Chapter 4 - THE TRAITOR AT THE FAMILY TABLEMichael ran.
He made it as far as Cleveland.
Federal agents arrested him at a hotel.
The betrayal devastated the Duke family.
Michael had grown up beside Roman.
Birthday parties.
Christmases.
Family funerals.
He had hugged Lily after Elena died.
All while knowing why she was dead.
Roman became quieter.
More dangerous.
Claire saw it.
Three days after Michael's arrest, Roman stopped coming to the bakery.
Lily still came.
Susan sometimes drove her.
Roman disappeared into meetings.
Investigators.
Attorneys.
Old Duke business.
Claire told herself she didn't care.
Then caught herself looking at the door every morning at 8:15.
On day five, she became irritated.
On day six, furious.
On day seven, Roman appeared.
Black suit.
Exhausted eyes.
“Coffee?”
Claire stared.
“That's it?”
“What?”
“You disappear for a week and walk in asking for coffee?”
His eyebrows rose.
“I wasn't aware I had attendance requirements.”
“You don't.”
“Then—”
“Black?”
“Yes.”
She poured it aggressively.
Roman watched.
“Are you angry?”
“No.”
“You're assaulting the coffee.”
Claire slammed the cup down.
“Your niece has been worried.”
Roman's face changed.
“I've spoken to her every day.”
“Speaking isn't being there.”
He went silent.
Claire realized what she'd said.
Roman sat.
“You're right.”
“Again?”
“Don't become accustomed.”
She almost smiled.
Then Roman said:
“I didn't want you involved.”
Claire stiffened.
“Excuse me?”
“Michael knows about you.”
“And?”
“He knows I care about you.”
There it was.
Not flirtation.
Not pretend girlfriend.
Care.
Claire's defenses rose immediately.
“So you disappeared.”
“To keep distance.”
“You really are terrible at relationships.”
Roman looked surprised.
“Relationships?”
Claire froze.
He smiled slowly.
“Interesting.”
“Don't.”
“You said it.”
“I said relationships generally.”
“Of course.”
Claire threw a napkin at him.
He caught it.
Then his smile disappeared.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“I do care about you.”
Her heart hammered.
“I know.”
“I don't know what to do with that.”
“That makes two of us.”
He stood.
Walked closer.
Claire's instinct was to step back.
She didn't.
Roman stopped in front of her.
“I have spent most of my life making people afraid.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“You could try being charming.”
“I thought I was.”
Claire laughed.
Roman's expression softened.
Then he touched her face.
Slowly.
Giving her every opportunity to stop him.
She didn't.
“Tell me no,” he whispered.
Claire's breath caught.
She had spent weeks telling him no.
No fake relationship.
No money.
No control.
No assumptions.
Now, when he finally asked for something honestly—
she didn't want to.
So she kissed him.
Roman froze for half a second.
Then kissed her back.
Softly.
Not like a feared crime boss.
Like a man terrified of ruining something good.
When they separated, Claire whispered:
“This does not make me your girlfriend.”
Roman's mouth curved.
“Technically—”
“Roman.”
“Understood.”
The bakery door opened.
Lily entered.
Saw them.
Stopped.
“Oh my God.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Roman looked entirely unbothered.
Lily shouted toward Susan outside:
“AUNT SUSAN! YOU OWE ME TWENTY DOLLARS!”
Claire stared at Roman.
“Your family bet on us?”
“Apparently.”
“I hate all of you.”
“No, you don't.”
May you like
That was the problem.
She didn't.
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