Harper huffs when I stick my hand out to her friend. “I’m Roman.”

“Valerie,” she says, shaking my hand. Her eyes are bouncing back and forth between Harper and me. Valerie makes the introductions to the rest of the table while Harper fumes silently beside me. When I sit back and relax, I sling my arm around her chair. She sits up straighter, not letting herself touch the back of the chair—or me.

“How do you know Harper?” Harper’s fake boyfriend, Hudson, asks. He’s been shooting daggers my way since our introduction. I don’t let it deter me. I’m getting answers from Harper’s friends.

“I’m the love of her life,” I state confidently and try to hide my grin when Harper’s eyes finally meet mine. Gotcha, Sugar.

“You are no such thing.” She turns toward Hudson, shrugging with nonchalance. “He was a fling, a long time ago. It meant nothing.” Her gaze cuts back to mine with her last sentence, making sure each of her words stab me with their intended effect. I grit my teeth, matching her glare.

“You two are so going to bang,” Valerie says. I laugh, already liking this friend of hers.

“We are not,” Harper shrieks, taking on a pitch that could break my eardrum. She takes a large drink from the wine glass in front of her. When she sets the glass down, I notice her hands are shaking. My stomach tightens at the thought of making her too uncomfortable. I love to piss her off and provoke her. But when it starts to hurt her, I can’t handle it. The last thing I want is to hurt her.

“We went to high school together,” I explain, letting the innuendos and jokes drop.

Her straight spine sags slightly when she breathes out a relieved sigh. Valerie and Savannah let it drop, but they’ll grill Harper later. I answer their seemingly endless questions. Harper relaxes a little more with each answer about my life that doesn’t involve her. She hasn’t looked at me or joined in on the conversation since I sat down at the table. When she fully rests against the back of the chair, I brush my fingers over her skin on her shoulder. Besides the tiny flinch when I first touched her, she doesn’t acknowledge me or shake me off.

“I think it’s time I ask a couple questions,” I say, chuckling after Valerie and Savannah hurl another question at me. “Savannah, Harper told me that you had some trouble last year.”

Liam tenses behind her, pulling her closer to him, and Savannah’s smile falls a tiny fraction before righting itself again. “I did,” she says warily.

“When you were going through that, did you let your friends help you?”

“What are you doing?” Harper demands.

I ignore her and watch Savannah and Liam. Liam is looking at Savannah with a crease between his brow. Savannah’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between Harper and me.

“Roman.” Harper’s lethal tone is a warning.

Savannah finally answers, keeping her eyes on Harper. “Kind of. I should have told them my troubles sooner.”

I turn my eyes to Harper. Her cheeks are filling with color and her angry eyes are glaring at me through slits. “Roman,” she says again. “Stop.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care that you’re mad. Your safety is not something I’m willing to risk.”

“We don’t even know anything.” Frustrated tears are starting to fill her eyes as the anger turns to begging.

“I know enough. I’m going to be your fucking shadow as often as I can, and if I can’t be there, I’m making sure someone else can be.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Her voice has turned to a whisper.

“They’re Plan B.” I will do anything to keep her safe, but she’ll be even safer if every person in her life knows there’s a threat out there.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks.

Harper wipes her eyes, even though no tears fell. A quick smile curves her lips up as she turns toward Liam. “Nothing. He’s overreacting.”

“Harp, what the fuck is going on?” Hudson asks.

I look around the table at her friends. Every time I dug into her life, I never looked at the people with whom she shared her life. The four men sitting at this table care about her, I can see that. They wouldn’t be able to protect her like I can, but they could help.

I explain, ignoring Harper’s protests. “Harper’s old landlord for her store sold the building out of left field to some bastard. He’s claiming to be the son of someone Harper considered her uncle. I’m not getting a good read on this situation. There’s something at play and I’m gathering intel. The bastard has his sights on Harper, showed up at her apartment today uninvited even though she never gave him her address. Don’t know much yet, but my gut says it ain’t good.”

“Who is he?” Liam asks. “Do you know him, Harper?”

She sighs and closes her eyes, completely resigned. “No, I don’t know him. His father was basically my second dad. The man I knew wouldn’t leave a child behind and be okay with him being raised in a different country. His name is Rafael Bazán.”

James’ jaw ticks at the mention of Rafael’s name. He doesn’t say a word, has barely uttered one word all night, but he knows something. Hard gray eyes meet mine, and he’s as still as a statue except for the continuous ticking of his jaw. He’s silent while the rest of the group flings questions at Harper. I narrow my eyes, watching him. He gives me a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. I look at Harper and back to him. Whatever he knows, he isn’t sharing with the group.