Lorraine paced her room for nearly an hour after storming off. Anger burned at first, but as it cooled, it left something sharper behind: resolve. Roman’s refusal wasn’t just about protection—it was about control. He loved her, wanted her, maybe even needed her, but he still wouldn’t trust her to share the weight of his world.
She had to change that.
Not with more arguing, not with reason—he could always out-logic her, could always silence her with that deep voice and the force of his presence. No, if she was going to make him listen, she had to speak the one language Roman never ignored: desire.
Her heart pounded as she moved to the mirror. She slipped out of her sundress and reached for the satin slip tucked in the drawer. It was pale champagne, clinging in all the right places, sheer
