In Bed With Her Shithead Boss (By Ellie Wynters) novel Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Roman took his promise to handle things personally very seriously.

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By late Tuesday afternoon, Blair found herself curled into the oversized leather chair in his home office, watching him argue with a florist like it was a hostile corporate takeover.

“How many fucking times?” Roman snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose, the phone pressed to his car. “No pink. She doesn’t like pink. I don’t like pink. Nobody here likes pink. Stick to whites, cream, greens–anything but fucking pink.”

Blair tried to smother her grin behind her hand. There was something deeply satisfying about watching Roman Kingston, this powerful, put–together man… losing his mind over flower arrangements. And for her.

She sat quietly, letting that realization settle. Roman knew she didn’t like pink. It was such a small thing. But he’d remembered. She wasn’t sure she’d ever said it out loud, not directly. Not to him.

Dan, on her last birthday, had bought her a blush pink satin robe and told her it “matched her skin tone.” It didn’t matter if it match her skin tone when she didn’t like pink.

Roman, who’d barely known her, had picked up on something Dan never did. The difference cut sharper than she expected.

He ended the call with a sharp “Just fix it,” then tossed the phone down with a frustrated sigh. He looked exhausted. Tense.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this instead of eloping?” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Because you insisted on doing it properly,” she said, stretching her legs out, bare feet tucked beneath her. “If I had my way, we’d already be married barefoot on a beach somewhere far away from everyone. Like a Pacific Island, drinking cocktails.”

Roman shot her a look. “Now you tell me.”

She laughed, a real one this time, and it settled deep in her chest. Despite everything, she felt good. Whole. For the first time. in weeks, the anxiety wasn’t screaming in her ears. It was still there, but quieter. Manageable. How could it not still be there?. Someone was trying to kill her.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I like that you’re here. Even if you are mocking me.”

“I like that you’re doing this.” She said it softly, fingers tracing along the armrest of the chair. “Not that you’re torturing florists, but… that you care. That this matters to you. That you know what colors I dislike.”

He blinked like she’d surprised him. “Of course I care,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t.”

The way he said it–low, unadorned, unshakeable–it hit her harder than any love letter ever could have. He didn’t say pretty things. He just told the truth. She’d take that every time.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“About marrying you?”

“No,” he said, dryly. “About the wedding.”

She took a beat, genuinely thinking it through. “A little, maybe. But it’s not the wedding that scares me.”

His brow furrowed.

“It’s everything else. The threat still hanging over our heads. The fact that we haven’t figured it out. I hate that feeling of waiting for something to blow up again. The other shoe to drop.”

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16:17 Wed, 18 Jun

Chapter 64

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Roman stood and came around the desk. He perched on the edge right in front of her, knees brushing hers. “I’ll handle it. I will protect you.”

She looked up, her throat tightening. “I know. I do. I just want it finished. I want to plan a life with you without looking over my shoulder.”

He cupped her chin, lifting her face. “Soon. I swear to you, Blair. We’ll get there.”

She exhaled slowly. “Good.”

They sat like that for a while, quiet, the silence not uncomfortable–just heavy with everything unsaid. Her fingers brushed along his wrist, grounding herself in the feel of him. The reality of him.

Then Roman shifted slightly. “Have you thought more about what we discussed?”

She looked up. “What?”

“You carrying my baby?”

The question didn’t shock her. It warmed her. Not soft and romantic. It was heavier than that. Real.

She flushed but didn’t look away. “It was a subject of conversation. Not exactly a plan.”

Roman’s mouth twitched. “We haven’t exactly been careful.”

Blair let out a shaky breath. “I noticed.”

“Does that scare you?”

hesitated. Not because she didn’t know–but because she didn’t want to get it wrong. “No. Not really. Maybe a little. But in a bad way.”

He touched her cheek, brushing his thumb softly across it. “You want it?”

Blair nodded slowly. “Not this second. But… yes. Soon. With you.”

His face softened. The Roman most people didn’t get to see–hers. “Good,” he said quietly. “Because I want that too. Not just because I like taking you bare. Though, to be fair, that’s definitely a bonus.”

She laughed, dropping her forehead to his chest. “You are such a shithead.”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around her. “You keep forgetting that’s part of my charm.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

He held her a moment longer, the tension in his frame easing. “Dinner tomorrow night with my parents. They’ll want updates.”

Blair groaned. “They’re going to think we’re rushing because I’m already pregnant.”

Roman snorted. “My mum would be thrilled. I think she’s already got names picked out.”

“Oh God.” Blair leaned back. “Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” Roman said solemnly.

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