Roman's eyes widened, just a fraction, before he forced himself to be calm. Estelle held his gaze for a beat longer, then her smile softened into something almost affectionate.
"You can decide," she murmured. "And when you're ready, smile for the cameras."
Before he could respond, she leaned in, her heart pounding hard against her ribs as her lips brushed his. The touch was brief, controlled, but convincing. Warmth flared, sharp and dangerous, before she pulled away just as quickly and turned back to the press.
Roman lingered for half a second, caught in the aftershock, then exhaled and followed her lead, a smile settling onto his face like armor. Around them, the room buzzed louder now, whispers, scribbling pens, the relentless clicking of cameras.
A reporter leaned forward, extending a recorder toward them. "Out of curiosity," he said, his eyes sharp, "are you really in love? Because we can clearly see some tension."
