His Father Bought Me-Chapter 36: She’s Following My Plan

The words landed hard between them.

Roman’s jaw clenched instantly, and he felt tension snapping through him as his eyes darkened. "Be careful what you say," he said, his voice cold as he caught her wrist before she could turn away.

Lena looked down briefly at his hand, then back up at him, her gaze unyielding. "And what are you going to do if I’m not?" she asked, a clear challenge threading through her tone.

Roman stepped closer, the space between them closing again, his presence pressing in. "Are you trying to provoke me?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low growl as his eyes locked onto hers. "Or do you just not know when to stop?"

Lena let out a short scoff, shaking her head as if he’d only just begun to understand. "You haven’t even heard the worst part," she said.

Before he could react, she stepped closer again, rising slightly onto her toes. The faint brush of her breath ghosted against his ear. "Your father has an offer for me," she murmured.

Roman’s throat felt dry as the words detonated in his ear.

"And you should know," she added softly, her voice dipping lower, "I don’t plan to reject it." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Who knows?" she continued, her tone sharp. "It might even be your place." Then she pulled back just enough to look at him.

Roman’s eyes widened before he could stop himself, the reaction slipping through. "You can’t trust him," he said quickly, the words coming faster now. "Whatever he’s offering, it’s not good." His chest rose sharply. "You can’t take it," he pressed, his voice tightening. "Promise me."

Lena blinked once, then smiled. "Promise you?" she echoed, the amusement in her voice thin and cutting. "Oh, please, don’t make me laugh." She stepped back, putting space between them again.

Roman dragged a hand through his hair, frustration building inside him as his thoughts raced faster than he could organize them. "You need to listen to me," he said, his tone urgent now. "He’s the enemy."

Lena tilted her head slightly. "The enemy..." she repeated, almost thoughtfully. Then her gaze sharpened. "Or your enemy?" She folded her arms loosely, watching him. "What’s that saying again?" she went on, a faint, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "The enemy of my enemy is my what?"

Roman exhaled sharply, tension coiling tighter in his chest. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Lena didn’t answer, she just turned, the soft swish of her outfit breaking the stillness as she moved toward the door. "Since you won’t leave," she said over her shoulder, her tone light, almost careless, "I might as well wait outside for Magnus."

Her hand reached for the handle, but Roman moved first, and in one swift motion, he caught her wrist and pulled her back, her body colliding lightly against his chest. A sharp gasp escaped her, the sound was quick and unguarded.

Roman tightened his grip around her wrist. "I need you to leave," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Lena looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for a moment. "And why would I do that?" she asked.

"Because I said so." The answer came steady, controlled, but rough around the edges.

Lena held his gaze for a beat longer before her expression hardened. "No," she said simply, pushing against his chest, breaking free from his hold, taking a step back. "You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore," she added, her voice colder now. "You lost that right."

Roman’s jaw tightened, the tension sitting heavy in his face. For a moment, anger flickered, but he pushed it down. He knew that anger wouldn’t get him anywhere. He stepped forward instead, slower this time, placing his hands on his waist as he exhaled, the breath leaving him in a quiet rush of frustration.

"Listen, Lena," he began, his voice controlled. "I know I owe you an explanation, but you also know I don’t do explanations."

Lena didn’t respond. She just crossed her arms over her chest, her posture closing off, her gaze fixed on him, waiting, but unwilling to meet him halfway.

Roman swallowed, then lowered his voice, trying to pull her in. "One thing you need to know," he said, quieter now, "and you can’t repeat it to anyone—" He hesitated, then exhaled. "Everything you saw," he continued, his eyes holding hers, "it wasn’t what you think," he said quickly. "That? What you saw? It wasn’t real. Not the way it looked."

Lena’s brows pulled together instantly, confusion flashing across her face. She shook her head slightly. "Not real?" she let out a quiet laugh. "Then you should’ve pulled away," she said.

Roman nodded once, stepping closer, closing the space between them inch by inch. "I get it if you don’t," he said, his tone softer now. "I do." He paused again, like he was bracing himself for what he was about to say, then the words came anyway. "You’re the only woman for me," he said, the sentence feeling heavier than it should. "The only one I want. The only one who fits."

Something about it didn’t sit right, but he didn’t take it back.

Lena’s expression didn’t soften; if anything, it sharpened. "Then why," she paused quietly, lifting her hand and pointing at her finger. "Why is the Whitehall ring on her hand, and not here?" Her eyes locked onto his, waiting, demanding.

Roman’s mind raced too fast. He needed something convincing, something immediate. "That doesn’t matter," he said quickly, though his chest felt tight. "Not the way you think it does." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I’ll tell you a secret," he added.

Lena’s eyes widened just a fraction, curiosity slipping through the cracks. "A secret?" she repeated, her brows knitting together. "It had better be a good one, Roman, because my patience is already paper-thin."

Roman moved close enough that his words barely needed sound. "Estelle asked for that ring," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "In exchange for working with me." The lie came easier now.

"To help me get out from under my father. To play along and make him think she’s on his side."

The words tasted bitter, but he didn’t stop. "She’s following my plan," he said, the words came out steady, but they didn’t feel steady.