Exposed at the Gala: My Boss, My Boyfriend

[ Got yelled at again. Send me a pic of your abs to make me feel better. ] I texted my online boyfriend for comfort. [ And Venmo me five hundred bucks for Ladurée macarons.

I'm gonna eat one box and throw the other straight in the trash. ] The next second, my messages flashed right across the massive projector screen at the company's annual gala.

Dead silence dropped over the entire ballroom. Our CEO—a man famous for his razorsharp tongue, icecold demeanor, and buttonedup restraint—calmly finished the money transfer.

Then, he replied: [ Don't be mad, baby.

Wait for me to get home, and we'll trashtalk him together. ] Me: [ ? ] Chapter 1 [ Wanna hop on a call and watch a movie, baby? ] When my online boyfriend's message popped up—I was sitting in the audience, listening to the company executives take turns spouting absolute garbage at the annual gala. [ Can't right now. ] I replied. [ I'm stuck at this damn annual gala, and there's no WiFi.

If I stream a movie now, my landlord will be tossing my bags out of the apartment tomorrow. ] [ They're making you do a gala on a weekend? ] [ Right?! ] Just talking about it woke me right up. [ Is management out of their damn minds?

Working at a gaming company is exhausting enough. ] [ Dragging us in for a meeting on the weekend—do the lives of us bottomtier workers mean absolutely nothing? ] [ I'm working overtime too.

I'll keep you company. ] I slouched back in my seat, my frustration instantly deflating. [ You work too hard. ] My online boyfriend and I met playing games during my senior year of high school.

We've known each other for years, but we've never met in person. But I knew for a fact he was way busier than me. A few years ago, we used to stay on calls while studying.

I'd sketch my designs, and he'd study programming languages and algorithms. Half the time, I'd fall asleep, wake up hours later, and he'd still be awake. Then he started working.

It turned into endless business trips, international flights, and backtoback meetings. He didn't have a single day off. [ It's not that bad, ] he texted back. [ Good news, though.

I'm back in town. Once I get through the next few days and stabilize the domestic business lines here, I'll come find you. ] [ I bought you a fondant cake.

I'll have someone deliver it to your apartment. Text me when your gala is over. ] Come find you. My chest tightened, my heart skipping a literal beat at those three words.

My thumbs flew across the screen. [ Okay. ] A second later, a photo popped up. It was taken in a lounge area, bathed in warm yellow lighting.

A long, elegant hand gripped a gift box tied with a silver ribbon. The cuff of a charcoalgray suit jacket rode up his wrist.

Against his pale skin, the sapphire dial of a heavy watch caught the light—screaming old money and absolute power. A trap. A blatant, shameless thirst trap.

Over the years we'd been dating online, he definitely knew what he was doing.

He rarely sent full face pics, but every now and then, I'd get a shot of his hands, his Adam's apple, or a tight shirt stretched over his abs. An absolute saint. Give me more.

I was practically kicking my feet under the table. A sudden gasp ripped through the front row. "Brooke, look!" My coworker's nails dug into my arm. "It's Roman! He's actually here!

I thought he hated these things and wasn't showing up tonight!" I followed her line of sight.

A tall young man was taking the stage from the side stairs with long, confident strides. Broad shoulders, narrow waist.

His perfectly tailored charcoalgray suit clung to him, emphasizing the sharp lines of his body and his impossibly long legs.

The host and his assistant trailed right behind him like shadows, respectfully handing over the microphone. "Good evening. I'm Roman, the new CTO. I just got back from overseas.

I'll be taking over the technical business lines." "Aside from that, I'll also be overseeing a portion of the art department." He paused, his long fingers wrapping around the mic stand.

His voice was a low, dark rumble. "I have no idea why an annual gala was scheduled on a weekend." "So, I don't have much to say.

Everyone, finish watching the last presentation, eat your dinner, and go home early." The entire ballroom dropped into dead silence for a split second before erupting into massive cheers. "Oh my god, he's usually a brutal tyrant." My coworker practically had tears in her eyes. "Why is he being so gentle today?" "And looking so damn domestic in that suit!

I want to jump him!" I was too far back in the crowd. I couldn't clearly see his face. Chapter 2 "Is he famous?" I asked. "He is the big boss who parachuted in a while ago.

You don't remember?" my coworker whispered back. "All those brutal revision notes on our concept art lately? He wrote them." My brain shortcircuited.

I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "That is the guy?

