Roman moved fast, going after her. "What did you say to Vance?" he asked, his mind racing. Lena did not answer, nor did she stop. "Why are you leaving without talking to ?" he called, his breathing still heavy as he caught up.
Lena still did not answer. Her sneakers whispered softly against the floor, steady, unhurried. Roman reached out and caught her arm, stopping her. The contact was warm, solid, and she turned. Her eyes t his, and sothing in them, sothing unfamiliar flickered there. Not anger. Not quite.
"Don’t you get it, Roman?" she said quietly. "It’s over between us. Stay away from ."
The words landed harder than he expected and his face tightened. "What? "No, we already fixed this," he said quickly. "And—"
"You betrayed ," she cut in, her voice still calm, but firr now. "You humiliated . In front of everyone, our team, our friends." She shook her head, a faint, disbelieving breath leaving her. "I can’t co back from that."
Roman’s grip loosened slightly, confusion creeping in. "You have to understand that it was necessary. I told you that I did what I had to do for my career." His brows pulled together. "Is that so wrong?"
Lena held his gaze for a mont. Then she sighed, her expression softening briefly. "No, Roman, it’s not wrong," she said. "That’s exactly why I’m doing what’s best for mine."
His chest tightened. "What does that an?" he asked quickly. "What did you do?"
Lena didn’t answer right away. She simply slipped her arm free from his hold, the absence of her touch sudden. Then she looked at him. "Just live your life," she said softly. "And let live mine."
And this ti, when she turned, she didn’t stop. But Roman caught her again. His fingers closed around her wrist, not rough this ti, just firm enough to stop her. His brows pulled together, thoughts colliding faster than he could sort them.
"But I love you," he said. The words ca out uneven and unsteady, like even he wasn’t sure where they had co from.
Lena stopped. For a mont, she just looked at him. It’s you... or my career. Her mind spun, Magnus’s voice still echoing in her ears. Then, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head as if to clear it. "You’ll have to do better than words," she said, her tone quieter, but more resolute. "If you want to convince , if you want back."
Roman nodded imdiately, almost too quickly. "I know. I know," he said, urgency creeping into every syllable. He stepped closer, his grip loosening but not leaving her entirely. "That’s why I’m telling you that I’ll prove it. I’ll show you that you’re the only one I want. The only one who matters."
Lena held his gaze. For a second, sothing flickered there, temptation, maybe. A dangerous kind. Do that... and watch break every rule for you. She swallowed the thought before it could surface, forcing it down.
"You should stop talking," she said instead, pulling her hand free. "Action is what I need now." Then she took a step back. "I’m leaving. Don’t follow ," she said firmly.
And this ti, he didn’t move, he couldn’t, as if her words had rooted him in place. His body felt like sothing inside him had stalled. All he could was watch as Lena turned and walked away, her steps unhurried. Halfway down the hall, she glanced back just once.
Roman caught it, the look in her eyes, sothing almost like a call, a challenge, sothing unspoken hanging between them. But his feet didn’t move, he just stayed there and watched her go.
The soft ding of the elevator sounded faintly, and a mont later, the doors slid shut behind her.
And then silence followed.
Roman exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "I’ve never had to chase you," he muttered under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the empty space she’d left behind. "And I won’t start now." He paused, tapping his lips lightly as his thoughts began to sharpen.
"I just need a shortcut," he murmured. "Sothing big enough to pull you back in and keep you right where I need you." A spark lit behind his eyes, and a smile followed. "I know exactly who can help ."
The thought had barely settled when movent in the hallway caught his attention. Two maids walked past him, their steps quiet, uniforms crisp. Roman’s gaze narrowed as he turned, watching them head in a very specific direction. Towards his bedroom, towards Estelle.
His brows furrowed. "Mary," he called, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Where are you going?"
They stopped imdiately, turning to face him with polite, practiced composure, their hands clasped neatly in front of them.
"The lady called for us, sir," Mary replied.
Roman’s expression shifted, confusion threading through it. "The lady?" he repeated. "Estelle called you? What for?" he asked. Estelle doesn’t ask for help.
The two maids exchanged a brief glance, a subtle shrug passing between them. "We only follow orders, sir," Mary said simply. Then they turned and continued on their way.
Roman remained where he was for a second, his mind already moving ahead of him. Two maids? Why? His jaw tightened slightly. Then he turned and moved, faster this ti, cutting ahead of them toward his room, his chest rising and falling with sothing that wasn’t quite anger, maybe more curiosity.
—
Minutes earlier...
Inside the room, Estelle’s hand lingered on the intercom, her fingers resting lightly against the cool surface as a sigh slipped from her lips. The room was still.
Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, back to the spot where she and Roman had just sat, where the cara had been, where everything had felt real. Her stomach twisted and then anger followed, slow and sharp, curling through her chest.
"Why did you think it was anything more than make-believe?" she murmured, a bitter scoff escaping as she shook her head at herself. "Why would I expect a cocky hockey player to be honest about anything?" Her lips pressed together. "He just used ."
The words lingered in the air, heavier than she intended.
Estelle closed her eyes, just for a mont, trying to steady the weight pressing down on her chest, but it didn’t lift. Instead, a voice cut through her thoughts. Is that what your mother told you? Or did Henry tell you that? And her eyes snapped open instantly.
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