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Let it be known that Roman thought all of Daisy's brothers were assholes. All four of them. All of them had names that sounded like the name of someone who got shoved into lockers too; Clancy, Clement, Daniel, Percy.
Like, seriously—Clancy? Who named their kid that? Daisy’s obnoxious parents, that’s who.
Luckily for Clancy, he was too tall for wedgies and he had his prick of a father’s sharp eyes—the kind that reminded Roman of his own dad—Roman could respect that; it certainly wasn’t because he was afraid of the 19-year-old boy.
Anyway, the Albrecht boys were just a bunch of stiff-necked nerds who wouldn’t have known what to do with a proper fistfight if it bit them in their overpriced slacks.
(No, not even Daniel. He had clearly cheated last time they fought).
Boys who didn’t know what it really meant to be a man.
Unfortunately for Roman, his father seemed to think they were the ideal role models. “Upright boys,” he’d said.
Boys like the Albrechts.
Not girls like Daisy.
Boys should play with boys. And Roman needed to learn, needed to "network", needed to stop scowling like a feral dog—because his father’s future depended on it.
So here he was.
Ten years old and vibrating with rage, arms crossed, spine rigid, stuck between the nerd duo, Clancy and Clement, droning on about some math exam—YUCK! Who even talks about math in a party?—and the Game Boy goblins, Daniel and Percy, hunched over a pixelated Pac-Man screen.
Roman wasn’t even allowed to bring his Game Boy because “You’re here to talk, Roman, not play.”
As if those pricks were worth talking to.
All of them tall and light-eyed, all wearing the same smug, polished expression. Like their parents.
Not like Daisy.
Not like Roman.
Special. Different.
They stood in a neat little row, like penguins in tuxedos—stiff, over-gelled, and unbearably smug.
Roman glared at them from beneath his lashes. Meanwhile, Daisy was across the courtyard with his mom and her mom, looking bored out of her mind while the two women gossiped.
She was wearing a simple white dress with puffy sleeves, her black hair tied into a low bun.
She looked... nice.
She looked… soft.
The kind of nice that made something in his chest tighten—like he’d swallowed a coin.
The kind of soft that made his chest clench like he’d swallowed a rock.
She must’ve felt his stare, because she turned toward him. Just a small smile, a quirk of her lips and those doll-like, beady and shining eyes that turned to crescent moons whenever she does that.
Roman’s fingers dug into his elbows. Stupid. He scowled back. His stomach flipped traitorously. Probably the shrimp puffs. Why was she smiling anyway? This whole thing was boring.
He didn’t even know whose party it was. The Rosa? Rosu? Someone important, probably.
His parents had been invited.
Daisy’s parents too.
He’d overheard something about his dad needing support for a “promotion.” He wasn’t sure what a promotion was, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with why his father had been dragging them to so many parties lately—ones hosted by the Albrechts, the Novotnys, and the de Varnets.
The Important People.
The ones who mattered.
The ones whose boys Roman was supposed to talk to instead of girls like Daisy, yet his feet shifted—just an inch—toward Daisy.
“Stop looking at her.”
Roman turned. Daniel was glaring at him, lip curled like he’d caught him doing something disgusting.
Roman wrinkled his nose, his jaw muscles ticking. “I can do whatever I want.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on that mutt, Calignione?” Percy grinned like a hyena. His grin was the kind that begged for a fist in it, the kind that made you want to punch his face until it dropped.
Roman’s knuckles whitened. His gaze flicked to their father, Finn Albrecht, standing a few feet away, deep in conversation with his own father. His father laughed too loud, his hand clapping Finn’s shoulder like they were old friends.
Roman knew better.
"Shut up. Don’t call her that," Roman snapped, his fists shaking. "Or I’ll—"
“Roman and Daisy, sitting in a tree—” Percy sing-songed, loud enough that Clancy and Clement glanced over. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G—”
Roman’s vision tinted red. He wanted to break Percy’s and Daniel’s nose. Wanted to see him bleed. But his father was right there, schmoozing with Finn Albrecht, and if he threw a punch now, he’d never hear the end of it.
“Percy.” Clancy’s voice cut in, smooth and cold. “Enough.”