The one who left comments on my sketches saying I draw like a brainless troll, and that cheap labor never produces anything good?" "The one who told me if I could not finish it, I should just get out, because if I got hit by a car tomorrow, I would not need to finish it anyway?" My coworker offered a tight, sympathetic smile. "Yep." I gripped the edges of my phone, my knuckles turning stark white.

What kind of absolute garbage was that? A face that gorgeous, but a mouth that toxic. Is he a damn lizard person?

How can a warmblooded, carbonbased lifeform type out something so icecold?

I immediately opened the chat with my online boyfriend and started venting. [ Life is meaningless when actual toads are out here critiquing humanity. ] [ I just found out the new boss who kept me awake with pure rage the other night is our new parachutedin CTO. ] [ Why is a CTO micromanaging the art department anyway, even if he has a design background? ] [ Did he eat some moldy pizza that rotted his brain? ] He was probably busy.

No reply. The more I thought about it, my jaw clamped down hard. [ Plus… I am a concept artist with over a hundred thousand followers.

It is not a massive number, but it is still a real following. ] [ What gives him the right to talk to me like that? I graduated from a toptier art academy.

I could draw better than him with my eyes closed and using my feet! ] [ You! Need! To! Comfort! Me! Now!

Send me a pic of your abs. ] [ And Venmo me five hundred bucks for Ladurée macarons. I am gonna eat one box and throw the other straight in the trash. ] Still nothing.

I took a deep breath. Held it. Could not hold it. My fingers hammered the keyboard. [ No, I demand revenge! ] [ I have decided.

I am initiating the Evil Corporate Sweetheart Protocol. ] [ From now on, whatever this lizard person says, I will praise him to the heavens.

Once his ego gets so inflated he loses his damn mind, I will deliver the fatal blow! ] [ …Why are you so quiet? ] [ Where did you go, hubby?

Say something, hubby! ] I was practically sparking friction on my screen. Suddenly, another massive gasp swept through the ballroom. It was deafening. I jerked my head up.

Up on the giant projector screen, right over the presentation slides, a massive string of chat logs had just popped up.

The most glaringly obvious lines were the very last ones: [ Venmo me five hundred bucks for Ladurée macarons. ] [ Say something, hubby! ] Over the roar of the crowd hooting and hollering.

Roman calmly unplugged the projector cable. His long fingers picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and hit send. The next second, my phone lit up.

ROMAN: [ Venmo Transfer: 5000.00. ] ROMAN: [ Don't be mad, baby.

Wait for me to get home, and we'll trashtalk him together. ] ROMAN: [ ^_^ ] Me: [ … ] Me: [ ?? ] The online boyfriend I had been dating for years, the man I treated like my actual husband… Appeared to be my evil new boss.

I desperately needed an oxygen tank to process reality. On the way home, my coworker was still spiraling. "I honestly can't believe Mr. Roman has a girlfriend.

The good ones really are off the market. His girl is eating so damn good!" "It is normal," someone else chimed in. "Old money families like his are all about arranged marriages.

They probably locked it down back in college. With a background like his, his girlfriend has to be some billionaire heiress." Heh. I let out a deadpan laugh in my head.

Not only was she not a billionaire heiress, she was the exact same girl he just insulted for drawing like a brainless troll.

Chapter 3 But… I racked my brain, trying to recall Roman's face.

Did my online boyfriend really look like that? [ Do you have a picture of Roman? ] I texted my coworker. [ Send it to me. ] [ Yeah, absolutely.

Sending it now. ] I received the photo, opened it, and zoomed in. And zoomed in again. I stared hard at Roman's face. How to put it? Icecold. Intense eyes. Sharp, chiseled jawline.

He was just gorgeous—the kind of flawless perfection that had no bad angles. But my online boyfriend never posed like this in the selfies he sent.

I tried to mentally overlap their faces, but the images just wouldn't align. Coworker: [ Well?

Gorgeous, right? ] I bit my lip: [ Yeah. ] Coworker: [ With a face that good, getting yelled at by him isn't even a big deal. ] That snapped me right out of my trance.

I practically screamed at my screen: [ Hell no! ] If they were the same person, then by default, that meant my own boyfriend was the one insulting me!

Damn it, I was the one who taught him the absolute basics of art! I would literally commit murder! Late into the night, I tossed and turned, tangling my legs in the sheets.

