Vance didn't budge. "Your father is speaking with her," he said firmly. "You'll have to wait until he's done. Then you can have her."
The words snapped something thin inside Roman. "I'm warning you, Vance." His voice dropped, low and dangerous now, and his fists curled at his sides, his knuckles whitening. "Get out of my way."
For a brief second, Vance hesitated. He caught the tension in Roman's jaw, the way the muscle ticked in his cheek, the barely restrained violence in his stance. Then instinct kicked in. Immediately, he stepped back and pushed at the door. But it didn't move.
A gasp escaped Vance's lips before he could stop it. Then he glanced down. That was when he saw Roman's hand already braced against the door, his fingers spread wide against the wood, holding it firmly in place. A slow, cold realization crept in. Roman wasn't taking no for an answer.
He looked back up, his eyes widening slightly, his breath uneven. "What are you doing, Roman?"
