Chapter 12
737 Words
The door shuddered under Nolan’s fists. Roman didn't look flustered; he looked like a predator whose hunt had been interrupted. He stood up, smoothing his shirt with a terrifying, calculated calm.
"Stay in here," he ordered, his voice low.
"Roman, if you open that door—"
"I said stay." He didn't wait for an argument. He turned and strode out of the bedroom, his movements sharp and efficient.
I scrambled off the bed, clutching the robe to my chest, and hurried to the doorway, hovering just out of sight in the hall. My heart was slamming against my ribs.
I heard the heavy click of the deadbolt. The front door swung open, and Nolan didn't wait for an invitation. He charged in, his face a mask of barely contained fury.
"I told you I’d check in, Roman, but this is ridiculous," Nolan roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "I’ve been trying to call you for an hour. I come over here to see how she’s settling in, and you’re ghosting me?"
"I was busy," Roman said, his voice cool, bordering on bored. It was the voice he used when he was shutting down a reporter, and it only seemed to make Nolan more agitated.
"Busy? She's my sister, not a houseguest you can just keep on ice!" Nolan shoved past him, his eyes scanning the living room.
I stepped into the hallway, my breath hitching. Nolan froze, his eyes locking onto me. His expression went through a rapid transformation—from pure, unadulterated rage to a kind of stunned, protective disbelief when he saw me standing there, disheveled and clearly in the master suite.
"Allie?" Nolan’s voice dropped, the fire in his eyes shifting into a cold, sharp glare directed at Roman. "You told me she was in the guest suite. What are you doing in the master, Allie?"
Roman leaned against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked every bit the 'Golden Boy'—composed, calculated, and entirely unbothered.
"The storm was bad," Roman said, choosing his words with surgical precision. "She was cold. She came looking for a warmer room."
Nolan didn't buy it. He stepped toward Roman, his voice trembling with contained violence. "You don't let a woman wander into your master suite as a 'favor.' And you sure as hell don't do it while you're supposedly protecting her from guys like Liam."
Nolan turned back to me, his expression hardening. "Allie, get your things. You’re coming home with me. This dynamic is wrong. You’re vulnerable, and he’s... he’s who he is. He’s not going to change just because he’s doing you a favor."
I looked at Roman. He was watching me with a gaze that felt heavy, a silent command to play along. He’d told me earlier he was going to keep doing exactly what he was doing—playing the field, maintaining the image—and if I left with Nolan, I was back in the "safe" zone. If I stayed, I was officially choosing the chaos.
"I’m not going with you, Nolan," I said, my voice firmer than I expected.
Nolan stopped dead. "What did you just say?"
"I said I’m not leaving." I walked toward them, forcing myself to stand between my brother and the man who was currently holding my life hostage. "I’m an adult, Nolan. I’m tired of being managed. Roman offered me a place to stay, and I’m staying."
Nolan looked at me as if I were a stranger. Then, he turned that same look onto Roman. "You’ve been manipulating her. You’ve been feeding her these excuses about 'protection' while you play your games? I know about the women, Roman. I know about the reputation. You think I’m going to let you drag her into that?"
Roman let out a cold, sharp laugh. He pushed off the island and walked over to me, stopping close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear—a possessive, deliberate gesture.
"Nolan," Roman said, his voice dropping to a smooth, dangerous velvet. "Maybe you should stop worrying about what I'm doing, and start worrying about the fact that your sister doesn't want to go home to the life you've laid out for her."
The tension was thick enough to choke on. Nolan’s face went white, then a deep, dangerous red.
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