The penthouse suite of The St. Regis was drowning in quiet luxury, high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, and soft jazz humming low in the background. Roman Vance stood at the window, bourbon in hand, watching the city pulse with a life that didn’t care for his turmoil.

Behind him, Sloane Carter slid one arm around his waist and pressed her body against his back, silk against muscle. “You’re a million miles away,” she whispered.

Roman didn’t move. “Not quite a million.”

“I flew in from D.C. for you,” she said, lips brushing his shoulder. “And you’ve barely touched your drink... or me.”

He sighed and turned, letting the bourbon rest on the console. “That what you want? Me to touch you?”

Her eyes lit with challenge. “I want everything, Roman.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he closed the distance and kissed her. It wasn’t gentle, it was sharp, hungry, a bite of escape. Clothes came off quickly. Her dress slid down her legs as his mouth found the line of her neck, and she gasped when he lifted her onto the velvet chaise near the window. She wrapped around him easily, like muscle memory. It was familiar, fast, fiery. But something in him stayed just out of reach, like he was borrowing someone else’s body for the moment.

After, Sloane stretched like a cat, the sheet wrapped loosely around her waist, her long, toned legs peeking out. “Okay. Spill.”

Roman ran a hand through his hair. “It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“She’s back in my life.”

Sloane’s body tensed. “Leila.”

He nodded once.

She sat up straighter, wrapping the sheet tighter. “The one who broke your heart? What, you run into her and suddenly forget how that felt?”

“She has a kid.” Roman said quietly. “A boy.”

Sloane blinked. “Is he yours?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing.”

“And you’re not demanding a DNA test?”

“I haven’t had the chance. Her sister said... the boy belongs to someone else. Nathan, her fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Sloane scoffed. “Let me guess. That’s recent news.”

“Conveniently recent.”

She leaned forward. “Listen, Roman. I don’t know what she’s told you, but women like that, women who lie about babies and fiancés don’t just change overnight.”

“She wasn’t always like this.”

“Right. But she left you, didn’t she? For her sister’s happiness?” Sloane rolled her eyes. “That’s either tragic or manipulative. Either way, don’t be an idiot.”

He said nothing.

She softened her tone. “I’m not saying this because I want more from you. Okay, maybe I do. But I’m also not the one playing mind games. Don’t let a pair of cinnamon eyes and past memories ruin what you’ve built.”

Roman stood, jaw tightening. He walked to the minibar, poured another bourbon, and stared down into the glass.

Sloane’s voice floated over softly this time. “Just... don’t trust her so easily. Especially not with your heart. Or your legacy.”

Roman took a long sip.

New York glittered outside, bright and wild. But his mind was back in that small bakery in California, staring into a little boy’s storm-gray eyes.

He looked just like him.

And no matter how hard Roman tried... he couldn’t forget it.

He stayed silent long after she drifted off to sleep, the city keeping vigil with him. He couldn’t get Eli’s face out of his head. Or Leila’s voice. Or the way she still looked at him like something they lost was still burning between them.

But Sloane was right about one thing.

He wouldn’t be played again.

The sun was unusually bright for a fall morning, but Leila welcomed the warmth as she sat on a stone bench near the student café. She cradled a lukewarm coffee in her hands, half-listening to the buzz of campus life around her, students rushing to class, music blaring from someone’s speaker, the scent of cinnamon rolls wafting from the nearby bakery kiosk. Cinnamon again. It seemed like the universe was mocking her.

“I swear this lecture was designed to kill brain cells,” Zara said, dropping beside her with an exaggerated sigh. Her braids bounced as she unzipped her hoodie, revealing a faded “Harvard Law” shirt she wore ironically. “Please tell me you took notes. Like, legible ones.”

Leila smiled weakly and pushed her notebook toward her friend. “Mostly doodles of murder weapons, but sure. Enjoy.”

Zara snorted, flipping open the pages. “Ah yes, the psychological effects of caffeine withdrawal paired with sexy stick figures. A masterpiece.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Zara’s tone shifted. “Okay, spill. You’ve been spacing out for two days straight. Did something happen? Is it about Eli?”

Leila’s chest tightened. “It’s... a lot.”

Zara didn’t press. She never did. That was her gift. She waited.

So Leila talked. Not everything, not yet but enough. About Roman. About his sudden reappearance. About how seeing him again stirred something both familiar and painful. She didn’t mention the lie. Or how Talia had thrown Eli into the middle of it like a grenade.

“And this Roman guy,” Zara said slowly, stirring her iced latte, “he’s the same one?”

Leila nodded. “The only one.”

Zara whistled. “Damn.”

They were quiet again. Leila’s phone buzzed on the bench between them. A text from Aunt Carmen:

Eli just asked why your ‘friend’ with the grumpy face didn’t come back. Also, he’s eaten two cookies and is now using the flour bin as a sandbox. Help.

She smiled despite herself. “I need to head back soon. Eli’s waging war in the kitchen.”

Zara tilted her head. “And what about Roman?”

“What about him?”

Her friend narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to tell him?”

Leila’s stomach twisted. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not that simple.”

“No, it’s never that simple,” Zara said gently. “But he deserves to know. And so does Eli.”

A knot formed in Leila’s throat, but she nodded. She wasn’t ready. But maybe soon.

Zara looped an arm around her shoulders. “And hey, if he acts like a jerk again, I’ll key his ridiculously expensive car. I’ve always wanted to commit a felony.”

Leila laughed, and for the first time in days, it felt real.

But even laughter couldn’t stop the ache in her chest. Because whether she told him or not, Roman Vance wasn’t just back in town.

He was back in her life. And in her son’s.

And that changed everything.