Clancy’s voice cut through the taunts. At nineteen, he was the oldest, and his tone carried the same cold authority as his father’s—except without the creeping dread that clung to Finn like cologne.
Percy rolled his eyes but shut up, and for a moment, Roman thought that was the end of it. Daniel, though, couldn’t resist one last dig.
“It’s not like Roman could marry her anyway. The mutt is our mutt.”
Something ugly coiled in Roman’s gut. “What the hell does that mean?”
Daniel smirked. “Just because she’s a mutt doesn’t mean we’ll breed her with just anyone.”
Breed.
The word hung in the air, thick and rancid. Roman didn’t fully get it, but he knew it was wrong, because this time even Percy looked surprised, like Daniel had crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed. His voice a rushed, hushed whisper—“Daniel. Shut up.”
But Daniel was on a roll now, drunk on his own cruelty. “Father says she’ll marry someone important when she’s older. Probably an old rich man who is like ninety years old, but still very rich and powerful.” He leaned in, grinning. “Definitely not you.”
“Percy.”
Clancy Albrecht’s voice. Quieter. Calmer. Deadlier than Roman had ever heard him.
The boys froze.
Clancy didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. His gaze flicked to Daisy, who looked at them in concern, then back to the boys. “We do not air family matters in public.”
But before Clancy could finish his sentence, Roman swung his fist.
Something in him had snapped.
It was the word. Breed.
It was the smirk. Definitely not you.
It was everything his father told him to swallow.
Everything he wasn’t supposed to feel.
Everything that made Daisy herself—her softness, her kindness, her small half-moon smile—and how they talked about her like she wasn’t real.
Like she wasn’t herself.
Roman’s fist connected with Daniel’s jaw with a sickening crack. The force of it sent Daniel stumbling back, his hand flying to his split lip as blood welled between his fingers. For a second, the world seemed to freeze—Percy’s mocking grin slipped, Clancy’s eyes flickered with shock and even Clement, who had been ignoring the whole scene, finally looked up from his book.
Then chaos erupted.
Daniel lunged, tackling Roman to the ground. They rolled across the polished marble, a tangle of fists and snarls, until Clancy wrenched them apart with terrifying ease.
Daniel wiped his mouth, his teeth stained pink. "You’re dead, Calignione," he spat, blood still dripping from his chin. “dead.”
Roman didn’t answer. His lip was bleeding, his shirt rumpled, his chest heaving.Clancy’s hand was still on his shoulder, but Roman shrugged it off, glaring at him like he might swing again.
Clancy didn’t flinch. Just stared down at him with that strange, unreadable expression.
Roman’s hair clung to his forehead in sweaty strands, his jaw slick with blood. Daniel was worse—split lip, bruising already blooming around his eye like a sick flower.
“I told you,” Roman growled, voice low and shaking, “don’t talk about her like that.”
“I talk about that bitch however I want!” Daniel hissed.
Roman lunged again. This time, his fist caught Daniel square in the nose—crunch—and the older boy howled, blood gushing down his chin. Percy yelped and jumped in, grabbing Roman from behind in a sloppy headlock. Roman elbowed him in the ribs, twice, until Percy wheezed and let go.
Behind them, Gasps, mutters. The adults turning, shocked faces, clinking glasses gone still. Roman’s father stalked toward them, face thundercloud-dark, while Daisy’s mother was already pulling her towards herself as Daisy resisted, craning her neck to look back at Roman.
Her eyes—scared, worried, wide—met his. She didn’t smile this time.
Then—
"ROMAN."
His father’s voice. Thunderous.
Roman froze mid-swing, fist still clenched in Daniel’s collar. The entire party had gone silent. Finn Albrecht’s face was purple with rage, his mother’s nails dug into her clutch, and his father—
Disappointment can’t even describe what his father felt.
Roman didn’t answer. He didn’t look at Daniel, He didn’t look at his father. He was looking only at Daisy before he quickly shot his gaze on the floor, his fists trembling at his sides. His fists were shaking, half from adrenaline, half from shame he couldn’t name.
Roman wanted to walk to her, he didn’t know why exactly but he wanted to yet before he could, he was dragged off first, his father’s grip iron-tight around his arm.
