Breaking Bro Code

Chapter 10

The apartment felt cavernous without Roman. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving the city lights shimmering through the floor-to-ceiling glass like a blurred, unreachable dream.

Nolan’s reaction kept playing on a loop in my head. *I trust you with her more than anyone.* It was supposed to be a comfort, but it felt like a cage. My own brother had essentially signed off on my custody, never questioning why I was at Roman’s, never asking if I was safe *from* the man himself. To Nolan, Roman was the golden boy, the hero who could do no wrong. He didn't see the way Roman looked at me when the cameras were off—like I was prey he hadn't decided whether to devour or destroy.

I spent the next two hours pacing, the silence of the penthouse amplifying my thoughts. I finally went to the kitchen, needing something to steady my hands, and that’s when I saw it.

Roman’s phone was sitting on the granite island. He must have left it behind in his rush to leave.

I told myself not to look. I told myself it didn't matter. But the curiosity was a physical itch. I picked it up, the screen lighting up under my touch. It wasn't locked.

The notifications were a steady stream of chaos. Texts, missed calls, and social media mentions. I scrolled through, my heart sinking lower with every swipe. There was a message from a woman named Chloe, timestamped only twenty minutes ago: *The club is packed, but the VIP table is waiting for you. Don't keep me waiting too long, handsome.*

Then another, from someone identified as "Tessa": *Missed you earlier. When are you finally coming over?*

My throat tightened. I knew the rumors were true, but seeing the evidence—the casual, persistent demand for his time—made it visceral. He had left here, angry and frustrated with me, only to walk straight into a world where he was the prize.

I felt a surge of cold, hard anger replace the hurt. He wanted to keep a foot in both worlds? He wanted to play the "loyal friend" to Nolan while keeping me in a guest suite and everyone else in his bed?

I didn't put the phone back on the counter. I put it in my pocket and walked toward the bedroom, my decision made.

If he wanted to play the playboy, he could. But he had made a mistake. He’d forgotten that I was the one with the keys to his fortress.

I changed into something I would never have dared to wear before—a silk robe I’d found in the walk-in closet, simple, elegant, and dangerously revealing. I didn't wait in the guest suite. I went to the master bedroom, the space that had been strictly off-limits, and sat on the edge of the sprawling king-sized bed.

I wasn't waiting for him to come home so I could apologize. I was waiting for him so I could show him that if he was going to keep a foot in both worlds, he was about to lose his grip on both.

Hours passed. Around 2:00 AM, I heard the heavy thud of the front door.

Roman walked into the master bedroom, his jacket tossed over his shoulder, his tie loose around his neck. He stopped dead when he saw me, his eyes narrowing instantly.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I stood up, holding his phone out to him. I didn't flinch. "Chloe says the VIP table is waiting, Roman. You should probably head back out. You wouldn't want to keep your obligations waiting."

He froze, his gaze shifting from the phone to me. The atmosphere in the room shifted, the air growing heavy and suffocating. He didn't look tired anymore. He looked lethal.

"You went through my phone," he said, the words barely a whisper.

"I did," I replied, my voice steady for the first time in weeks. "And I realized something. You’re terrified of Nolan finding out, but you’re even more terrified of actually having to choose. You think you can keep me on the sidelines while you play the part, but you’re wrong."

He took a step toward me, his shadow looming large against the wall. "You have no idea what you're playing with, Allie."

"Maybe not," I said, meeting his eyes without blinking. "But I’m done being the secret, and I’m definitely done being the backup plan."

He was inches away now, his presence overwhelming. He looked at me, really looked at me, and for a split second, I saw the mask slip—not into vulnerability, but into a raw, unfiltered hunger that had nothing to do with the women at the clubs.

"You want to know what happens when you cross that line?" he growled, reaching out to grab the phone from my hand. He tossed it aside, the device skittering across the floor. He crowded me back until my legs hit the edge of the bed. "You’re about to find out."