From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 158

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**

**Chapter 98: Ten Minutes. My Office.**

**One Week Later**

It had been a full week since the moment I had crumbled in Roman’s embrace, surrendering to the storm of emotions that had threatened to engulf me.

Seven long days of donning a mask, pretending my heart wasn’t a hollow ache yearning for him, as if my very skin didn’t ignite with longing in his absence.

The space he had granted me, a request I had made in a moment of panic, had turned into a cruel reminder of my solitude, a suffocating distance that felt more like a punishment than a reprieve.

In an effort to escape the gnawing emptiness, I threw myself into my work. It was infinitely simpler to lose myself in endless spreadsheets and incessant phone calls than to sit in silence and remember the way he had held me—so fiercely, so protectively—as if he could shatter the universe itself just to keep me safe.

But then came the silence, the void he had left behind.

Even amidst the usual hum of office chatter, his presence lingered. I could feel him in the ghostly brush of hair against my neck, reminiscent of his breath. In the heavy silence that hung between meetings, I often wondered if he was watching me, his gaze an invisible weight. I found myself smiling, inexplicably, at nothing in particular, only to quickly erase the expression before anyone could catch on. My thighs pressed tightly together, a futile attempt to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me.

It was absurd. I was supposed to be focused, dedicated to reconstructing the fragments of my life. Yet, I was trapped in a loop, replaying every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every promise woven into the cadence of his voice.

Then, just after lunch, the flowers arrived, and naturally, they were nothing short of extravagant. A flamboyant explosion of long-stemmed roses, elegant lilies, and exotic orchids, the arrangement looked as if it had been plucked straight from a bridal hall. Every luxurious bloom seemed to burst forth in a riot of color, blocking half of my computer screen, transforming my workspace into a botanical wonderland.

The delivery guy wheeled it in with the air of someone unloading cargo, his grin wide as he deposited the enormous bouquet onto my desk with a resounding thud that drew the attention of half the office.

Every head in the vicinity turned, conversations sputtering into silence. Clara from accounting clapped her hands together as if she had just witnessed a grand proposal.

The entire office ceased their pretense of productivity, heads popping up over cubicle walls like curious meerkats. Phones were hastily set down, and whispers filled the air, as if a live soap opera had suddenly begun unfolding on our floor.

I managed to muster a smile that could win awards, one that conveyed, Yes, I’m flattered, but let’s not make a spectacle of this, while I tugged the card free from the lush stems. My hands trembled slightly, because deep down, I already knew the sender.

Roman.

And, of course, the whispers erupted immediately.

“Damn, Savannah, looks like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer!” someone from accounting called out, a teasing lilt in their voice.

“Secret? That’s her fiancé making a love declaration of war,” another chimed in, leaning over their cubicle like a gossiping bird.

Shit. The realization hit me like a cold wave. Thanks to Lizzie and the Bridal Lake fiasco, everyone believed I was engaged to Roman.

I wanted to sink into the carpet and disappear. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I fumbled with the envelope nestled among the blooms. The eyes of my coworkers bore into me, some feigning disinterest while others craned their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of what I would read.

With my heart racing, I slid the card out, my pulse pounding in my ears before I even dared to look. Two words leaped out at me, written in the bold, unmistakable strokes I had come to know all too well:

**Ten minutes.**

Beneath it, in smaller, almost intimate lettering, as though he had whispered it directly to me:

**My office.**

Just then, my phone buzzed, a perfectly timed notification that sent my heart into a frenzy.

**Roman:** Ten minutes. I’m burning for you. Don’t keep me waiting.

My throat went dry, a rush of heat flooding my body as I bit down on my bottom lip, struggling to keep myself grounded.

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