“What the hell were you thinking? In front of everyone?! In front of The Albrecht?!” he hissed under his breath, voice low and venomous. “You idiot. Do you know what you’ve just done?”
Roman’s mother’s face was red with mortification, feet rushing to his side but not enough for it to be uncouth. “Apologize, Roman” his mother snapped. “Now.”
Roman’s lip curled, defiant. But he felt the hand clamp around his arm, yanking him upright.
“Mr. Rosseau,” someone said. The host. Rosseau himself—a portly man in his sixties, old money through and through, with soft leather shoes and a gait of some born with the proper manner.
“Bring him to the parlor,” Rosseau said coolly, sipping from a crystal glass with a polite smile on his face. “Let the boy cool down somewhere private.”
Roman was dragged by his ear into the Rosseau’s parlor—a room of dark wood, leather-bound books, and a chandelier that dripped crystal like frozen tears. His father didn’t yell. Worse. He spoke in that quiet, venomous tone that meant Roman had embarrassed him.
"You do not brawl in a gentleman’s gathering, I don't care where the fuck you fight but not fucking here and certainly not with Finn Albrecht's fucking sons!"
Roman’s jaw ached from clenching it. "They called Daisy—"
"I don’t care what they called her." His father’s cufflink glinted as he waved a hand. "The Albrechts are allies. Their daughter is not your damn concern."
Not your concern. The words curdled in Roman’s gut.
His father shoved him forward with a growl, “Sit there. Don’t fucking move or I swear to god Roman, I'll break your legs.”
“We’ll talk later,” his mother said, voice cool and flat but her eyes are filled with concern. “Don’t touch anything.”
“We’re speaking to the Albrechts.” His father hissed, still fuming with barely controlled rage “if you’ve ruined this for me, Roman—if you’ve dragged my name through the mud over some little girl—you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”
His mother, pale and quiet, eyes glassy with embarrassment and fear, only nodded along. They both turned and out into the courtyard, laughter already picking up again as the party pretended nothing had happened. Roman knew they were smoothing things over with the Albrechts.
And then silence.
The door clicked shut behind them. The guest lounge smelled like old perfume and citrus polish. Marble fireplace, silk-upholstered chairs, parlor lined with books no one read and portraits of dead men who stared like they disapproved of everything.
Roman stood in the center, stiff and aching and furious.
His fists throbbed.
His lip was swelling.
Every part of him felt wrong—skin too tight, eyes hot.
The room was too clean, too quiet.
He hated it.
He hated them.
He didn’t cry.
Roman Calignione didn’t cry.
But he sat on the stiff chair, breathing hard, the metallic taste of blood still thick in his mouth.
His fingers shakily brush on his broken knuckles.
He was still sitting there, kicking the leg of an antique side table, relishing the way it rattled the delicate porcelain figurines on top when the door creaked open again.
Soft footsteps. A rustle of cotton.
“…Roman?”
He looked up.
Daisy slipped in, carefully closing the door behind her. The hallway light pooled around her for a moment before vanishing, leaving the room in soft shadow and gold. She was still in that white dress, but the ribbon was gone from her hair, and her skirt were wrinkled like she’d been running. In one hand, she carried a glass of water. In the other, what looked like a towel.
Roman blinked. “What are you—?”
“Shhh.”
She crossed the carpet in bare feet, the solemn hush of a nurse about her. Without a word, she crouched in front of him and wet the towel. Her hands moved with quiet efficiency, but her face was soft with worry.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, and her voice was low. “Tilt your head.”
He flinched back.
She didn’t answer. Just walked straight past the gold-inlaid settee and set the glass down on a side table.
“Head, Roman.”
“…Daisy—”
“Please.”
He hesitated and obeyed, tilting his head. Just a little.
Her fingers were warm against his jaw as she turned his face toward the light. The cloth dabbed gently at the blood on his lip. She frowned, not in anger, but concentration, the way she did when sewing up a tear or fixing her ribbon in the mirror.
She dabbed the blood off his split lip carefully, frowning as she worked. “They’re saying you started it.”
“I did.”
“You punched Daniel.”
“He deserved it.”
She paused. “Why?”
Roman clenched his jaw. “Because they called you a mutt. Said they were gonna bre—” His throat tightened. “Married you of to some old guy. Said you weren’t for people like me.”
