Roman took my hand and slowly led me out of the elevator, keeping me a safe distance from Tyler, who not only looked angry, but enraged. His fists were clenched close to his sides, and he was breathing hard, like he’d just raced a marathon to get here.

“I went to our place—your place,” he corrected quickly, “to drop off the final lease papers, showing the rent had been paid in advance in case anything happened. I wanted to check on you, to make sure you were okay, but your neighbor said you weren’t home and gave me an address you’d given her for emergencies. I guess you didn’t tell her.”

“No. You know I hate gossip,” I said fiercely.

“But I should have known,” he nearly spit, shaking his head. “I should have known you’d go running to him the first second you could. Or maybe you already had. Were you fucking him before I left you? Working your way up to the top?”

Like lightning, Roman moved. One minute, Tyler was standing in front of us, and the next, he was pinned against a wall.

“Listen up, asshole,” Roman sneered. “You’re going to leave. You’re going to leave now and forget you ever came here. Because if I see you here again? Hell, if I see you anywhere near Cara again, it will be the last thing you ever do. Got it?”

Considering Roman had him a few feet off the ground with one hand, Tyler quickly agreed to his terms before he was released, dropping to the floor like a rag doll. He stalked down the hallway and out of the lobby doorway, with nothing more than a huff.

We’d barely gotten a chance to look at each other before applause broke out. We’d been so tied up in our own business that neither of us had even noticed that others—some of Roman’s neighbors, the doorman, and a few guests—were standing by, watching.

“Seems the young boy got what he deserved,” the old lady who lived across the hall from Roman said in approval, patting him on the back on her way to the elevator.

I looked at him, wide-eyed, trying to hold back the laughter.

“And here I thought life with you would be dull and boring. Boy, was I wrong.” Roman said, shaking his head with a grin.

Truer words had never been spoken.

“This is your car?” I asked as we approached the curb.

The bellman had already pulled the car out from the garage.

“Yep.” He grinned with pride.

“It looks like something from the Indy 500.”

“Exactly. I told you, she gets great mileage. That wasn’t a lie.”

“She? Your car is a she?” I laughed.

“Only woman in my life, besides my mom—and you.”