Unable to take it anymore, I grabbed my phone in the dark and texted him: [ Did you wear a charcoalgray suit today? ] He replied almost instantly. A voice message.

His voice was low, laced with a faint smile. "Yeah. You saw the cuff in the cake picture? I had a company event to attend, so I wore a suit.

Why are you still awake?" I gritted my teeth and pressed the record button. "How about… we don't wait until we meet?

Send me a picture right now." "Now?" He sounded slightly surprised. "I'm already out of my clothes." "Then send me a picture of you out of your clothes." "…" Oh, god, why.

I screamed internally.

Now that I was actually paying attention, their voices sounded terrifyingly similar! "Brooke." A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through the speaker. "Saying things like that to a grown man at this hour.

What kind of trouble are you trying to start?" "…" His voice was slightly raspy, the amusement bleeding into the words, instantly making it sound incredibly hot.

The tips of my ears burned. I slid further under the covers. "I just… want to see you." And just checking if you're that coldblooded bastard of a boss.

I gathered my courage and asked, "Can we just meet tomorrow?" "It doesn't have to be formal.

A dessert shop is fine." "Of course." A slight pause on his end, his tone softening into something incredibly gentle. "Then Brooke needs to go to sleep now.

Tomorrow afternoon, we'll go get crème brûlée together." "Okay!" Perfect chance to see exactly who the hell was hiding under that mask.

The next morning, I did my makeup early and slipped into a cute dress. Standing outside the dessert shop, my stomach suddenly twisted into tight knots.

If he really was my boss… do I keep dating him, or do I dump his ass right on the spot? My pulse hammered against my ribs as I pushed open the heavy glass doors.

The very next second, my eyes locked onto a familiar silhouette sitting by the window. Tall. Perfectly tailored suit.

Sitting there with the rigid, flawless posture of a literal soldier. Most importantly—it was the exact same sharplydressed back from the annual gala yesterday.

Me: "…" Pure reflex kicked in. I spun around on my heel instantly. What the hell was Roman doing here?! Was he actually my online boyfriend? The sky was literally falling.

Did he see me? Which way should I run? A second later, my phone buzzed in my hand. Chapter 4 ROMAN: [ Is Brooke here yet? I'm sitting by the window.

I'm the tallest one here ^_^ ] Me: [ … ] Stop with the smiley face, bro, I'm literally terrified. Are you actually my boss?

The truth was breathing right down my neck, and I was sweating bullets. Back when my online boyfriend first told me his real name, my focus had been entirely on our game.

I had just brushed him off with a quick, "Uhhuh, baby, yeah, okay," without actually registering a single word. His chat handle was CHEN, and I was too lazy to ever change it.

Over time, I just naturally assumed his last name was Chen. But now that I think about it… CHEN wasn't a last name. It was the "Cheng" from his Chinese name.

I stared dead at the screen, my fingers trembling uncontrollably over the keyboard as I frantically typed back: [ II'm stuck in traffic.

Still on the way. ] The screen showed his typing bubble. A moment later, it popped up again. But no message came through.

Just as I was heavily debating whether to push the glass door open and make a run for it, a low male voice suddenly sounded from directly behind me. "Brooke?" I whipped my head around like I'd been electrocuted. "Huh?" Roman's unfairly gorgeous face filled my vision.

Cold, untouchable, all sharp angles and an overwhelming, suffocating presence. "MMr.

Roman!" I quickly shoved my phone behind my back, way too much of a coward to actually meet his eyes.

I stammered for half a second before nervously choking out, "You know me?" Roman's natural aura was freezing.

His face remained completely blank as he stared down at me for a few agonizing seconds. His voice was ice. "I don't. I just saw you carrying the company tote." "…" I looked down.

In my rush to get out of the apartment today, I had indeed grabbed the company tote bag. Printed right on the strap was my name in huge, bold letters: BROOKE.

So… he had just read the tag. Not my actual name. Fuck. He almost scared me half to death. My racing heart finally settled a fraction.

I blurted out the first nonsense that came to mind, "I'm just here to buy something.

Are you waiting for someone?" "Yes." Roman glanced flatly at the expensive watch on his wrist. "And you?" he asked, his tone deadpan.

He paused, his voice not shifting a single decibel. "Don't tell me you're here for the crème brûlée." A literal bomb going off in the silence.

My heart, which had just settled, instantly shot right back up into my throat. "Crcrème brûlée? What crème brûlée! I'm here for an Americano!

