Ashley's POV:
Ashley woke slowly, surfacing through a fog that felt more like gravity than sleep — heavy, dragging, too real.Warmth pressed into her spine. Solid. Unyielding.Unmistakably Roman.
His arm curved around her waist like it had found its default setting overnight. Like her body had been designed to fit under his. Ashley stayed still — not frozen, just unsure which version of herself she'd be if she moved.
Behind her, Roman breathed in once, low and steady, the kind of breath a man takes when he's already aware.
His lips brushed her shoulder."Morning, sunbeam."
Her throat tightened. "…morning."Two syllables, thin as paper.
His arm tightened — not trapping, just reminding her he existed in every inch of the space she occupied.
"You're quiet," he murmured against her skin.
She didn't answer. Her mind was a knotted drawer someone had slammed shut too quickly — tangled thoughts, half emotions, sharp edges she hadn't sorted yet.
Roman gave her three silent seconds. He always counted, even when she didn't see him do it.
"Ashley."Soft. Too soft.
His thumb stroked her waist like he was smoothing out static in her breathing.
"You're thinking yourself off a cliff."
"I'm fine," she whispered.Lie. A flimsy one.
He shifted, bracing on an elbow. She could feel him watching her before she turned. When she finally tilted her face toward him, his eyes were already locked on hers — sharp, patient, and unsettlingly calm for someone who saw straight through her.
"You don't disappear like this," he said quietly. "Not unless something's wrong."
A small ache unfurled in her chest — the kind that comes from being seen at the exact moment you want to be invisible.
"I'm just tired."
He didn't buy that for a second. His jaw flexed, a quiet signal she wasn't fooling anyone.
"Look at me."
She hesitated.
Then turned onto her back.
His gaze softened — not gentle, but deliberate. Controlled. Like he was easing his grip on something with teeth.
"You're overwhelmed," he said. "Your breathing is wrong. You slept like you were bracing for impact."
The truth sat heavy in her mouth."I don't know what I'm feeling."
There it was. Bare. Trembling.
Roman didn't smirk. Didn't twist it into victory.
He touched his forehead to hers, voice dropping low."I know. That's why I'm taking you out today."
She blinked. "Out?"
"Yes." His thumb traced slow circles on her hip. "You need something normal. Something that reminds you you're still here."
"Why shopping?" she whispered.
"So you can breathe," he said. "So you stop vanishing in your head."
Something warm and terrifying folded inside her ribs.
"Okay."
He exhaled like she'd just given him exactly what he wanted."Good girl."
Heat spiked in her pulse — unwanted, undeniable.
She sat up fast, needing air, but he followed with the quiet persistence of a shadow.
In the bathroom, her hands shook as she brushed her teeth. Roman slid behind her without sound, arms closing around her waist, grounding and overwhelming at once.
In the mirror, his chin settled on her shoulder, eyes half-lidded but razor-aware.
"You look like you're trying not to disappear."
"I'm fine."
"When you get quiet," he whispered into her neck, "it's because you're thinking something you won't say."
Her grip on the sink tightened.
"You're not scared of me," he said. "You're scared of the parts of yourself I pull out. And that's okay."
Her breath wavered.
She shouldn't have asked."What do you feel?"
His reflection shifted. Something darker slid behind his expression.
"Obsessed."A single word, heavy enough to bruise."Quietly. Completely."
The toothbrush nearly slipped from her fingers.
"And you're mine," he added softly. "Even when you don't know which way you're running."
Her voice cracked. "Roman…"
"Mhm."
"You're too much."
A low smile ghosted across his mouth."That's why you keep turning toward me even when you think you're backing away."
Her knees threatened to buckle. He held her without effort.
He guided her toward the closet. Ashley stood folded into herself, sleeves twisted in her fingers, while Roman sorted through her clothes like he was choosing the weather.
He held a white top and light-wash jeans against her."You look gentle in these."
"I'm not gentle."
Roman stepped closer, his breath brushing her lips."You are. You just pretend otherwise."
She dropped her gaze; he let her. Watching the way she looked away was half the ritual.
When her fingers fumbled the top button, he stepped in, catching her hand.
"Let me."
Each button he closed felt like a pulse under her skin.
Breakfast was quiet. Roman cooked like he was keeping an eye on a storm. Ashley sat small, hands tucked between her knees.
"You don't have to talk," he said, placing her bowl down. "Just don't shrink."
"I'm trying."
"I know." His fingers brushed her shoulder. "I can tell."
When she finished, he wiped a crumb from her lip with his thumb — slow, deliberate."You always look softer after you eat," he murmured.
Her heart stumbled.
The drive was silent except for the weight of his hand on her thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles that felt anything but casual.
In the store, she reached for a cream sweater.
A man across the aisle glanced at her.
One second.
Roman saw it.
His entire demeanor shifted — cold, precise, predatory without movement. He stared at the stranger with a calmness that said: choose another aisle if you value your day.
The man looked away so fast he nearly tripped.
Roman stepped closer, chest grazing her shoulder, hand finding the small of her back.
"Some men don't understand boundaries, They need to be shown." he murmured.
"He wasn't—"
"He was."
She swallowed. "…sorry."
Roman leaned to her ear."Don't apologize for being seen. Just stay where I can reach you."
Her breath trembled.
He took the sweater from her hands."You like this."
"I don't know."
"You looked at it for three seconds," he said. "That's enough."
Into the cart it went.
Claimed.
As they walked, anyone who glanced her way found Roman's stare waiting — cold, quiet, territorial.
Not her.
Not around me.
Never.
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Third-Person POV —
Somewhere in a shadowed warehouse, the man who had dared glance at Ashley writhed beneath blows that were precise, unyielding, and unavoidable. The men executing it moved like extensions of Roman's will—cold, deliberate, perfect.
He had looked. That was enough. That was all it ever took to deserve this.
Outside, the world thrummed with ignorance. Inside, a message was carved into bone and sinew: no one touches what is his. No one dares.
Ashley moved through her day, blissfully unaware, her laughter and light unguarded. And yet, in the shadows, the cost of intrusion was written, invisible but absolute—a silent decree that every eye that wandered too close would shatter before it even dared.
Because she was his.And everything else belonged to nothing.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Author's Note :
Congratulations, dear reader—you just peeked into Roman's HR department.
Policy? Look at Ashley wrong, get terminated.
Compliance rate: 100%.
Performance reviews: brutal. 🏢💥
Honestly, if corporate America ran like this, quarterly reports would be way more entertaining.
Everyone else? Keep your eyes on your spreadsheets and out of Roman's crosshairs.
Ashley? Still blissfully unaware, probably wondering why her latte tastes like impending doom. ☕
⚡ Moral of the story: don't make him hire bodyguards for your face.
Or, you know, just don't breathe near what's his. Efficiency has never been so terrifyingly poetic. 😏
-Vaanni🖤