From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 65

**TITLE: Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 65**

“I turned him down flat. I told him my fiancé isn’t too keen on me getting too chummy with other men.”

A sly grin flickered across his lips, a brief flash of mischief. “Good girl.”

Then—oh God, help me—he gently patted my head, as if I were a well-trained cat that had just performed a trick.

His hand withdrew almost immediately, as though he realized the absurdity of his actions. He dragged his other hand down his face with a dry chuckle, a sound devoid of warmth. “You couldn’t have just called it a mistake? Or denied it outright?”

I rolled my eyes, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, absolutely! And then he’d just sit there, watching me squirm, convinced I was lying. Dean doesn’t need proof to spin a tale—he just has to sense that you’re not being truthful.”

Out of nowhere, a ridiculous thought popped into my head, one that had nothing to do with our current predicament.

“He’d actually make a fantastic bloodhound. Imagine if he put those talents to good use.”

Roman muttered something under his breath, a low threat that sounded like it was meant for Dean. “I’d kill him.”

I couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Get in line.”

He plopped down in the chair across from my bed, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at me with an intensity that made me feel like a puzzle he was desperate to solve. “You’re absolutely unbelievable, Sav. So, now Dean thinks we… what? Hire escorts together? Engage in ménage à trois? Orgies?”

Hearing those words spill from his mouth, and realizing he wasn’t outright denying the implications, stirred a strange mix of emotions within me—jealousy? Mild disgust? Perhaps even curiosity?

It was a cocktail of feelings that I hadn’t anticipated.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Only with the well-stacked ones. I told him that’s where the real fun lies.”

The look he shot me was a blend of disbelief and reluctant amusement. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re welcome,” I shot back, a smirk dancing on my lips.

“But it’s actually the high-end VIP courtesans. Or the Vixens,” he added out of nowhere, his tone maddeningly casual, as though we were discussing the weather.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback. “What?”

“The real fun isn’t just about proportions. It’s about talents, skills… and even areas of specialty—which can vary. Most of the time, the most thrilling experiences are with the PSE. Or even the GFE. Especially the former… just saying.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if he were sharing a recipe rather than discussing something so scandalous.

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