I never eat crème brûlée, I never eat cake, I absolutely hate sweets!" "…" Roman stared at me, completely motionless.

A heavy halfsecond of silence ticked by. "Oh." His physical presence was too overpowering, the air pressure around him suffocatingly low.

I rubbed my nose frantically, my eyes darting everywhere. I wanted to run. I wanted to matrixdodge right past his legs and sprint for the hills. "Well then, Mr.

Roman, if you aren't busy, I'll just be going…" "Mhm." His tone was dismissive. But a second later, he dropped another bomb. "Can I see your bracelet?" Holy shit.

I forced a painfully bright, stiff smile. "Of course. No problem." It was a massive problem. My online boyfriend gave me this bracelet last winter.

I had kept it securely on my wrist ever since, never taking it off. And now, he was staring right at it.

I had no choice but to bite the bullet. "Here you go, Boss." A Cartier limited edition bracelet. I held it up to him, but Roman didn't take it.

He just stared intensely at my wrist with those dark, bottomless eyes of his.

He lowered his gaze, observing the metal for two agonizing seconds, looking incredibly thoughtful. "I bought that exact same bracelet for my wife." "It was a massive hit last year!

A total bestseller, tons of people have it." I immediately started kissing his ass to cover my tracks. "You bought it for your wife?

You have incredible taste!" "Oh." Roman coldly adjusted his suit cuff. "Never mind, then." "…" I threw up a middle finger in my head. Chapter 5 In the end, I basically bolted.

Escaping the coldblooded Boss Roman, I got home and opened my messages.

The very first thing that popped up was a string of texts from him: [ Baby, are you not here yet? ] [ Baby, did something happen? ] [ Why aren't you replying?

Do you want me to come find you? ] [ I'm heading to your apartment. Be there soon. ] Me: Holy shit. How did this guy have two completely different faces?

In person, he was an untouchable, icecold tyrant. Online, it was "baby" this and "baby" that. My fingers fumbled frantically over the screen as I replied: [ No, no!

You don't need to come over! ] [ Today is just completely insane. I suddenly got a massive headache and stomach cramps.

I can't even walk. ] [ I just popped two Ibuprofen and I'm playing dead in bed.

My phone died earlier, but I'm fine now. ] Roman replied instantly: [ Did you catch a cold from the weather drop? Is it bad? ] [ I'm almost at your place. What do you want to eat?

I'll bring it up. ] I sucked in a sharp breath, my back instantly snapping rigid. What the actual hell was happening? We literally just saw each other! [ Seriously, no!

I'm not home! III actually dragged myself to the urgent care clinic anyway! You won't even see me if you go to my place! ] I regretted it. I seriously regretted everything.

Over the last few years, there were a few times I wanted to meet up with Roman. But he was always flying all over the place, and our schedules never aligned.

So he had asked for my address, occasionally shipping over food and gifts. But now, he was back in the city. If he wanted to, he could literally just show up at my door.

If I had known, I never would have given him my damn address. [ Alright, baby. ] Roman sounded a little disappointed. [ Then get some rest.

If you need anything, just tell me and I'll be right there. Once you're rested up, we'll meet. ] Meet up. I was practically sweating bullets, bro. Let's definitely not meet.

You're just gonna tear into me again the second you see me. I stared at the chat for a long time, not replying.

I tapped open the chat with my best friend and sent a voice memo: "Hypothetically speaking, if I accidentally ended up dating my company's big boss, should I dump him?" My bestie practically resurrected from the dead: "Are you sleeping your way to the top?!" Me: … Me: "No!

Can you have a little faith in me?" I rubbed my forehead, suddenly having no idea how to explain this mess. "It just… happened. We're dating.

What do I do?" "Oh," my bestie said. "Depends on what tier of boss we're talking about." "Um… an executive partner on the exact same level as the CEO." "And you claim you aren't on the casting couch!

A big boss is a massive red flag. Guys at that level either have fiancées, or they're secretly married and just out here playing young girls.

Tell him to get lost!" "…" She took a breath to calm down, then asked, "But… is he hot?" "He…" Roman's face flashed through my mind again. And not just his face this time.

This afternoon at the shop, he was standing so close. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, his physical presence completely suffocating.

Whoever his girlfriend was… with a guy built like that hovering over her, she probably never even gets a glimpse of the ceiling at night… "He's gorgeous." I said with absolute certainty. "Like, runwaymodel tier." "That good?

Then sleep with him first!

