The heavy silence of the corridor felt oppressive after the chaotic energy of Patricia's intrusion. Skye stood outside the playroom door for another heartbeat, forcing the tremors in her hands to still. She couldn't let Adam see her rattle; he needed the anchor she had promised to be.
Gently, she flagged down Sarah, Roman's secondary assistant, who was coming up the stairs with a fresh tray of fruit for Adam. Sarah took one look at Skye's pale face and the fierce set of her jaw and nearly dropped the tray.
"Miss Skye? What on earth-"
"Sarah, please," Skye interrupted, her voice low but commanding. "Take the fruit in to Adam. Stay with him. Don't mention the woman who just left, and if he asks, tell him I'm just chatting with Roman. Do not leave his side until I come back."
Sarah nodded solemnly, recognizing the 'Thorne-level' urgency in Skye's eyes. As Sarah disappeared into the playroom, Skye turned and marched toward the west wing. Every step she took felt like she was shedding the soft, cozy skin of the morning and donning a suit of armor.
She reached the massive, mahogany double doors of Roman's home office. Usually, she would knock- a polite boundary she kept because she knew how high the stakes were for Thorne Tech. Not today. She gripped the handles and pushed, the heavy doors swinging open with a silent, well-oiled sweep.
Roman was at his desk, three monitors glowing with lines of code and stock tickers, his phone pressed to his ear. He looked every bit the shark- sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed, a pen tapping rhythmically against the obsidian desk. He started to wave a hand as if to say one minute, but when he saw the look on Skye's face, he stopped mid-gesture.
"I'll call you back," Roman said into the phone, hanging up without waiting for a reply.
He didn't have time to ask what was wrong. Skye crossed the room in a blur of silk and determination. Instead of standing by the desk or taking the armchair across from him, she bypassed the formalities entirely. She stepped into the narrow space behind his desk and sat directly onto his lap, her arms winding around his neck, her face burying into the crook of his shoulder.
For a split second, Roman was stunned. It was the first time she had initiated such a bold, domestic claim in his workspace. Then, a low, rumbling sound of satisfaction escaped his chest. His large hands came up instinctively, one splaying across the small of her back, the other gripping her thigh, pulling her flush against his heat.
"You're bold this morning, Songbird," he murmured, his voice softening with a rare, private warmth. "Not that I'm complaining. I'd trade a thousand board meetings for this."
He pulled back to look at her, expecting to see a playful smirk. Instead, he saw the lingering fire in her eyes and the way her knuckles were still white where she clutched his shirt. His smile vanished. The possessive brute in him sat up, hackles raised.
"Skye," he said, his voice dropping into a dark, protective register. "What happened?"
"Patricia was here, Roman," she whispered. "In the playroom. With Adam."
The air in the room seemed to plummet twenty degrees. Roman didn't explode; he went utterly, terrifyingly still. It was the stillness of a predator that had just spotted its prey's throat.
"How?" he asked, the word a sharp, metallic snap.
"I don't know. She was just... there. Laughing like a lunatic. She called me a 'placeholder,' Roman. She told Adam she was 'the blood.'" Skye's voice broke for a second, not out of fear, but out of the sheer audacity of the woman. "I got him to put his headphones on. I dragged her into the hall. I told her if she ever touched this house again, I'd let the Dragon out of the cage."
Roman's grip on her waist tightened until it was nearly bruising, a physical reflex of his need to hold his world together. He didn't say anything. He turned in his chair, keeping Skye firmly on his lap, and tapped a series of commands into his center monitor.
"Let's see it," he muttered.
The screen flickered, shifting from corporate data to the high-definition security feeds of the estate. Roman pulled up the 'Playroom Corridor' and rewound the footage by ten minutes.
They watched in silence. Skye saw herself on screen, sitting on the rug with Adam, looking peaceful. Then, the door opened. They watched Patricia walk in, her face twisted in that manic, hysterical grin. Roman's jaw worked so hard that Skye could hear the bone grind.
When the footage showed Skye standing up, her movements lethal and deliberate, Roman's eyes narrowed. He watched Skye grab Patricia by the lapels, saw the sheer force with which she shoved the woman against the stone wall, and heard the muffled audio of Skye's voice- cold, steady, and utterly dominant.
"I am the woman who protects him," Skye's digital voice echoed through the office speakers. "And while I might not have the paperwork yet, I have the heart."
The footage ended with Patricia fleeing down the stairs like a kicked cat.
Roman sat back, the silence in the office heavy enough to choke. He didn't look at the screens. He looked at Skye. His expression was a complex map of raw fury and something that looked like profound, humbled worship.
"She bypassed the service entrance," Roman said, his voice a low, lethal vibration. "She used an old biometric override from when we were together- a legacy code my security team missed during the purge. It won't happen again. By tonight, every lock in this house will be re-coded with your biometrics, not hers."
He reached up, his hand cupping Skye's cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I am going to destroy her, Skye. I'm going to take whatever scrap of a life she has left and bury it so deep she'll forget her own name."
"Roman," Skye started, but he cut her off with a kiss- a hard, possessive, and lingering kiss that tasted of iron and salt.
"But more than that," he whispered against her lips, "I have never been more proud of you. I saw you on that screen. You weren't a guest in this house, and you sure as hell aren't a placeholder. You are the Queen of this fortress. You defended my son. You defended our home."
He pulled her closer, his head resting against her chest, listening to the frantic beat of her heart as it finally began to slow.
"You told her you have the heart," Roman murmured. "You have mine, too. Entirely. If there was ever a doubt in your mind about where you belong, let it die today. You are the mother Adam needs, and you are the only woman I will ever allow to stand behind those doors."
Skye let out a long, shuddering breath, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. The jealousy that had plagued her at the beach, the fear of Tish's "blood" connection, finally evaporated. She looked at the screens- at the house Roman had built to keep the world out- and realized that the strongest walls weren't made of stone. They were made of the man holding her.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
Roman straightened up, his eyes returning to the monitors, but this time they were cold and calculating. "Now? Now I call Tyson and tell him to find out exactly where Patricia went. And then I call Miller and tell him to start the adoption paperwork for you. If she wants to fight for 'blood,' we'll fight with the law."
He looked back at her, a dark, arrogant smirk finally returning to his face. "And then, I'm going to take the rest of the day off. Because my Queen just went into battle, and I think she deserves a victory lap."
Skye laughed, a real, bright sound that finally cleared the tension from the room. She leaned down and kissed him, a slow, deep promise of their own. "I think the Captain Mom and the Dragon make a pretty good team."
"The best," Roman agreed, standing up while still holding her, carrying her toward the large windows that overlooked their kingdom. "And heaven help anyone who tries to come between us again."