She dabbed at his lip with the towel, gentle but unflinching. “You shouldn’t have hit him.”
“I wanted to.” He winced. “You heard what he said. He called you a mutt!”
“I know.” her hands stilled for a second. Then, she dipped the towel in water, wrung it out, and kept working, her voice soft like a resigned sigh. “Still stupid. They call me that all the time."
"Well, they shouldn’t." His voice came out sharper than he meant it to.
For a while it was quiet. Another silence. Long and careful.
She worked in silence, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, brushing his cheekbone. Her touch was cautious but kind. She smelled faintly of orange juice and fresh flowers. Something bright. Something sweet. Something not this house.
“You didn’t have to,” she said, softly. “Defend me.”
“Yes I did.”
Her hand stilled and again, “Why?”
Roman was ten. Angry, small, messy.
Daisy—who feels like she's much older than eight and much older than him—was the only soft thing in his life, and they were already trying to take her away.
Make her theirs. Reduce her to something to give away.
She's not.
He looked up at her then. Really looked.
Her eyes were darker than he remembered. Not deep brown-black, of glimmering night sky with the thousands glimmering stars that she prayed too.
Daisy is pretty.
Not like the actress he’d seen on tv or the model he’d seen his father with, all sharp edges and pouting lips. She was pretty like morning light —the kind that made you squint and look away before it burned you. She’s pretty like his mother, soft hands and pure eyes.
“Because you’re not theirs,” he said, voice shaking.
The words hung between them. Somewhere outside, a champagne glass shattered. Someone laughed. The party went on without them, but here, in this too-quiet room, the world had narrowed to just Daisy's hands on his face and the utterly terrible, utterly wonderful thing he'd just said.
Daisy's cheeks pinkened and she blinked at Roman.
Then smiled—small, real.
She didn’t really understand what he meant but her heart pounded fast, Daisy flushed. “You’re not so stupid, you know,” she said, then immediately backpedaled, flustered. “N-no! What I meant to say is… I mean you still punched someone at a fancy party like an idiot, but—"
Roman was frowning again, shoulders tense, his gaze flickering toward the floor like he wasn’t sure if she was scolding him or… something else.
She stared at him for a beat.
Leaned forward.
—then Daisy kissed him.
Kinda, she kissed his cheek and a bit of his lips.
It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It was quick and clumsy, just a press of lips to the corner of his cheek, where the skin was split and still stung, awkward and warm and over before either of them could fully register it.
But it was real.
Roman froze.
His brain short-circuited.
His heart stopped. Or leapt. Or something.
Oh.
She’d kissed him.
OH.
Not like in the movies. Not slow, not glittery, not anything like what his older cousin teased him about. Just a quick, serious, clumsy kiss on the cheek like it meant everything and nothing at the same time. A kiss that wasn’t perfect but mattered anyway.
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe.
Roman froze. His breath caught like a hiccup in his chest. For a second he didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. His lip stung where hers had touched the cut, but he didn’t care. Not even a little. His whole body locked up. His ears went hot. His brain, previously crowded with rage and shame and adrenaline, went completely, violently blank.
Gentle.
Innocent.
But it made Roman jolt like he’d been struck by lightning.
He couldn’t breathe.
Daisy pulled back fast, eyes wide, face going red like she’d just realized what she’d done. Her hands twisted nervously in the damp towel. “I just—I thought—I mean, for the blood, and—sorry, I—”
Roman just stared at her. Open-mouthed. Blinking. He touched his cheeks like he couldn’t believe it happened. “Did you just—?”
“It wasn’t a real kiss!” she burst. Her face flamed. “I mean—it was, but not like that. I just thought—” she broke off. “Shut up!”
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t tease her.
He just said, in a very quiet, breathless way, “You kissed me.”
“On the cheek!”
“Same thing!”
“It’s not! I..I…” She covered her red round face with her small hands, but as quickly, she peeked through her fingers at him. Her voice came out small. “Do you… hate me now?”
Roman stared at her. She looked miserable. Embarrassed. Lovelier than anyone he knew.
He shook his head, slowly. “No. I don’t hate you.”
