A Fake

After leaving Roman’s room, Alana went straight to the kitchen. She poured cereal into a ceramic bowl, added milk, and settled onto a high stool, finally allowing herself a quiet moment to eat in peace.

A minute later Erin walked in, his thumb still tapping rapidly at his phone screen.

From the light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin and the athletic clothes he wore, it was clear he had just returned from a gruelling morning run.

With her thoughts no longer clouded by the absolute chaos of the previous night, Alana could study him properly for the first time.

His short black hair framed a pair of sharp, observant brown eyes. He had a lean, athletic build and stood exceptionally tall, though not quite as imposing as Roman, whom she estimated at about six-foot-six.

She dropped her gaze back down to her bowl the moment he started walking toward her, not wanting to be caught staring like an idiot.

“Good morning, Miss Gates,” he said, his voice deep and polite.

Alana lifted her head, met his eyes, and offered a polite nod, her mouth still completely full of cereal.

“Would you like me to prepare a proper breakfast for you?” Erin asked, tilting his head slightly.

She shook her head rapidly and swallowed hard. “Thanks, but it’s fine.”

Erin started to turn away toward the counter, then paused mid-motion when she spoke again.

“Is it possible for me to have my own room?”

“I don’t think I’m in a position to answer that,” he replied carefully, choosing his words with practiced caution. “You’ll have to discuss it directly with Roman.”

Alana simply nodded and returned to her cereal. The slight downturn of her mouth made it plain she had little to no enthusiasm for the conversation ahead.

Erin took the silent hint and left the room without another word. He had originally come upstairs hoping to speak with Roman, but that discussion would clearly have to wait until things settled.

As Roman’s assistant and closest friend, Erin was usually informed about absolutely everything, business and personal matters alike.

What he couldn’t understand was why Roman had said nothing about this girl. Erin had only been away for three days.

When, exactly, had this relationship started? Wasn’t it only a few days ago that a massive misunderstanding with her had nearly turned into something far uglier?

His eyes narrowed into slits as he climbed the stairs back to the second floor. He was definitely missing something important.

After finishing her meal, Alana went directly back up to Roman’s bedroom. The idea of sharing a bed with him any longer felt completely impossible. That morning had already reminded her how unpredictable and frustrating he could be.

She reached the door, gathered her scattered courage, and lifted her hand to knock. The heavy door swung open before her knuckles could even touch the dark wood, leaving her hand frozen awkwardly in mid-air.

Roman looked mildly surprised to find her standing there on his threshold.

“Have you been waiting here the whole time?” he asked, a raised eyebrow breaking his usual blank mask.

“No, of course not.” Alana quickly lowered her hand to her side.

His gaze lingered on her face a moment longer before he brushed past her into the hallway. She turned on her heel and hurried right after him.

“I wanted to talk to you about something important,” she said, trailing behind his long strides.

Roman glanced over his broad shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s about the bedroom. I can’t—”

“Have you had breakfast yet?” he interrupted smoothly, completely halting his steps.

Alana stopped short, thrown entirely by the sudden change of subject. Only moments ago he had walked past her as if she barely existed.

“I’m sure you heard me,” Roman said when she remained silent, his monotonous voice returning.

“Um… yes.”

“What did you eat?”

She stared blankly at his back, still trying to catch up with his line of thought. “Cereal.”

“That doesn’t count as a real meal, Alana. I’ll make you some pancakes.”

“I don’t really like pancakes,” she lied instantly, even though she absolutely loved them.

“What about bacon?” he asked as they entered the sleek kitchen.

“I do like bacon, but I’ve already eaten.”

“And as I already said, cereal doesn’t count.” Roman began gathering ingredients from the fridge with practiced ease. “You’re not six years old. Besides, you need to gain some weight. You’re entirely too thin.”

A frown tugged at her mouth, irritation flaring. “I’m not thin.”

“Right,” he answered simply, heating the black pan without looking at her.

Alana glanced down at her wrist, turning it slowly under the kitchen lights. Maybe she was a little skinny. She had always thought of herself as slender, nothing more.

