Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Said No to Roman Rossi
Three months later, Sadi opened her own event studio.
Not with Roman’s money.
That point mattered enough that she made him repeat it whenever he tried to buy something ridiculous.
“No marble.”
“I did not say marble.”
“You looked at the floor.”
“It is damaged.”
“It has character.”
“It has water stains.”
“Character.”
The studio occupied a narrow storefront with tall windows and exposed brick.
Sadi called it Olive & Ember.
Her first clients were small.
A baby shower.
A retirement dinner.
A nonprofit fundraiser.
Bianca hired her for a second wedding celebration after the family’s original ceremony had been reduced.
Sadi nearly refused.
Then Bianca said, “I want everyone to see what you can do.”
So Sadi planned it.
Not as an apology.
As work.
The reception was held in a greenhouse filled with candles and white flowers.
No hierarchy tables.
No “important guests.”
No hidden seats.
At Sadi’s insistence, every table was identical.
Celeste noticed.
She said nothing.
That silence, for once, was respectful.
Roman arrived late.
He had warned Sadi.
A business issue.
Nothing dangerous, he promised.
She had made him explain enough to believe him.
He entered during dinner wearing a dark suit and carrying no entourage inside.
People still noticed.
They probably always would.
But Sadi no longer watched the room change around him.
She watched him look for her.
The moment he found her across the greenhouse, his expression softened.
Bianca leaned toward Sadi.
“That man is gone.”
Sadi pretended not to understand.
“Where?”
“Emotionally.”
Sadi laughed.
Roman reached them.
He kissed Bianca’s cheek.
Congratulated Noah.
Then looked at Sadi.
“You worked.”
She wore a black jumpsuit, comfortable shoes, and an earpiece.
“I am at work.”
“You look beautiful.”
“That line again?”
“It remains accurate.”
Sadi smiled.
Then Roman’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His expression changed.
Sadi noticed.
“What?”
He hesitated.
She waited.
Roman handed her the phone.
Learning.
The message came from Matteo.
CARUSO OFFERING INFORMATION IN EXCHANGE FOR REDUCED CHARGES. YOUR NAME MAY SURFACE. CALL ME.
Sadi read it.
“What information?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you worried?”
“Yes.”
She handed back the phone.
“Then go.”
Roman stared.
“This is your sister’s reception.”
“And?”
“I said I would stay.”
“Roman, I am not a test of loyalty.”
He went still.
Sadi continued.
“You can have responsibilities and still care about me. The problem is when you lie about one to protect the other.”
Roman looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“I will call Matteo.”
“Good.”
He stepped outside.
Sadi returned to work.
An hour later, Roman came back.
His face was controlled but tired.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Caruso claims I ordered pressure against one of his companies two years ago.”
“Did you?”
Roman did not answer immediately.
Sadi’s stomach tightened.
Then he said, “Yes.”
The truth landed heavily.
“What kind of pressure?”
“Financial. Contracts. Suppliers. Nothing involving you or your family.”
“Was it legal?”
A pause.
“Some of it occupied a gray area.”
Sadi closed her eyes.
Of course it did.
Roman Rossi had not become feared because he wrote stern emails.
She had known that.
Knowing abstractly and hearing details were different.
Sadi looked at the greenhouse around them.
Candles.
Music.
People laughing.
Her new business.
A life she was building.
She could not pretend Roman’s world did not exist simply because he was gentle with her.
“I need to know something.”
“Ask.”
“Are you trying to leave that life?”
Roman looked at her.
It was the question neither had asked directly.
He spoke carefully.
“I have been moving more of my holdings into legitimate structures for years.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Sadi waited.
Roman looked down.
For the first time, he seemed uncertain how much truth she could accept.
She almost laughed at the irony.
Then he said, “Yes.”
One word.
Heavy.
“I am trying.”
“Because of me?”
“No.”
She was surprised.
Roman continued.
“My mother asked me to before she died. I told her power was safer than weakness.”
“And now?”
“Now I think power that requires constant fear is another kind of weakness.”
Sadi studied him.
“Are you promising to become a saint?”
