ALINA'S POV
"Are you a thief, Roman?"
His chest rose sharply. Green eyes lit up in fury.
A dark, dangerous scoff punched out of him as he took one step forward, completely invading every inch of space I had left.
“Say that again,” he said, voice low, gravel scraping at the edges. "I dare you to say it,"
“I said,” I breathed, steady, chin lifted stubbornly. “You steal my ideas. That makes you a thief. Are you a thief, Roman?"
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek — anger and something hotter flickering behind his eyes. His jaw flexed so hard it could crack marble.
“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I need to steal anything from you.”
“Really?” I shot back, “Because you repeated my words in the meeting, changed two adjectives, and suddenly it became your idea.”