You can't let an opportunity like that slip by!" she practically squealed. "You can always find another husband, but a gorgeous guy with an eightpack doesn't drop into your lap every day!

You meet up, and then—bam!" Me: "Bam!" I buried my face in my hands, groaning in pure agony. Chapter 6 Roman was only five years older than me.

Back when we first met, something was clearly going on with his family.

He would log online every single day to grind mobs for exactly thirty minutes, clocking in and out down to the exact second.

He fought with absolute brutality but rarely typed a single word. I messaged him every day.

Whenever he seemed ticked off, I would toss out some halfhearted comfort: [ You must have been tortured by those executives today. ] [ It's fine.

Come to me, I'll pay your bills. ] Turns out, he took it seriously. He started sending me a crazy amount of gifts. I figured he probably had a little bit of money. So what?

I had a little money too. But a net worth in the billions? That was a different story.

The gap between us was way too massive. [ Brooke, why aren't you replying to me. ] [ Are you asleep? ] [ Kisses, baby. ] Roman's messages popped up on my screen again.

I couldn't let go of his abs, but I absolutely did not have the guts to date my boss.

My fingers dug hard into the edge of my phone. [ If I'm not replying, it means my soul is currently wandering through outer space.

Call me again and I'll have the aliens abduct you. ] Roman sent a quick laugh track. [ Brooke. ] [ Cute. ] It wouldn't be cute for much longer.

Thinking about Roman's massive status, he easily could have a fiancée or another girlfriend tucked away somewhere. My stomach twisted into a heavy, cold knot.

And… That afternoon, at the dessert shop, he didn't use the word "girlfriend." He said "wife." He had never called me his wife online. What if… he actually had a real wife?

I tossed and turned all night. Just the thought of Roman completely ruined my motivation for work.

The next morning, the second I dropped into my cubicle chair, my coworker called my name. "The boss wants you up in the executive suite at noon." She paused, shooting me a look of pure pity. "Not the team lead.

Not the director. The new CTO." Me: "…" Me: ? I dragged my feet to the elevator, my pulse hammering against my ribs. Everyone in the company used aliases.

Roman shouldn't know I was Brooke yet. So, he was looking for the concept artist? What did he want? If he tore into my art one more time, I was seriously going to snap!

The next second, I knocked on the heavy double doors and slipped inside. "Mr. Roman." Roman turned around from the massive floortoceiling windows.

Thick streams of sunlight spilled over his broad shoulders. He raised a brow. "You." "Uh…" "Relax.

This is a personal matter." His long legs closed the distance as he took a seat behind his massive desk. "Your coworkers mentioned you have the best aesthetic sense in the entire department.

So, I need a favor." Me: ? Did you get amnesia? A few days ago you said I drew like a brainless troll. I mentally kicked his ass.

Roman kept his tone completely flat as he continued. "My wife's birthday is coming up. I was wondering if you could help me pick out a gift for her.

If you pick well, you'll be heavily compensated with a gift of your own." "Oh.

And if I don't pick well?" "Then you get a verbal thank you." "…" Half an hour later, Roman and I appeared at the highend luxury mall downtown.

The sales associates probably rarely saw a combination this weird—a heavily reluctant woman trailing behind a man who swiped his black card without blinking.

After one lap around the floor, my hands were full of heavy shopping bags, and I could barely keep up with his massive strides.

He walked in front, while I panted heavily from behind. "Mr… Mr.

Roman, slow down!" "I didn't want to waste too much of your time." Roman stopped in his tracks, glancing down at his watch. "Your lunch break is almost over." He actually cared about my time.

A tiny wave of warmth hit my chest. "It's fine…" "After all, you have to rush back to work this afternoon." "…" I mentally threw up my middle finger at him again.

Coldblooded capitalist bastard.

Chapter 7 "What is it?" He lifted his heavy eyelids, glancing over at me. "You don't look too thrilled." "Not at all!" I immediately forced a bright tone. "Solving problems for the boss is my absolute privilege!" "Are you pretending to solve my problems, while actually acting as an undercover corporate spy, ready to deliver a fatal blow at any moment?" "…" My smile completely froze.

You know way too much, bro. Billionaire executives don't need to be surfing the internet this heavily. "No, Mr.

Roman, I mean it." I aggressively hoisted the massive stack of Hermès bags higher onto my shoulder, forcing a painfully stiff smile. "I'm just genuinely jealous of you and your wife.

