Roman’s POV
The moment Avah left the office, I turned to face my grandfather. He was leaning back in his chair, his piercing gaze fixed on me like he was evaluating a chess piece. The silence between us stretched, heavy and charged.
"You don’t trust her," I said, breaking the tension.
His lips twitched, almost in amusement. "I don’t trust anyone, Roman. You should know that by now."
"Then why this sudden insistence on marriage?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended. "Yesterday, you were questioning her worth, and today you want me to bind myself to her legally. Why?"
He sighed, leaning forward. "Because she’s not what she seems."
My brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
"There’s more to that girl than meets the eye. She has connections, ones even she doesn’t know about. Marrying her will secure your future, Roman. It will protect this family."
"Connections? What kind of connections?"
"That’s not for you to know yet." His tone brooked no argument. "Just know that I am doing this for your benefit."
I laughed bitterly. "You expect me to believe this has nothing to do with you? You’re meddling in my life again because you can’t let go of control."
His eyes narrowed. "If I wanted to control you, boy, I would have forced you to marry years ago. This is different. That girl is important, Roman, and you’d be a fool to let her slip away."
I wanted to argue, to push back against his cryptic reasoning, but something in his voice made me pause. He wasn’t just ordering me around, there was genuine concern there. My grandfather rarely showed emotion, and when he did, it was worth paying attention to.
Still, the thought of marrying someone I barely knew didn’t sit right with me. "What if she doesn’t want this?" I asked.
"She will," he said firmly. "Once she sees the benefits, she’ll agree."
"And if she doesn’t?"
"Then you will have to convince her," he said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
\---
Later That Day.....
Driving Avah home was quieter than I’d expected. She seemed lost in thought, staring out the window as the city blurred past. I wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but something held me back. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at the edges of my conscience.
When we reached her apartment, I made sure she got inside and locked the door before I left. It was a small gesture, but it felt important. Protecting her wasn’t just about contracts or marriages, it was something I couldn’t quite put into words.
\---
The Next Morning.....
When I arrived at her apartment, she looked different,more hesitant, more guarded. I greeted her with a smile, but she seemed distracted.
While we sat in the office, I watched her read through the contract and I couldn’t help but study her face. Her brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn’t skimming it, she was reading every word.
She was smarter than I’d realized.
"Are you ready to sign the contract now?" I asked when she reached the final page. My voice sounded calm, but inside, I was anything but.
Her hesitation didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was the pang of unease I felt as I watched her deliberate. I wasn’t used to feeling... uncertain.
"Did you write this?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
"It was approved by me, yes," I admitted.
"Why?"
Her question caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected her to challenge me like this.
"Because I want you to feel safe," I said. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either.
She didn’t look convinced. Her fingers hovered over the pen, her eyes darting back to the contract. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the doubt and fear warring with something else, something I couldn’t quite identify.
In that moment, I realized how much I wanted her to say yes. Not because of my grandfather, or the contract, or the supposed connections she had. I wanted her to agree because, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted her in my life.
I watched her fingers tremble slightly as she hovered over the pen. Her hesitation was palpable, and it stirred something unfamiliar in me, a mixture of impatience and unease. I wanted her to say yes, but not because of my grandfather's agenda or the benefits listed in the contract. It was something more personal.
"Avah," I said softly, leaning forward. Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and uncertain. "If there’s something you’re not sure about, tell me. I don’t want you to feel forced into this."
She blinked, clearly taken aback by my words. "Forced? Isn't that what this is?"
Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but there was a weight to her question that hit me harder than I expected. She wasn’t wrong. This entire situation was orchestrated and unnatural. Yet, for reasons I didn’t fully understand, it didn’t feel wrong to me.
"It doesn’t have to be," I said after a moment. "This can be... different. If you let it."
She frowned, her gaze dropping back to the contract. "Different how?"
I hesitated. How could I explain something I didn’t fully understand myself? "I’m not saying this is ideal. But I think we could make it work, on our own terms."
Her lips pressed together as she considered my words. "You don’t even know me," she said quietly.
"I know enough," I countered, leaning back slightly. "You are strong. You are not afraid to speak your mind, even in uncomfortable situations. And you don’t take crap from anyone, not even me."
A small, almost reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but it disappeared just as quickly.
"And what if I want more than just ‘making it work’?" she asked.
The question caught me off guard, but I didn’t let it show. "Then we’ll figure it out," I said firmly. "Together."
She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a soft sigh and picked up the pen.
Her hand hovered over the line for what felt like an eternity. Then, with a deep breath, she signed her name.
A strange sense of relief washed over me as I watched her write the final letter. It wasn’t just the contract being signed, it was the beginning of something. What that was, I couldn’t say, but I knew I wasn’t going to let her regret this decision.
When she finally put the pen down, she looked up at me, her expression a mix of determination and vulnerability.
"Let’s see if you can keep your promise," she said softly.
I nodded, my resolve hardening. "I will."
Even as I said the words, a voice in the back of my mind whispered that this was only the beginning and that the hardest part was yet to come.