His Father Bought Me

Vance sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, the engine idling softly beneath him. The faint vibration hummed through the frame of the car, steady, almost soothing, but his focus was anything but.

His eyes were locked on Roman’s car, parked a building away from Lena’s place. Right on schedule. His phone buzzed, and Vance glanced down, read Magnus’s message in a second, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Consider it done, boss.

When he looked up again, Roman was already out of the car, standing at the door. His shoulders were tense, his head turning slightly as if checking his surroundings while he waited.

Vance leaned back into his seat, one hand resting loosely against the steering wheel. "Guess you prefer to learn the hard way," he murmured under his breath.

He picked up his phone and dialed, pressing it to his ear, his gaze never leaving Roman. The line clicked almost immediately.

"City News, Stella speaking," a bright, professional female voice came through. "How may I assist you today?"

Vance exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Roman shift his weight from one foot to the other. "I have an anonymous tip for you," he said, his tone calm. "It’s about Roman Whitehall."

There was a brief pause on the other end. He could hear movement, papers shuffling, the sharp click of a pen. Then her voice returned, a little quicker now. "Please, go ahead."

Vance’s lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "He’s standing outside Lena Torres’s apartment as we speak," he said. "If you get here quickly enough, you might catch him and find out why he left his wife at home to be here."

A small, excited breath came through the line. "Oh, this is interesting. Where exactly are they—?"

The door opened, and Vance’s gaze sharpened.

Lena stepped aside, letting Roman in. The door closed behind him with a quiet click that somehow felt louder than it should have.

Vance’s expression hardened. "I’ll text you the details," he said, and then he ended the call before she could respond. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the door. Then he dialed again. Magnus picked up almost immediately.

"It’s done, sir," Vance said.

There was a brief pause.

"Make sure they get there before you leave," Magnus’s voice came through, low and controlled.

"Understood." The line went dead.

Vance lowered the phone slowly, his gaze drifting back to the apartment door. His fingers tapped once against his thigh, restless now. For a fleeting second, something like curiosity flickered through his eyes, and then it was gone.

He settled back into his seat, waiting.

—

Inside, the air felt stale, like the room had been holding its breath.

Lena stood a few steps away from the door, her chest rising and falling as she stared at Roman. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "I told you it was over between us."

Roman closed the door behind him with a soft click, his jaw tight. "Maybe I wanted to hear you say that to my face," he said, his voice low as he stepped closer. "When it’s just you and me."

He reached for her, his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her in. "When I am—"

He froze. The words hit him without warning, sharp and clear in his mind. I don’t want to hear her name, see it on your screen, or smell her on you when you walk in.

Roman stiffened. Then he pulled away abruptly, like he’d touched something that burned.

Lena’s brows knit together, confusion flashing across her face. "What’s wrong?" she asked, studying him.

Roman shook his head quickly, dragging a hand over his face. "Nothing," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. He exhaled and forced himself to focus as he sat down. "Listen, I know you told my father what I said. And that has me wondering."

He looked at her, his gaze sharpening. "Does that mean you’re betraying me?"

Lena held his stare for a second, then her lips curved slowly. She stepped closer, easing herself onto his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Of course, I’m not betraying you, how could you even think that?" she said softly, her fingers brushing over his collar.

Roman’s body went rigid at her touch.

But Lena didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t care. "I just wanted your attention," she continued, her voice light, teasing. "And now I have it."

Roman swallowed, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. "Why don’t you sit over there?" he said, clearing his throat. "So we can talk."

Lena shook her head, a small laugh slipping past her lips. "No. I’ve missed you," she said, her voice dipping slightly. "And there’s something you need to know."

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his skin. "But first," her eyes flicked to his lips. "I want a kiss. I missed you. I’m the one you want. Remember?"

Roman’s throat went dry. He leaned in. He almost did, because this was Lena, this was what he chose. But the moment her breath touched his lips, Estelle’s voice cut through him.

What you do outside this marriage is your business, and what I do is mine. His jaw tightened, and suddenly, all he could see, clearer than anything in front of him, was her. The way she had looked at him. The way her voice had hardened as she laid down the rules.

Before he could react, Lena leaned in, closing the distance. Roman turned his head sharply, and her lips brushed his neck instead, leaving behind a faint smear of lipstick.

He stood up immediately, stepping away from her like he needed space to breathe. His hand moved to his collar, brushing at the spot as if he could wipe the feeling off. "Just tell me what you wanted to say," he said, his voice clipped, distracted.

Lena stared at him, her confusion deepening. "What’s wrong with you?" she asked.

"Nothing," Roman replied too quickly. "Just tell me."

Lena’s expression hardened, something sharper slipping into her eyes. "Is this because of her?" she asked. "Is she taking my place already?" A scoff followed. "She can’t even stand up to me."

Roman’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t answer.

Lena stepped closer again, softer this time, her fingers brushing his arm, then lifting to his face. "I’m the one you want," she murmured. "Remember?"

Roman flinched. He caught her wrist gently but firmly and moved her hand away. "I shouldn’t have come here," he said, the words heavy, final.

He turned toward the door, his steps quick, almost unsteady, like he was trying to outrun something closing in on him.

"But you haven’t even heard what I—"

Roman pulled the door open, and the sharp, rapid click of cameras cut her off instantly, and light flooded the doorway.

He froze on the threshold, not at the cameras, but at the timing. His chest rose and fell hard as flashes exploded around him.