me, each step making my heart race faster, "10 years? So what? I'm 31, you're 41, we're both adults. As for you taking care of me..." He stopped three steps away from me, "That makes me even more certain you're the woman I want."

"This isn't right." I tried to find an escape route, but he blocked the path to the door, "We can't..."

"Why can't we?" He interrupted me, his voice low and dangerous, "Because of what others will think? Or because you're scared?"

"I'm not scared."

"Then why are you trembling?"

Damn it, I was trembling. His presence was like a magnetic field, disrupting all my senses. I could smell his faint cologne, could see that almost insanely focused light in his eyes.

"Tell me, Vivian." He took another step forward, now we were less than two steps apart, "Tell me you don't feel anything for me. Look into my eyes and tell me you've never thought about... the possibility between us."

I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words stuck in my throat. Because that would be a lie.

Over the years, whenever it was deep in the night, whenever I lay alone in bed, I had indeed thought about it. Thought about his hands, thought about his lips, thought about what if... what if we didn't have that complicated past, what if he wasn't Roman Ashford, what if I wasn't Vivian Cross...

"I can see it." His voice dropped lower, "The answer in your eyes."

"Roman, this is too complicated." I was almost pleading, "You don't understand, if we..."

"If what?" He moved closer again, now I could feel the heat from his body, "If being together would be troublesome? If people would talk? If your reputation would suffer?"

Each "if" hit my heart like a hammer, because they were all true.

"You're overthinking." Roman reached out to gently caress my cheek, and my whole body froze, "Sometimes, Vivian, the simplest answer is the right one. I love you, and you love me too. Nothing else matters."

His hand was warm, gentle, completely different from the boy who needed comfort in my memory. This was a mature man's touch, full of confidence and possessiveness.

"I..." I tried to say something, but my thoughts became muddled.

"Your body is more honest than your mind." His other hand found my waist, gently pulling me toward him, "You're trembling, but not from fear. Your breathing is rapid, pupils dilated. You want this, just like I want you."

Damn it, he was right. My body completely betrayed my rational mind. When he touched me, an electric current spread from the point of contact throughout my body, making me almost melt.

He backed me up until my back hit the edge of the desk. Now we were only inches apart, and I could see that almost predatory focus in his eyes.

"Roman, stop..." My voice became a whisper.

"Why?" His hand slid to my lower back, "Give me a real reason, not that social standards bullshit. Give me a reason your heart truly believes."

His face moved closer and closer, I could feel his breath brush against my lips. In this moment, the whole world disappeared, leaving only the two of us, only this suffocating tension.

"Say you don't want this." He said almost against my lips, his voice low like a murmur, "Say you don't want me to kiss you."

My brain went completely blank. Want? I didn't just want it—I was desperate for it. But just as he was about to kiss me, the last thread of my rationality snapped.

"No." I used all my strength to push him away, squeezing out from between the desk and his body, "I can't... I have to go."

Roman didn't chase after me, but stood there watching me frantically gather my things.

"Run." His voice came from behind me, terrifyingly calm, "But you can't run forever, Vivian. You'll admit your feelings eventually."

I rushed out of the office without looking back, almost knocking over Lisa who was walking over with coffee.

"Ms. Cross?" She called out worriedly.

But I was already in the elevator, leaning against the cold metal wall, trying to calm my racing heart.

When the elevator doors closed, I closed my eyes, Roman's words echoing in my ears: 'You'll admit your feelings eventually.'

Damn it, he was right again.

Because in that moment when he almost kissed me, what I wanted wasn't to push him away.

What I wanted was to pull him closer.