Chapter 7

Roman's POV

I took her in my arms, one hand beneath her knees and the other holding her bag. I walked out of the club with Derrick scurrying to keep up.

My driver was already out of the car, opening the door on my side before we even reached it. I gently placed her on the right side and slid into the left.

Within seconds, the car was in motion.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

"My house," I replied.

"Like hell you will! Drop me off at home," she said stubbornly.

"My grandfather wants to meet you, so we're doing this right now," I explained.

"What does your grandfather have to do with me? Drop me off!" she insisted, her voice sharp with irritation.

"That won't do, Avah. Relax, and I'll send you back after," I said, trying to keep my tone calm.

"Did you just call my name? How do you know my name?" she asked, confusion etched on her face.

"I know everything about you," I answered.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So, do you know me from before a year ago?" There was a flicker of hope in her gaze, fragile and uncertain.

"Unfortunately, you don't exist, past one year ago. I find it... strange. But if you want, we can investigate," I said, my voice softening. For some reason, I didn't want to crush that fragile hope, especially when she looked at me like that.

Her lips parted slightly, her expression a mix of disbelief and disappointment. For a moment, she seemed to withdraw into herself, staring out the car window with a distant look.

"One year ago," she whispered, almost to herself. "It's like my life started then, but... there's this emptiness. Like something important is missing."

I watched her carefully, noting the vulnerability in her voice. It wasn't the stubborn, fiery woman I had just met in that club; this was someone deeply wounded by the unknown.

"You'll get your answers," I said firmly. "I'll make sure of it."

She turned back to me, her eyes narrowing. "Why would you care? You don't even know me."

Her words stung in a way I didn't expect. She was right. I didn't know her, not really. But that night had changed everything. There was something about her, something I couldn't shake. And if I was being honest, I didn't want to.

"Maybe I don't know you yet," I admitted. "But I will."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the car came to a sudden halt in front of my estate. Her eyes widened as she took in the sprawling mansion, the perfectly manicured gardens, and the grand double doors that seemed to stare back at her like a challenge.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice a mix of awe and unease.

"My home," I said simply, stepping out of the car and offering her my hand.

She hesitated, staring at my outstretched hand like it was a trap. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she took it. Her touch sent an unexpected jolt through me, but I kept my face neutral.

"Let's get this over with," she muttered.

"Don't worry," I said as we walked up the grand steps together. "This is only the beginning."

I had to stop and wait for her as she took in the grand estate. The towering columns, manicured lawns, and sprawling façade always had that effect on people seeing it for the first time.

I come from a family of conglomerates. We have been wealthy for as long as I can remember. It's not just money—it's legacy, tradition, and power.

Because of that, I've encountered women whose sole purpose was to gain my attention. They've succeeded too, though never for long. I ensured none of them ever bore my child or became anything more than a temporary distraction.

They wanted money, and I had plenty to give. It was a simple transaction. Some even claimed to have fallen for me, but that was never part of the deal. Love doesn't have a place in my life.

Her eyes were wide as she stared ahead, taking in every detail of the house. The staff were already assembling outside, lining up in two neat rows on either side of the path.

"Welcome, Young Master!!" they chorused in unison.

I sighed. I've told them countless times to stop doing that, but my grandfather's old-fashioned ways ensured they kept up the tradition.

"You are a Young Master?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement as she hid her giggles behind her hand.

Did she just laugh at me for being rich? That was new.

"Keep up," I said curtly.

But, of course, she didn't. With an impatient sigh, I grabbed her hand and led her through the grand living area toward my grandfather's study. Her smaller hand fit in mine like it belonged there, not that I had time to dwell on the thought.

The door to the study swung open as we approached, and we stepped inside.

My grandfather's sharp gaze immediately dropped to our intertwined hands, his frown deepening before he shifted his attention to us.

"Take a seat," he ordered.

The old man never asks for anything. Commands are all he knows. Then again, when you've lived your life as the head of an empire, I suppose politeness becomes irrelevant.

I made sure Avah was settled comfortably before taking my own seat. She seemed nervous, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, and her usual fiery demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

"What did I tell you about women?" my grandfather began, his voice cold and cutting.

"It was an accident," I replied calmly, meeting his gaze. "But I intend to marry her."

"Marriage? To a one-night stand? Have you lost your mind?" he thundered, the sheer force of his words echoing in the room.

He spoke like Avah wasn't even there, as if her presence or opinion didn't matter in the slightest.

"Get out!" he barked suddenly, his piercing eyes locked on me.

I started to rise, Avah following suit, but his sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Not you, girl. I want to speak with you. Boy, you may leave!"

My jaw clenched. I didn't like the idea of leaving her alone with him, but defying my grandfather wasn't an option—not yet, anyway.

"I'll be right outside," I murmured to Avah, squeezing her hand briefly before letting go. She nodded, swallowing hard, her nervousness apparent.

I cast one last glance at her before walking out. I hated this feeling, knowing she was about to face the full weight of my grandfather's scrutiny, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.