Once Patricia was gone, Roman grabbed Syres by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his voice low but seething with fury.
"If you make Eve cry again, I swear I won’t let you off so easily. If you truly don’t want her, be a man and tell her. Stop dragging her through this."
Syres scoffed, unfazed by the threat. "I never knew you still cared about a sister who has already disowned you," he mocked. He relished reminding Roman of the wedge he had driven between him and Eve. Syres knew full well that she needed her brother in this brutal world, but his hatred ran too deep to care.
Roman’s grip tightened dangerously. "You are hurting her," he growled, "and she’s not going to stop until you make it clear she should."
Syres chuckled darkly. "How else should I do that? I already humiliated her in public. Should I start hooking her up with other men?" His laugh echoed in the room, sharp and cruel.
Roman’s fists clenched at his sides, the tension radiating off him in waves.
"Why do you keep doing this?" He asked, his tone quieter now, but no less intense. "It’s been years, Syres. Aren’t you tired?"
In an instant, Syres’s expression changed. The mockery drained from his face, replaced by something much colder, calculated rage.
"Were you always before you killed my brother?" He spat. "I have always wondered... What the hell ran through your mind when you murdered your own mother, and your best friend’s brother?!"
Roman, unfazed, stared at him. "If you really want to know, I will have to kill you too," he said coldly. "Maybe then you would finally be able to read my mind from the grave."
It was the same answer Roman always gave, sharp, brutal, and unapologetic. But this time, it pushed Syres to the edge.
"If you don’t care, then why should I?" Syres hissed. "Now that you have reminded me, maybe I will toy with Eve some more. Seems like hurting the women you care about is the only way to get to you. Patricia, Eve... maybe that’s the secret. Break the ones you try so hard to protect."
Roman’s jaw tightened, his stare burning into Syres.
"You can fake everything else but not your feelings for Eve," he said harshly. "You will regret what you are doing to her one day."
He shoved Syres back with force, releasing his collar roughly before storming out of the room, leaving behind a thick silence.
Syres stood frozen for a moment, then clenched his fists and ran a hand through his hair in raw frustration. "Damn it!" He cursed under his breath.
He hated himself even more now. Hurting Patricia had brought him no peace but getting a reaction out of Roman, even one drenched in hatred, made it feel almost worth it. It was the longest conversation they have had in ten years.
All thanks to Patricia...and to Eve.
But Eve... she was different. The one person he didn’t want to break. She didn’t deserve the pain he kept inflicting on her. But how could he love the sister of the man who killed his brother? To love her felt like betrayal. A betrayal to the brother who still hadn’t received justice.
Back in Roman’s room, Patricia had been pacing anxiously, her thoughts racing. The moment the door opened, she froze, her eyes scanning every inch of him, searching for bruises, blood, any sign that things had turned violent.
She met his gaze, trying to read his expression, but Roman’s face was like stone. The silence between them weighed heavier than any words.
"Did anything happen?" She asked, unable to keep the concern out of her voice.
Roman didn’t answer. Instead, he slammed the door shut behind him with force, the sound echoing through the room like a warning. His steps were slow but deliberate, heavy, intense. Patricia instinctively moved backward, heart pounding, unsure of what was coming next.
Before she could react further, he reached her and suddenly swept her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry. Her breath hitched in surprise. He carried her to the table nearby and gently set her down on it, trapping her between his body and the edge of the table, his arms on either side of her.
"I told you to stay away from him," he said, his voice low and hoarse, filled with emotion she couldn’t quite decipher.
Patricia frowned, trying to explain. "I wasn’t the one who..." But before she could finish, his lips crashed against hers, stealing her breath, and her words.
His hand cradled the back of her neck while the other held her waist firmly. She froze for a moment, stunned by the intensity of the kiss. When she didn’t part her lips, he nipped her lower lip, forcing a small cry from her. She quickly pushed him away, her eyes wide with shock.
"What the hell was that?" She demanded, dropping her fingers to her lips and checking if they were bleeding.
But Roman didn’t let her go far. He pulled her back by the waist, holding her tighter this time, his tone fierce yet earnest. "I don’t care who makes the first move, if he ever gets close again, run. If you truly want a divorce, then stay the hell away from him until it’s final."
She blinked, stunned by his words. Her heart fluttered despite the heat in his tone. Was he being serious?
"You are serious?" She asked softly, watching his face.
"Yes," he replied, gaze fixed on her. But the smile that tugged at her lips didn’t go unnoticed. It was faint, but it lit her face in a way he hadn’t seen before.
His eyes lingered on her, soaking her in as if trying to memorize her in that exact moment. Patricia’s expression quickly turned cautious when she saw his gaze drop to her lips again.
Before he could lean closer, she placed her hand over his mouth and said, "No." Her voice was soft, not cold, more unsure than disapproving.
To her surprise, Roman smiled against her hand. It was the first genuine smile she had ever seen on him, calm, unguarded. It made her chest tighten unexpectedly. Why did that smile feel so comforting?
He gently took her hand in his and lowered it. "Do you really think you can stop me from kissing you, if I wanted to?"
She swallowed hard, her confidence wavering under his gaze. "No. But I don’t want to kiss a man who doesn’t love me."
Roman didn’t move. "Do you want me to love you?"
That question knocked the breath out of her. She lifted her eyes to his, searching for a hint of sarcasm but found none. His expression was sincere. Intense. And tempting.
"No," she finally whispered, looking away. She didn’t trust herself to believe it, even if part of her wanted to.
Roman sighed quietly and stepped back, his movements slower now. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he helped her down from the table.
His touch lingered for just a second too long. And even in silence, the room still felt charged with everything left unsaid.
"Stay here tonight." She heard him say.