Roman closed the space between us with a certain urgency, stopping right in front of me.
“And what did you say?” He asked in a low voice that sounded like the calm before the storm.
“I declined. Told him my fiancé doesn't like me being close to other men.”
A grin ghosted across his face. “Good girl.”
Then—God help me—he patted my head. Like I was a well-behaved cat.
He pulled his hand back almost instantly, dragging the other down his face with a humorless laugh. “You couldn’t just say it was a mistake? Or deny it outright?”
“Oh, sure. And then he’d sit there, watching me squirm, and decide I was lying. Dean doesn’t need proof to spread a story— he just needs to sense you're lying.”
Something hilarious and totally unrelated to this topic suddenly struck me.
“He'd actually make
