Chapter 2 - TABLE FOUR
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The first person to see Sadi was Aunt Patricia.
The second was Derek.
Sadi almost wished the order had been reversed.
Aunt Patricia froze halfway through lifting a champagne flute.
Her eyes dropped to Roman’s hand resting against Sadi’s waist.
Then rose slowly toward his face.
“Sadi?”
Every conversation within twenty feet seemed to weaken.
Sadi smiled.
“Hi, Aunt Patricia.”
Roman’s hand remained warm and steady against her back.
Patricia recovered enough to stare openly.
“And this is…”
“Roman.”
Roman extended a hand.
“Roman Rossi.”
Patricia’s expression emptied.
Unlike Sadi’s suburban relatives, Aunt Patricia read newspapers.
Apparently she remembered names.
Her hand jerked slightly before accepting his.
“How… nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
It absolutely was not.
Sadi could hear it.
Before Patricia could escape, Sadi’s mother appeared.
Elaine Miller looked elegant in champagne silk, her hair perfectly styled, her expression already carrying the exhausted martyrdom she wore whenever family events required more than one emotional complication.
“There you are.”
Her gaze immediately landed on Roman.
“Oh.”
“Mom, this is Roman. My boyfriend.”
The word felt absurd.
Dangerous.
Unexpectedly satisfying.
Elaine’s lips parted.
“Boyfriend?”
“Six months,” Roman said smoothly.
Sadi looked at him.
He looked back without blinking.
Her mother’s confusion deepened.
“You never mentioned…”
“Sadi is private.”
Roman squeezed her waist once.
“She doesn’t discuss people she cares about unless she trusts the audience.”
It was such a brutal sentence delivered with such impeccable manners that Sadi nearly choked.
Elaine understood.
Roman smiled politely.
“Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“We were told we’re seated at table four.”
Elaine went pale.
Sadi turned sharply.
“I didn’t tell her.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Your phone was charging in my office this morning.”
“You texted my mother?”
“I negotiated.”
Elaine cleared her throat.
“Technically, he called.”
Of course he had.
Roman Rossi had personally telephoned her mother to renegotiate wedding seating.
Sadi suddenly wanted to laugh so badly it hurt.
Then Derek approached.
He looked older.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that Sadi wondered why her memories had preserved him so perfectly.
His fiancée followed.
Tall.
Blonde.
Athletic.
Exactly the type Sadi had spent two years using as evidence against herself.
“Sadi.”
“Derek.”
His eyes moved toward Roman.
Recognition came slower than Aunt Patricia’s.
Then much faster.
“Roman Rossi?”
Roman’s expression remained neutral.
“You must be Derek.”
“How do you know?”
“Sadi has mentioned you.”
That was technically true.
Mostly while swearing.
Derek looked uncomfortable.
“This is Madison.”
The blonde woman extended her hand.
“Sadi. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Sadi prepared herself for condescension.
Instead, Madison smiled warmly.
“You look incredible.”
Sadi blinked.
“Thank you.”
“I love that dress.”
And suddenly, the villain Sadi had created in her mind became inconveniently human.
“Yours too.”
Derek’s attention remained fixed on Roman.
“So, how did you two meet?”
Roman answered immediately.
“An art fundraiser.”
Sadi relaxed.
“She insulted me.”
Derek frowned.
“I did not.”
Roman finally looked at her.
“You said my opinion on Giacometti suggested I had the emotional range of a parking meter.”
Sadi stared at him.
That was disturbingly specific.
“Because you called the sculpture depressing.”
“It was depressing.”
“It was existential.”
Roman turned back to Derek.
“We’ve been arguing ever since.”
Derek laughed uneasily.
“That sounds like Sadi.”
Something about the sentence irritated her.
As though Derek still possessed some claim to defining who she was.
Roman apparently felt the shift in her body.
His thumb moved slowly against her waist.
A grounding gesture.
Derek noticed.
“So things are serious?”
Roman’s eyes cooled.
“I don’t do casual.”
The answer ended the conversation.
Dinner began twenty minutes later.
And true to Roman’s promise, Sadi sat at table four.
Beside Derek.
Across from her mother.
With Roman on her right.
Initially, it was everything she had imagined.
People stared.
Questions came.
How long had they dated?
Where did Roman live?
What did Roman do?
“Logistics,” he answered.
Sadi nearly inhaled wine.
“What kind of logistics?” Chloe’s fiancé asked.
“Complicated logistics.”
Roman sipped his whiskey.
Nobody asked again.
But somewhere between the salad and main course, Sadi realized something unexpected.
She was not enjoying Derek’s discomfort.
She had imagined this night dozens of times.
She had imagined arriving thinner.
Richer.
Engaged.
Successful.
She had imagined Derek regretting everything.
Yet now that he clearly did look uncomfortable, she felt almost nothing.
No triumph.
No vindication.
Just relief.
Two years ago, his opinion had determined how she saw herself.
Tonight, it seemed strangely unimportant.
Then her mother ruined everything.
Elaine leaned toward Roman.
“You must have met Sadi after she finally decided to make some changes.”
Sadi froze.
Roman placed his fork down.
“What changes?”
Elaine laughed nervously.
“Well, she was always such a pretty girl. We simply worried about her health and her presentation.”
“Mom.”
“I’m complimenting you.”
Roman looked toward Sadi.
“Do you want me to answer?”
That question surprised her.
He was asking permission.
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
Roman turned toward Elaine.
“I met your daughter exactly as she is now.”
The table quieted.
“And?”
Elaine blinked.
“And?”
“I’m trying to understand which part required changing.”
“Oh, Roman. Mothers worry.”
“Then worry about whether she sleeps enough. She doesn’t.”
Sadi stared.
“Worry that she works too many hours. She does.”
Roman’s voice remained calm.
“Worry that she thinks she has to earn basic kindness from people who claim to love her.”
Elaine’s smile vanished.
“Roman.”
Sadi whispered his name.
He looked at her.
She should stop him.
Instead, tears threatened.
Roman’s expression softened just enough for her to notice.
Under the table, he reached for her hand.
That was when a waiter rushed toward Roman.
The young man bent and whispered something into his ear.
Roman’s face changed.
Every trace of warmth disappeared.
He stood.
“Excuse me.”
Sadi followed instinctively.
“Something wrong?”
Roman’s eyes scanned the ballroom.
Then another man entered through the side doors.
One of Roman’s security guards.
His jacket was wet despite the clear weather.
And there was blood on his collar.
Roman leaned toward Sadi.
“Go to the restroom.”
“What happened?”
“Now.”
Sadi’s stomach tightened.
“Roman—”
The fire alarm exploded through the ballroom.
People screamed.
Lights flashed red.
Roman grabbed Sadi’s hand.
But instead of leading her toward the exit, he pulled her against him.
“Change of plans.”
His voice was deadly calm.
May you like
“What plans?”
“The Morettis know I’m here.”