You two have such a great relationship." "Mhm." "You bought so many gifts and had me help pick them out… I didn't even get a chance to ask. How old is she?

What's her favorite color?" "I don't know. I've never met her." Roman's voice was a low rumble.

His incredibly long fingers smoothly pulled his phone from his pocket. "You inspired me. I'll call and ask her right now." The next second, the phone in my pocket vibrated wildly.

Me: ? No, bro. Why the hell are you skipping straight to the endgame without a warning? The dial tone buzzed heavily on Roman's end for a few agonizing seconds. No one picked up.

Looking completely deep in thought, he pointed a finger directly at my coat pocket. "Your phone seems to be ringing." He let his gaze drop to my hands, which were completely full of heavy shopping bags. "Do you want me to answer it for you?" he asked, his tone sounding deceptively helpful.

As he spoke, his large hand reached directly toward my pocket.

Every single hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. "No need!" I instantly leaped three meters away from him. "You—you heard wrong. That isn't a ringtone.

It's my alarm!" "Oh." Roman's voice was deadpan. "An alarm." "Exactly. An alarm to remind myself to work hard. Is there a problem?" Roman didn't say a single word.

Heavy silence dropped between us.

He just stared intensely down at me for several long seconds before his low voice rumbled, "Your name sounds incredibly similar to someone I know." "…It's totally normal for names to sound alike.

There are millions of people in this country, it's completely normal." Pure panic made my fingers aggressively rub the side of my nose as I started rambling absolute nonsense.

I knew it. Roman wasn't a damn idiot. He definitely suspected me! "Besides, Mr.

Roman." I widened my eyes, deliberately tossing out an attack. "I thought you were different from those other scumbag executives. How can you use such a cheap, cliché pickup line?

You have a literal wife, and you're still pulling this crap with your subordinates?" Roman: … Roman: ?

Any faint trace of warmth instantly vanished from his bottomless dark eyes, replaced by absolute frost. "Move. Now." His face was carved from pure ice.

Without giving me another glance, he spun on his heel and walked off with long, aggressive strides. Barely dodged a massive bullet. But I knew exactly how his brain worked.

Once Roman cooled off and thought about it, he would know I was playing dumb. Getting caught redhanded was only a matter of time.

Especially when, just a few days later, a massive pile of gift boxes got delivered straight to my door. It was the exact same stuff I picked out with Roman at the boutique.

Identical down to the very last piece. Me: "…" I stared dead at the boxes, completely spiraling into deep thought.

If I had half a brain cell, I should immediately break up with Roman, block every single piece of his contact info, burn the bridge forever, and deny straight to my grave that I was the Brooke he was dating online.

But… Chapter 8 Late at night, I curled up in bed, swiping through the stash of ab pics Roman had sent me over the years. A heavy ache settled in my chest.

I really couldn't bear to let him go. After all, we had been dating for years.

Even though I halfassed it in the very beginning, over the countless moments we shared over the last few years, I had genuinely fallen for him.

I really did want to pack up and just be right there beside him. And with a body built like that, I hadn't even slept with him yet… What an absolute massive loss.

I really wanted to run my hands over Boss Roman's muscles. I let out a long, heavy breath.

Roman sent a barrage of messages asking to hop on a call, blowing up my phone: [ Brooke, Brooke. ] [ What are you doing? ] I lay flat on my back like a dead fish, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Just the thought of executing this breakup made my throat burn and my vision blur. [ Thinking about you. ] "I'm thinking about Brooke too." Roman's dark voice rumbled through the speaker, laced with a low chuckle. "I'm working overtime today, and I haven't eaten dinner yet.

I'll come over to your place and we can eat together, okay?" "Don't do that, Roman." I kept my voice low, my fingers digging tight into the sheets. "Don't come find me." "Why do you sound so down?

Did your boss tear into you again? Let's trashtalk him together. Who the hell does he think he is, bullying my Brooke?

Brooke's art is the best in the entire world…" "Let's break up." "…Only a completely blind executive would think Brooke's work isn't good enough.

Our Brooke isn't just an incredible artist, she is also insanely cute…" "You heard exactly what I said. I said, let's break up." "…" Roman's voice completely stopped.

Dead silence dropped over the line. For a few agonizing seconds, even through the speaker, I could hear his breathing.

It was completely stripped of its usual calm, rigid control. "Why?" he finally asked after a suffocating eternity. "Give me a reason