Page 32 of The Cuddle Clause
Roman shot me a look that was part warning, part plea, but there was no time to coordinate. My thumb moved on instinct, betraying me completely. I panicked and tappedIslands in the Stream.
Roman arched a brow. “Seriously?”
“It was that orTotal Eclipse of the Heart.This felt… safer?”
He exhaled in resignation. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
We were herded onto the stage. Even through the fog, I could see Lucien’s grin. The smoke machine gave another dramatic hiss, as if this whole setup wasn’t already humiliating enough. The music started, and Roman looked like he wanted to murder someone—possibly Lucien, possibly me. I grabbed the mic like it was a life preserver and prayed I wouldn’t pass out.
And then, Roman started singing.
I’d expected awkward mumbling and an off-key disaster. But no. Roman could sing. His voice was all warm confidence. He didn’t just know the tune—heownedit.
I almost missed my cue because I was busy gaping at him. I scrambled to join in, my voice shaky and too loud, earning a squawk of feedback from the ancient speakers. Roman didn’t even flinch. He glanced at me and gave me the tiniest nod of encouragement.
We tried to move with the beat, but it was a disaster. I stepped left, he stepped right, and our feet tangled together. I bumped into his shoulder, muttered an apology, then bumped him again as I tried to recover my balance. He tried to sidestep me and accidentally backed into the mic stand.
“This is going great,” I whispered through clenched teeth, trying not to laugh at how awful we were.
“I’m not the one trying to do the Riverdance,” Roman muttered, the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
I risked a glance at the audience. Lucien was leaning forward, elbows on the table, grinning like he’d won the lottery. A few pack members, who I assumed were staff members, had their phones out and were recording. Fantastic.
And then, Roman twisted his hips, perfectly in rhythm to the music, easy and natural. It was nothing, really. Except my brain couldn’t process his hotness. Heat bloomed in my cheeks. I could feel my ears burning.
Focus, Maggie. It’s karaoke. Not a mating ritual.
I tried to recover, but my next line came out breathier than I meant it to. Roman covered the moment effortlessly, harmonizing so smoothly I nearly forgot we were making fools of ourselves.
Somewhere between the second verse and the chorus, we found our rhythm. We moved together without another awkward collision. He was warm beside me, his voice steady, his energy solid and unshakable. We started toclickin a way that felt dangerously good.
My voice steadied. My heart was still pounding, but not from panic anymore. From the rush of us, together, in sync in a way we hadn’t been since this whole fake dating mess started.
Roman leaned in for the harmony, and the sound of our voices twining together made my skin tingle. His scent cut through the haze of smoke. I swallowed hard, focusing on the screen so I wouldn’t get lost in him.
We hit the chorus together, louder this time. Roman spun me gently, catching me before I could stumble. The room blurred at the edges, all smoke and neon, and I didn’t care. I laughed—a real, startled laugh—as he dipped me low enough to make my heart race.
When the final note faded, the bar erupted in applause. But no one clapped harder than Lucien, who shot to his feet and whistled through his fingers like we’d just headlined Madison Square Garden.
Roman straightened, still holding my hand, his palm warm against mine. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered, “Next time, I pick the song.”
Lucien clapped once. “Well! That wasdivine.I simply can’t wait to see you at the pack bonding brunch. Roses. String quartets. A build-your-own oatmeal bar.” He kissed my hand again, eyes glittering. “Can’t wait to see what dress you wear, sweetheart.”
He turned on his heel, long coat fluttering behind him like a cape, and disappeared with theatrical precision.
I exhaled.
Roman sighed. “We are so screwed.”
“We are so fucking screwed.”
The sun was doingthat unfair thing where it made everything look like a dream and turned trees into silhouettes and gravel into gold. Even the alpha’s estate, ornate and intimidating and way too much, almost looked soft. Beyond the estate, the pack lands stretched on, their borders running right up against the edge of Muir Woods. I could see the towering redwoods in the distance, ancient and still, their tops catching the last of the light. The air even smelled different out here—cleaner, sharper, like moss and earth and history.
Roman led the way down a winding path behind the mansion, his hands shoved into his pockets like we weren’t in the middle of a lie big enough to bury us both. As if this was just a lazy stroll through the gardens with his girlfriend. His mate. I mean, what would the alpha of a very large, very prominent and prestigious wolf pack do to a human girl with hermit tendencies who was lying right to his face? I didn’t want to think about it.
I trailed half a step behind, arms crossed tight against my chest, every nerve still lit from the aftermath of our award-losing performance with Lucien. Roman had stiffened every time I somuch as brushed his arm. His shoulders had gone tense with every side hug. The man looked like he’d rather be interrogated by feral cats than endure ten seconds of physical affection.
There was nowayLucien had bought it. Not with my robotic Barbie smile and Roman acting like touch was a weapon.
