From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 55

**Chapter 36: Piecing Clues**

Roman

In an instant, she became a statue, frozen in a moment that felt both fragile and ominous. She was like ice—crystalline and beautiful, yet on the verge of shattering.

“Sav?” I whispered into her ear, my voice low and deliberate, each syllable hanging in the air like a warning. “Time’s ticking.”

Her long lashes fluttered, breaking the spell of whatever memory had ensnared her. “Where did you hear that name? Who told you that?” The urgency in her voice was palpable, laced with a mix of fear and curiosity.

I leaned back, allowing a slow shrug to roll through my shoulders, feigning nonchalance. “The walls have ears… and lips. Sometimes they talk.” The words danced between us, light yet heavy with implication.

Her glare sharpened, becoming a blade that cut through my playful demeanor. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Roman. If you know that name, then someone in this house must have told you.”

A lazy smile crept across my face, the kind that hinted at secrets I wasn’t ready to share. “Don’t forget the rules, Sav. I drop clues, you play detective.”

“I’m not exactly getting this game anymore, Roman.” Her frustration was evident, but there was a spark of determination in her eyes that I found intriguing.

“I’ll explain again,” I said, locking my gaze with hers, my voice steady and clear. “I’ll drop a clue in the form of a question. If you get it wrong or try to evade it, I’ll kiss you wherever I want. If you answer correctly, you can ask me any question you desire. Understand that part?”

She nodded, her defiance still simmering beneath the surface.

“Now, if I evade the question, you’ll collect payment in the form of a touch. No body part is off the table. If I answer truthfully, I’ll drop another clue in the form of a question. You’re basically hunting for clues in this game, Sav. Do you understand?”

“Still a little confused, but I’ll catch up,” she replied, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Smart girl. Now, answer the question.”

Her shoulders rose and fell, a silent struggle to maintain her composure. “He was my professor in college,” she said, the tension in her voice betraying her.

Bad liar. The words were too clipped, too rehearsed.

“Are you sure?” I asked, my tone light, but the weight of the question hung heavily between us. I wanted the truth, not the polished version she was offering. Not what I had uncovered when I delved into her past with Professor Kingston.

She didn’t flinch, her resolve unwavering. “That’s what he was. It’s literally in his title. Just my professor in college.”

I knew better. But I let her think she was getting away with it. The game was far more enjoyable that way.

“Okay. Your turn,” I said, playing along, eager to see where she would take this.

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