Beneath Her Bastard Boss

Chapter 64

Roman took his promise to handle things personally very seriously.

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By late Tuesday afternoon, Blair found herself curled into the oversized leather chair in his home office, watching him argue with a florist like it was a hostile corporate takeover.

“How many fucking times?” Roman snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose, the phone pressed to his car. “No pink. She doesn’t like pink. I don’t like pink. Nobody here likes pink. Stick to whites, cream, greens–anything but fucking pink.”

Blair tried to smother her grin behind her hand. There was something deeply satisfying about watching Roman Kingston, this powerful, put–together man… losing his mind over flower arrangements. And for her.

She sat quietly, letting that realization settle. Roman knew she didn’t like pink. It was such a small thing. But he’d remembered. She wasn’t sure she’d ever said it out loud, not directly. Not to him.

Dan, on her last birthday, had bought her a blush pink satin robe and told her it “matched her skin tone.” It didn’t matter if it match her skin tone when she didn’t like pink.

Roman, who’d barely known her, had picked up on something Dan never did. The difference cut sharper than she expected.

He ended the call with a sharp “Just fix it,” then tossed the phone down with a frustrated sigh. He looked exhausted. Tense.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this instead of eloping?” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Because you insisted on doing it properly,” she said, stretching her legs out, bare feet tucked beneath her. “If I had my way, we’d already be married barefoot on a beach somewhere far away from everyone. Like a Pacific Island, drinking cocktails.”

Roman shot her a look. “Now you tell me.”

She laughed, a real one this time, and it settled deep in her chest. Despite everything, she felt good. Whole. For the first time. in weeks, the anxiety wasn’t screaming in her ears. It was still there, but quieter. Manageable. How could it not still be there?. Someone was trying to kill her.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I like that you’re here. Even if you are mocking me.”

“I like that you’re doing this.” She said it softly, fingers tracing along the armrest of the chair. “Not that you’re torturing florists, but… that you care. That this matters to you. That you know what colors I dislike.”

He blinked like she’d surprised him. “Of course I care,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t.”

The way he said it–low, unadorned, unshakeable–it hit her harder than any love letter ever could have. He didn’t say pretty things. He just told the truth. She’d take that every time.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“About marrying you?”

he said, dryly. “About

took a beat, genuinely thinking it through. “A little, maybe. But it’s not the wedding that

His brow furrowed.

that we haven’t figured it out. I hate that feeling of waiting

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16:17 Wed, 18 Jun

Chapter 64

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came around the desk. He perched on the edge right in front of her, knees brushing hers.

it finished. I want

chin, lifting her face. “Soon. I swear

She exhaled slowly. “Good.”

quiet, the silence not uncomfortable–just heavy with everything unsaid. Her fingers brushed along his wrist, grounding herself in the feel

shifted slightly. “Have you thought

She looked up. “What?”

“You carrying my baby?”

warmed her. Not soft and romantic. It was heavier

didn’t look away. “It was a subject of conversation. Not exactly a

twitched. “We haven’t exactly been

out a shaky

“Does that scare you?”

she didn’t know–but because she didn’t want to get it wrong. “No. Not really. Maybe a little.

thumb softly across it. “You

this second. But… yes. Soon. With

softened. The Roman most people didn’t get to see–hers. “Good,” he said quietly. “Because I want that too.

dropping her forehead to his chest. “You are such

arms around her. “You keep forgetting that’s part of

“Keep telling yourself that.”

held her a moment longer, the tension in his frame easing. “Dinner tomorrow

groaned. “They’re going to think we’re