“No.”
“Good. I would not believe you.”
“I am promising not to lie about what I am changing.”
That, she could believe.
Later that night, when the guests left, Roman helped Sadi collect place cards.
He was terrible at it.
He stacked them crooked.
Sadi took the pile away.
“You control half of Chicago and cannot organize paper.”
“I have people for paper.”
“Not tonight.”
He smiled.
They worked until midnight.
Then Roman reached into his jacket.
Sadi froze.
“Absolutely not.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“If that is a ring, put it away.”
Roman stared at her.
Then slowly removed a velvet box.
Sadi covered her face.
“Roman.”
“It is not—”
“No.”
“You have not seen it.”
“I do not care.”
He looked genuinely confused.
“You are saying no before I ask?”
“Yes.”
A laugh escaped him.
Sadi lowered her hands.
“I love you.”
Roman stopped laughing.
The words had never been said.
Not by either of them.
Sadi’s heart pounded.
“I love you,” she repeated. “But I have only just learned how to choose my own life. I opened this business three months ago. My family is still repairing itself. You are still figuring out what kind of man you want to be.”
Roman closed the box.
He did not look angry.
He looked moved.
“That is the most beautiful rejection I have ever received.”
“You have been rejected before?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
He put the box away.
Sadi stepped closer.
“Ask me again when we are not surviving a crisis.”
Roman touched her waist.
“How long?”
She smiled.
“That sounds like negotiation.”
“It is.”
“One year.”
“Six months.”
“Twelve.”
“Nine.”
“Twelve.”
Roman sighed.
“You are ruthless.”
“I learned from my boyfriend.”
He kissed her forehead.
“One year.”
Sadi smiled against his shirt.
For once, saying no did not cost her love.
It proved she had chosen the right kind.
Sadi did not tell Celeste about the engagement immediately.
She wanted twenty-four hours that belonged only to her and Roman.
They spent the next morning walking along the lake.
No photographers.
No staff.
Roman wore sunglasses and a baseball cap Sadi insisted made him look “like a suspicious suburban father.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I own no minivan.”
“That is the only thing saving you.”
Roman took her hand.
The ring caught the winter light.
Sadi kept looking at it.
Not because of the diamond.
Because she had chosen when it appeared on her hand.
Roman noticed.
“Too large?”
“No.”
“We can change it.”
“Stop.”
“I am asking.”
She smiled.
“It is perfect.”
They stopped near the water.
Roman looked out across the gray lake.
“Are you frightened?”
“Yes.”
He turned.
Sadi appreciated that he did not look offended.
“Good,” he said.
“Good?”
“I am frightened too.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Of marriage?”
“Of failing at it.”
The confession touched her more than certainty would have.
Sadi rested her head against his shoulder.
“We probably will fail at parts.”
Roman frowned.
“This is not reassuring.”
“We will get things wrong. We will argue.”
“I know.”
“You will try to solve something I did not ask you to solve.”
“Unlikely.”
She lifted her head.
Roman sighed.
“Likely.”
“I will shut down when I should speak.”
“I will notice.”
“I know. That will annoy me.”
“I know.”
Sadi smiled.
“And then we try again.”
Roman looked at her.
“That is marriage?”
“I think that is most things.”
He kissed her forehead.
That afternoon they told Bianca first.
Bianca screamed so loudly Noah ran in thinking someone had been injured.
Then they told Nabil.
He hugged Roman.
Roman looked more uncomfortable with the hug than he had with armed threats.
Finally, Celeste arrived.
Sadi held out her hand.
Her mother stared at the ring.
Then at Sadi.
For a terrifying second, old habits appeared in her expression.
The questions.
The planning.
The urge to take control.
Celeste inhaled.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Are you happy?”
Sadi blinked.
That was all.
“Yes.”
Celeste’s face crumpled.
Then I am happy.”
She hugged her daughter.
No criticism.
No guest list.
No advice.
Sadi closed her eyes.
May you like
People changed slowly.
Sometimes so slowly you missed it until one sentence arrived exactly where an old wound had once been.
