Page 31

Roman, ever the voice of reason, spoke up before I could melt into the floor. “That’s not necessary, Lucien. We’re here to socialize, not perform.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely necessary. I can tell everything I need to know about a couple based on how they karaoke together. Chemistry. Coordination. Trust.” His gaze bounced between us, like he was already dissecting our weaknesses.

I opened my mouth to protest, but someone, some traitor, appeared from the shadows near the bar and flipped a switch.

Suddenly, the far corner of the room lit up. A tiny stage came to life, bathed in purple and gold spotlights that flickered dramatically. A smoke machine hissed out a puff of sugary fog. A karaoke screen blinked on, the words SING YOUR HEART OUT scrolling by in Comic Sans.

Lucien thrust his phone into my hands. “Pick something. I want to see the magic.”

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 tapped Islands in the Stream.

Roman arched a brow. “Seriously?”

“It was that or Total 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—he owned it.

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 to click in 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 was divine. 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.”