Her eyes drifted back to Roman’s broad shoulders as he worked over the stove. He was dressed casually in lounge clothes, clearly not planning to leave the penthouse any time soon.

She slid onto a stool, propped her elbow on the marble counter, and rested her chin in her palm. Her thoughts wandered to her stepsister. The spoiled girl was probably already bored out of her mind without anyone left to torment. As for her stepfather… the mere thought of him still roaming New York made her stomach twist with quiet disgust.

She didn't even notice when Roman set a plate of crisp, hot bacon in front of her.

“What are you thinking about?” His deep voice pulled her back to reality. She looked down at the plate, then up at him.

“Nothing,” she murmured, picking up a strip and taking a hesitant bite.

Roman watched her eat in total silence for a while, his expression unreadable.

“You were talking about the bedroom,” he said eventually, breaking the quiet.

Alana nodded, still chewing the crisp meat. “Can I have my own room, please?”

“No.”

The blunt answer came so quickly she almost choked on her food. “Why?”

“The only guest room is used by my assistant from time to time. There are no other rooms available right now.”

She nodded slowly, absorbing the disappointing information.

“Why do you want a separate room?” Roman asked, leaning his weight against the counter. “Is something wrong with the one you’re in?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t think it’s appropriate to share a room with you. Our relationship is only a facade.”

At that exact moment, Erin walked into the kitchen, his boots clicking softly on the floorboards.

“That is precisely why we should be sleeping together,” Roman said, his voice completely flat.

Alana coughed hard, nearly choking on her drink. She shot a panicked glance at Erin, who was rummaging through the fridge with a suspicious amount of focus. She was certain he had heard every single word.

She glared at Roman. He wore an expression of perfect, unbothered indifference.

“I’m sure you agree it’s essential in every fake relationship,” he continued, pouring himself a cold glass of milk.

“Yes,” Alana answered too quickly, desperate to shut the conversation down before it got worse. The second the word left her mouth, she realized what it implied. “No!”

Roman raised a single eyebrow, his face still dead serious even though she knew he was only teasing her.

Face burning with sheer embarrassment, Alana stood up so fast the stool scraped loudly against the floor.

“I’m full. Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Ashford.” She fled the kitchen without another word, her heart pounding as if something were actively chasing her.

Roman watched her go, a slow, wicked smirk curling his mouth. The smirk vanished the exact moment he felt a pair of questioning eyes on him.

“What?” He looked at Erin, who had taken Alana’s abandoned seat after clearing her plate.

“Nothing.” Erin shrugged and reached for the plate of pancakes that had been sitting untouched in front of Roman.

Roman didn’t mind. He had absolutely no appetite this morning anyway. He rested both elbows on the counter and studied his friend.

“You clearly have something on your mind. Say it.”

Erin set the fork down against the ceramic. “Why didn’t you tell me about her before yesterday?”

The previous evening’s sudden order to pick up a young woman had caught him completely off guard. He had expected someone in her late twenties at least. This girl didn't look near that age.

“Our relationship is simply an arrangement,” Roman answered, his tone dropping. “It only started yesterday.”

Erin stopped chewing, his eyes wide. He understood more than enough without further explanation.

“Does Ryan know?”

“No. Not yet.”

Erin shook his head in disapproval. “You should have told him your intentions before finalizing any contract with her. Ryan will be furious when he finds out.”

“Likely,” Roman murmured. He rested his forehead against his palm, staring intensely at the countertop as though the smooth surface might offer answers.

Erin’s phone buzzed loudly in his hand. He pulled it out, glanced at the glowing screen, and his expression tightened instantly. After a quick look at Roman, who still hadn’t moved, he excused himself to take the call.

When he returned a minute later, a faint, dark frown sat between his brows.

Roman lifted his head, his sharp eyes tracking his assistant. “Who was it?”

“Your grandfather,” Erin said, his tone turning grave.

Roman’s frown deepened.

“What does he want?”