Daisy bit down on her lip, eyes darting sideways. “Good. That was just for being brave,” she muttered. “Not because I like you or anything. Just—don’t do something that dumb again.”
Roman kept staring at her.
Then touched his cheek. Not dramatically—just once, gently. Like he was checking for a bruise, or a mark, or a miracle. Just something that could prove it really happened.
His throat worked. “Okay,” he mumbled, his voice weirdly high.
Then she looked down at her hands, fidgeting. “Because… I was gonna say something before I did that. Before I messed it all up.”
He watched her.
Quiet.
Waiting.
She took a breath. “I was going to say… if you’re willing to wait—like… a really long time, like years or whatever—then maybe I’ll… maybe I’ll marry you. One day. If you still want.”
Roman’s brain short-circuited.
What.
“What,” he said aloud.
Her eyes darted up. “I said maybe! Don’t make it weird.”
Roman was silent for another beat. His ears were red. His whole face was red. His knuckles throbbed. His jaw hurt. He couldn’t feel his cheek. His stomach was doing some kind of backflip he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the shrimp puffs anymore.
He didn’t know what it meant or why his chest felt full and tight and terrifying all at once.
He didn’t know what to say. What to do.
He kept staring.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Daisy mumbled, cheeks still pink against her pale skin.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“…You kissed me.”
“Roman!”
“I mean I was just-I was just thinking!” his voice suddenly a full octave deeper like he was trying to sound like a grown-up. He shifted in his seat. Sat up straighter. Swiped his hand through his hair like boys on TV did when they were trying to look cool.
It would have been effective if Roman had longer hair.
Unfortunately for him, his mother always brought him to the hairdresser once in a few months to keep his hair short and neat.
in an army buzzcut.
She blinked at him. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just. Sitting. Normal.”
“You look weird.”
He scowled harder. “You look weird.”
“No, I’m not! Ugh!” She groaned and dropped her forehead into her hands, mortified. “Okay, I’m going to leave now before I die of humiliation—”
But she didn’t move.
Neither did he.
They sat there, in the hush of a too-big room, on the edge of something unnamed. Not quite before, not quite after. Just a boy with blood drying on his lip, and a girl with little hands wet from water, and something fragile between them that hadn’t figured out what it wanted to become yet.
Not yet.
Her hand lingered near his on the armrest. Neither of them looked at each other now.
“…Thanks, Roman,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For being on my side.”
He looked down, ears burning. “I didn’t do it for a thank-you.”
“I know.” She sat beside him, legs swinging just above the carpet. “You did it because you’re stupid.”
He made a small sound of protest, but she was already talking again, quieter this time.
“You shouldn’t fight. But…” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “It was brave.”
Roman didn’t know what to say.
The room was still quiet but not cold anymore—it didn't feel heavy, just full.
Then, like it was something she’d been holding for a long time, she said, “They think I’m not good enough for you too.”
Roman’s heart hiccuped. “I—what?”
Daisy tilted her head.
Roman stiffened. “…Who says that?”
Daisy just shrugged, her eyes—weird and beautiful were sad.
His heart hiccuped. “I—I think…You’re better than anyone I know, Daisy kim.”
Daisy turned to him and smiled again, something soft and something bright.
“Good. You’re one of the best people I know too, Roman. But you have to stop punching people.” Her hand brushed the broken skin of his fist “I'm just saying. If you want to marry me one day, you have to be better than them. Stronger. Nicer. Not just punchy.”
Roman’s ears were on fire. “I—who said anything about marrying you?”
“You didn’t.” She shrugged. “But I did. And I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
She looked at him again.
“If you wait for me, I’ll marry you. One day. When we’re older.” Daisy giggled, feet swinging inches away from the floor “But you have to be strong—like, stronger than… hmm.” She scrunched her nose. “Wait, no—not as strong as Jesus. Nobody’s that strong. But close! Because Jesus is perfect, and I do wanna marry someone like him—strong arms, kind eyes, all that. And, well—” Her cheeks flushed. “He probably had abs. Carpentry’s hard work! Not that I’m looking at abs! But, y’know I'm just talking hypothetically—”
She slapped a hand over her mouth.
Silence.
A long, stunned silence.
Roman stared at her.
