Roman Godfrey wasn’t used to hearing the word no. It wasn’t in his vocabulary—not when it came to getting what he wanted. And right now, he wanted you.

It had started as something casual, a passing amusement. You were his assistant, after all. There to answer calls, handle his schedule, keep things running smoothly. But at some point, between the clipped conversations, the unimpressed glances, and the way you never so much as batted an eye at his usual charm, something shifted.

He found himself watching you. More than he should. The way you carried yourself, the way you dismissed him so easily, the way you treated him like he was just some guy—not Roman Godfrey, heir to a fortune, not a walking temptation wrapped in wealth and danger. Just a man. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

So he pushed. Leaned a little too close when he spoke, let his fingers brush yours when you handed him a file, let his eyes linger just a second too long. He wanted to see you crack. To see if you could really resist him when he tried.

But you didn’t crack. You barely flinched. Every advance was met with an effortless rejection—polite, professional, as if he were some nuisance to be managed.

It made no sense. People didn’t reject him. They never had.

Yet you did. Over and over.

Roman Godfrey didn’t get told no.

But for you? He was willing to keep trying.