Five-star Quality
Chapter 112: Five-star Quality
The moment Penny introduced herself, my stomach twisted with a mix of anger, suspicion, and heat. I forced a smile as I shook her hand. "Savannah," I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
Roman’s hand slid around my waist, possessive, grounding me. "My fiancée," he added, his tone deliberate, making my chest swell with warmth. Penny’s eyes flicked to us, her piercing blue gaze appraising, unshaken. Her lips curled into a subtle, knowing smile. Like a villain.
"Fiancée? Hmm. Are you still pretending for the wedding situation, Roman? Or are you back to being just friends… with benefits?" The words dripped with condescension, and my chest tightened.
How come she knew so much about us when I know nothing about her? Just who is she to Roman?
Roman’s arm tightened around me, firm, and unwavering. "We’re not pretending, Penny. I’m in love with Savannah. We’re engaged. For real this time." His words cut through the tension like a knife.
I felt pride, but also an undercurrent of insecurity. Penny’s gaze lingered on us for a moment longer, before shifting to her bag. That familiar confidence made my stomach knot.
“How's the little girl anyways?” She asked, eyes focused solely on my boyfriend.
“Emily's doing great.” Roman replied. “Thanks for asking.”
Then it all made sense.
I remembered suddenly—she was the lawyer Roman had called back in New Hope when my sister’s baby daddy threatened to take Emily away from us. Ryan. His own brother. Roman had kept the situation contained then, but Penny had been at the center, orchestrating legal maneuvers and finding dirt on Ryan.
My pulse quickened. She knew him far too well.
"I brought food," Penny said casually, unbothered by the undercurrent of tension nor my presence here. "You never eat properly when you bury yourself in work." Her tone was light, airy, but precise. As if they've done this countless times.
I've known him for a long time and I've never walked in on her inside his office.
Roman’s voice, low and playful, cut through the room. "I already smelled something delicious when my fiancée walked in." His eyes met mine, and I felt a flush of heat that chased away some of the tension. “I'll have whatever she's having.”
I fumbled with my bag and pulled out the aromatic takeout I had brought. "I brought Mexican—"
"Mexican?" Penny laughed, a sound both sharp and cultured. She arched a brow at Roman. "Roman, you remember the last time we had Mexican food together, don’t you? You swore you’d never touch it again."
Shame and anger coiled in my stomach. I forced my fingers to release my grip on the containers, holding my smile in place.
“Oh… he never mentioned that to me.”
Penny unzipped her bag, revealing sleek containers filled with Italian cuisine, the rich aroma filling the office. "Chef Antonio’s special. Your favorite, Roman. Five-star quality."
I felt a pang of insecurity, but Roman ignored her offering. He picked up a taco from my takeout, lifting it to his mouth, and his eyes locked on Penny’s without a flicker. "This looks perfect to me, Penny."
My chest swelled with pride, even as my stomach twisted with a mix of jealousy and relief. He was deliberately drawing a line. Which I was extremely grateful for.
Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he lifted another taco toward Penny. "Here, try this. It’s really good."
Penny wrinkled her nose. "No thanks… tacos aren’t really my thing. They don't get along well with my stomach" The words, clipped and precise, stung sharper than she probably intended.
Roman laughed softly, insisting, "Come on, it’s really good. Don’t be rude just because it’s not Chef Anthony."
After a moment of reluctance, Penny took a small bite, her expression softening only because Roman had offered it. I felt a surge of anger, seeing him feed her in that intimate, playful way. My hands tightened around my own taco, the heat of jealousy burning through me.
Why does he even do that? I thought. Does he enjoy seeing me squirm?
Roman caught my gaze, his eyes darkening with mischief. He handed me a taco from my own container, leaning close. "Savannah knows me best," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The warmth of his words grounded me, and I took a careful bite, trying not to let Penny’s presence shake me.
This was my boyfriend's office, and she's not going to bully me out of it.
As I chewed, I noticed Penny casually shifting topics, effortlessly steering the conversation toward New Hope. She spoke with intimate familiarity, referencing the legal maneuvering during the incident with my sister.
"When we drafted the temporary guardianship papers, I had to fight against Ryan’s claims—quite the headache, wasn’t it, Roman?” She chuckled. “All that trouble, only for her to be content with being a mistress. Pity."
My stomach knotted further. How dare she speak of my sister that way?
Roman cleared his throat. “Let's respect her decision, Penny.”
“Okay. Okay.” She raised her hands. “I didn't mean to sound rude. It's just… Some things surprise me. That's all.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn't care if she saw it. If she's being rude, I can too.
Her familiarity with Roman’s family, the ease with which she spoke about his brothers and the tangled legal web, sent waves of jealousy and suspicion rolling through me.
She knew him in ways I didn’t. She knew him too well.
Roman’s attention, however, remained split. He nodded and replied, but each time his words lingered on me—light touches on my hand, small glances, protective gestures. It was subtle, but deliberate. He was showing Penny, without words, that I belonged in this space.
Perhaps she's a scorned or dejected ex-lover? If yes, I don't blame Roman. She's mildly insufferable.
Penny continued, her voice smooth and controlled. "And the paternity issue—you know, with your stepbrother—could have been a real disaster without the recordings we retrieved from her phone. She's a sneaky one."
Stepbrother?! Roman had a stepbrother?! Why didn’t he tell me?!
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. She knew too much about him. She knew his family. She knew his world in ways I hadn’t yet. And the intimacy in her tone, the casualness—it made my stomach churn with unease.
I focused on my taco, chewing slowly, trying to calm the whirl of emotions. Roman’s fingers brushed mine briefly, grounding me. "Are you okay, my love?" he asked softly.
I nodded, though my hands trembled slightly. "I’m fine," I murmured, my voice steadier than I felt.
Penny, unfazed, continued unpacking her food and talking with Roman, casually referencing strategies and contingencies from the different cases that he was aware about, as if she had always been part of his inner circle. Each word pricked at my nerves, but Roman never let his focus drift. He fed me a bite of my taco, kissed my temple, and smiled.
My stomach twisted again when Penny gestured to the Italian dishes. "Roman, come have a bite of your favourite Chef's new special. I had them prepared this morning. You must try them."
He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk on his lips. "No, thank you, Penny. I’m enjoying Savannah’s food." The words were quiet but deliberate, meant to claim, to reinforce, and to protect me in this awkward triangle.
I felt a flush of pride and relief, but also a prickling anger at Penny’s audacity, at her comfort around him, at her knowledge of his life. She had obviously been here before me, and her presence was a sharp reminder that Roman’s world was bigger than ours, but he had chosen me.
Roman’s phone buzzed on the desk. Penny’s eyes flicked to it before he even reached for it.
“That's your secretary leaving for her coffee break.” She predicted.
He smiled. “Bingo.”
My pulse spiked. Her familiarity with him, his life, even his messages—it was unnerving. I stiffened in my chair, my heart racing. She had been in his orbit long before me, knew things I couldn’t begin to guess, and yet Roman’s attention remained unwavering.
Still Penny’s presence lingered like a shadow, a reminder that Roman’s world was intricate and dangerous, and that there were corners of him I had yet to claim. My fingers tightened around my taco again, the flavors suddenly bitter with anxiety and possessive longing.
The game had just begun.