Like she’d just grown another head. Or turned into a cartoon character. Or called him her second choice after the literal Son of God.
“You…” He blinked. “You’ve got a crush on Jesus?”
“No!” she squeaked. “I mean—yes? But not like that! I just—I admire Him! In a strong-heroic-kind way! Not a weird way! You’re kind of like Him!”
“Kind of?!” Roman looked genuinely offended. “Jesus turns water into wine! I can’t even open a juice box without scissors!”
Daisy turned redder. “That’s not what I meant!”
He threw up his hands. “You said He had abs!”
“I was nervous!” she wailed, burying her face in her hands again. “I didn’t mean to talk about Jesus’ abs!”
Roman just stared at her, half-horrified, half-entranced. Like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve but wanted desperately to keep trying.
Then—slowly, cautiously—he said, “I can… maybe do sit-ups. If it helps.”
Daisy peeked out between her fingers, cheeks hot and feeling mortified. “Please never say that again.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry. That was weird.”
Pause.
Then Roman, stiff-backed, mumbled, “And this is dumb.”
“You’re dumb.”
“Shut up.”
“You are.”
“Wait—” Roman snorted “We were talking about that whole thing! about marrying!” He covered his face with the clean clothes she’d brought, laughing into the fabric. “You can’t just say stuff like that! And then talk about Jesus' abs!”
“Stop laughing,” she squeaked, cheeks red as strawberries. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
Roman blinked at her, his grin splitting his face. “You said Jesus has abs.”
“I panicked!” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “I was trying to say He’s, like… nice! And kind! And brave! Not—ugh, I wasn’t talking about His muscles!”
Roman stared. “You kind of were.”
“I wasn’t trying to!” she moaned, voice muffled behind her fingers. “I just meant… I want someone who’s really good. Who protects people. Whose gentle and strong and never mean on purpose.” Her voice got quieter. “Someone like that.”
Roman’s teasing faded.
She peeked out at him, mortified. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone I said all that.”
“I won’t.”
“Swear.”
“I swear,” he said. Then: “So… if I wait for you, you’d really marry me?”
Daisy froze. Her long lashes fluttered against the soft curve of her cheeks as she blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Maybe,” she whispered.
He tilted his head. “You said it like you meant it.”
“I did mean it.” Her voice wobbled a little, but she kept going. “Just not soon or anything. I just thought… if you still like me later. When we’re big. And I’m not so little and silly.”
“You’re not silly.”
She gave a tiny smile. “I am. But I try really hard to be good. And I know I’m not, like… a princess. Or someone important. But if someone wanted to marry me, I’d want it to be because they see me. Not just my name, I mean—I'm not even an Albrecht, really an Albrecht….they won't even give me their last name but still I guess for some people the association is enough—"
Roman’s throat worked. “I see you.”
She looked at him, quiet and soft and open in that way that felt like an accident. And then—just barely above a whisper, “Do you really think you’ll still want to? Later?”
Roman nodded. “Yeah. I do. I want to
Daisy blinked. “Then wait for me.”
They sat there side by side before they heard the sound of distant but approaching conversations.
Daisy quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her dress and smoothing her hair like it made her feel a little less shy before she walked to the door. “I’ll come back later. I think your dad’s still yelling.”
Roman watched her go, heart thudding like it wanted to tear out of his chest, like she’d left a spell in the room behind her.
She paused at the doorway and looked back.
“You hit Daniel really well, by the way.”
Then she slipped out.
And Roman, ten years old, bruised and bleeding and completely doomed, his face lit up as he leaned back on his chair—not smug, not cocky, but the kind of shy, glowing, gobsmacked smile that looked like it hurt his cheeks to make. His heart thudded like it might fly right out of his ribs.
Her kiss proof that he hadn’t ruined everything after all.
He’d done the right thing.
He didn’t regret it
Not one bit.
She kissed him.
She liked him.
She might marry him.
Because he had punched Daniel.
Roman didn’t care if the Albrecht's were important people.
Didn’t care if Finn Albrecht could make or break his father’s future.
Didn’t care if his own father hit him for this later, yelled about alliances and appearances and how Roman had embarrassed them both.
He’d do it again.
Because Daisy wasn’t their mutt.
She was his girl.
Sooner or later.