From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 112

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
*by Serene L. Arden*
**Chapter 73: You Ruined Everything**

The stinging bite of my heels against the polished marble floor slowed my frantic pace, forcing me to kick them off mid-stride. With my shoes discarded, I pressed on, determined to catch up to Roman, who was already striding towards the grand entrance of the ballroom. His long, purposeful strides cut through the crowd like a blade, broad shoulders parting the sea of guests with an almost military precision. My heart raced, a wild drumbeat echoing in my ears, struggling to keep up with him.

“Roman, please! Just wait a moment!” I called out, my voice cracking and barely breaking through the cacophony of laughter, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the orchestra swelling with yet another romantic melody.

He paused, though not entirely. Just enough that his head turned slightly in my direction, and I caught a glimpse of his emerald eyes—a storm of danger and fury swirling within them.

“Stay out of this, Savannah.” His voice was a low, rough growl, each syllable dripping with a guttural intensity that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

I surged forward, my hand reaching out to grasp his elbow, my nails digging into the fine fabric of his tuxedo. My chest heaved, breath coming in short gasps as I fought to keep my composure. “Please, Roman. Don’t make a scene. This is my sister’s wedding,” I implored, my heart jackhammering against my ribcage, desperate to keep the peace.

Around us, the guests continued their revelry, laughter and chatter swirling around us like a thick fog of oblivion. No one had noticed our tense standoff yet. Except—my gaze slipped past Roman’s arm, landing on Chloe. She stood rigidly at the far side of the ballroom with Dean, her expression tight, almost panicked. Their heads were bent close together, and the seriousness of their conversation felt utterly out of place amidst the joyous occasion.

Roman must have sensed my shift in focus because I felt the tension in his muscles beneath my fingers. His jaw clenched, and when his gaze flicked to Chloe and Dean, it darkened into something sharp, lethal—emerald daggers aimed at their backs.

“We’re leaving as soon as I’m finished here,” he declared, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re going back to Philadelphia.”

In that moment, something within me shattered and twisted. I nodded, feeling helplessness wash over me, my throat dry and tight. “You… you promise not to cause a scene?” The desperation in my voice made me loathe myself, but I clung to it nonetheless. Anything to ensure this wedding could conclude without a confrontation.

Roman offered no verbal response. Instead, he flashed a smile—one that felt more like a warning than an assurance.

Before I could voice another protest, he deftly maneuvered me backward, guiding me with the ease of a man who commanded every step of this chaotic dance. My knees buckled, and I found myself sinking into a nearby chair, the coolness of the seat a stark contrast to the heat of my anxiety. In a swift movement, he snagged a glass of juice from a passing waiter and thrust it into my hand.

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