Chapter 16 - COLD FIRES|
My breath caught in my throat.
The air between us charged instantly, thick with an attraction that had been building since that rainy night in the basement.
"What else would we be, Roman?" I asked softly, my heart thumping against my ribs.
"When you ran into that burning house for me," Roman murmured, leaning down so his lips were inches from my ear, "you stopped being just a partner. You became the only woman I’ve looked at in ten years."
I turned my face slightly, our lips almost touching.
"I spent eight years being told I was too much, Roman," I whispered. "Too intense. Too ambitious."
"They were weak men who were terrified of your light," Roman growled softly, his hand resting gently against the small of my back. "I don't want you quieter, Claire. I want you ruling this city beside me."
Before I could answer, the heavy double doors of the gallery swung open.
A man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped inside—not one of Roman's guards, and not one of my high-society guests.
He was an older man, European, with silver hair and a distinct signet ring on his pinky finger bearing a crest I recognized instantly.
The Royal House of Vance.
My heart stopped.
The silver-haired man walked straight through the crowded room, stopping three feet from where Roman and I stood.
"Claire Harlow?" the man asked in a thick British accent.
May you like
"Yes," I said, stepping forward.
"I am Lord Julian Vance," the man announced loudly enough for the surrounding guests to hear. "I have traveled from London to inform you that your late father's estate was never fully settled."
