Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 67: The training Room

Chapter 67: The training Room

Roman’s fingers moved with gentle precision, brushing against Julie’s cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

His touch was feather-light, tender—as if she were something fragile and precious that he never wanted to break.

She lay still beside him, her face calm in sleep, her breaths slow and even.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at Roman’s lips as he watched her.

There was something about seeing her like this, at peace and unaware, that made his heart swell with something unexplainable.

As he lay there with her—his world so full of blood and chaos—it felt as though, just by having her beside him, he had gained everything he ever wanted.

Her presence, quiet and warm, wrapped around him like a balm to his soul.

Then, her eyelashes fluttered.

A soft sound escaped her lips as her eyes slowly opened.

They were still heavy with sleep, slightly unfocused—until they met his.

At that moment, everything sharpened.

Recognition bloomed in her gaze, followed by something rawer: relief.

Her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed emotion, and in the next second, she moved.

Her arms circled around him tightly, and her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

She inhaled deeply, as if memorizing his scent, grounding herself in the truth of his presence.

"I was worried," she murmured, her voice muffled against his skin.

Roman’s hand instinctively moved to cradle the back of her head, fingers weaving into her hair as he held her close.

"Are you alright?" Julie pulled back slightly, her eyes scanning him.

Her gaze roamed over his face, his chest, his arms—searching for injuries, for signs of strain.

"I’m alright," Roman reassured her, his voice low and comforting. "I promise."

Julie let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing. "Thank God," she whispered, her fingers unconsciously brushing over his collarbone, as if needing to feel that he was real.

A beat passed between them, soft and sacred.

Then, she looked up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "But... where were you last night?" she asked, her voice tentative.

Roman smiled—a small, crooked thing that hinted at how complicated the answer was.

"I was in the underworld," he said casually, his tone light but serious. "Handling a few things. Preparing for what’s to come."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"And we need to speed up your training."

Julie blinked, taking in the sudden shift of tone. "Oh... okay," she nodded, obediently.

Roman studied her quietly.

There was something in her response—too agreeable, too silent—that made something stir inside him.

He knew she wanted to fight, to protect herself, to become stronger. But she was quiet now. Too quiet.

"Julie," he said, his voice soft but firm. "I prefer it when you argue. When you tell me how you feel."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. She tilted her head, her eyes questioning.

Roman chuckled under his breath, the sound warm and amused. "I’d actually like it if you acted spoiled sometimes," he said.

"Said something like, ’I don’t want to do it, I’m tired,’" he added, mimicking her voice in a teasingly high-pitched tone.

Roman don’t want her to keep away anything from him he want to hear it even if it will crush him.

Julie stared at him for a second, her mouth slowly parting in disbelief. Then —

Laughter exploded out of her, bright and unrestrained. Her hand flew to her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably.

Roman didn’t stop there. He kept going, his expression exaggerated, lips pursed like a dramatic actress.

"Or maybe something like, ’Oh my, I love that! I like it! Mwah!’" he said again in her small voice, blowing an imaginary kiss in the air.

Julie clutched her stomach, collapsing into a heap of laughter.

Her entire body shook with it, her eyes brimming with tears.

The sound of her joy filled the room, echoing against the walls like music.

Imagine this: Roman, the infamous cold man—the one feared by many, the one known for his deadpan expressions and reputation as the number one woman-hater—was now lying in bed, mimicking a girl’s voice and blowing kisses for the sake of making one woman laugh.

"You’re so funny," Julie choked out between bursts of laughter, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Oh, seriously?" Roman replied with mock offense, lifting his hand and waving it like a dramatic performer. "Let me help you cry, then."

And without warning, his fingers darted toward her stomach.

Julie yelped, shrieking in laughter as he tickled her mercilessly.

"Rom—s-stop!" she stuttered through her laughter, twisting and wriggling beneath his touch.

"Ro-man—ple-ase!"

He grinned, clearly enjoying her struggle, but eventually relented and pulled his hand back.

Julie lay back, gasping for breath, a sheen of tears still in her eyes, her cheeks flushed from the laughter.

She hummed softly, trying to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling quickly.

Her voice was hoarse but amused when she finally spoke. "I would have never expected you to do such a thing."

Roman raised a brow at her, amused. "What?"

Julie laughed again, more gently this time, and covered her mouth before answering. "Mimicking my voice... hehe," she said shyly.

She quickly zipped her lips when she saw his hand lift again threateningly.

Roman narrowed his eyes playfully and leaned in closer. "So now, tell me," he said, lowering his voice, "do you want to learn this and go further?"

Before she could answer, he hooked his arm around her waist and dragged her back to him like a sack of rice.

She squealed as she was pulled into his embrace, landing half on his chest, half against his shoulder.

"Roman!" she gasped, laughing again as she slapped his arm.

"What?" he said innocently, burying his face in her hair for a moment. "You’re mine. I’ll carry you like luggage if I want to."

Julie giggled, resting her head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was steady beneath her ear. Safe. Reassuring. It made her feel protected in a way words never could.

She nestled against him more, inhaling his scent—subtle sandalwood and something uniquely him.

"I want to learn," she whispered finally, lifting her eyes to meet his. "I want to fight beside you. Not because I’m not scared... but because I know what’s coming."

Roman’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently run his thumb along her cheek. "Then we’ll do it together. But remember, you can always tell me if it’s too much. This isn’t a war you’re fighting alone."

Julie nodded, her heart full.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in soft sheets and each other’s warmth.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting golden rays across the room.

The world outside might be cold and dangerous, but here, in this room—in this moment—they had carved out a sanctuary.

A place where a deadly man could be soft.

Where a girl with scars could feel loved.

Where laughter lived alongside bruises, and vulnerability didn’t make them weak—but made them human.

And slowly, as their breaths synchronized and silence settled around them, Roman leaned down and whispered, "By the way..."

Julie tilted her head to look up at him.

"If you ever say ’I like it! Mwah!’ again, I might just die from happiness."

Julie burst out laughing again, hiding her red face in his chest. "You’re never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never," Roman said, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "It’s my new favorite memory."

And with that, he held her tighter—like she was the only real thing he’d ever known.

The hallway was silent except for the soft echo of Julie’s footsteps trailing behind Roman’s longer strides

She’d followed him through parts of the house she hadn’t even known existed.

It was strange—she’d lived here for months, yet somehow, Roman always had more secrets tucked within its walls.

"Where are we going?" she asked, breath slightly quickened.

She clutched her cardigan sleeves as she walked, suddenly very aware she was still wearing soft house slippers.

"You’ll see," Roman said without turning, his voice calm, low, but with that tone that warned her not to press further.

They stopped at what looked like an ordinary wall at the end of a corridor she’d never paid attention to.

Then, Roman placed his palm flat against a panel, and a small beep followed.

With a smooth mechanical hum, the wall began to slide inward, revealing a stairway spiraling down—lit dimly with strip lights embedded into the walls.

Julie blinked. "Is this...?"

Roman looked over his shoulder at her. "Come."

The first thing Julie noticed when they reached the bottom was the air—cool, sterile, and heavy with quiet intensity.

Then the space opened up before her like a hidden world.

The room was massive. High ceilings, mirrored walls, and matte black flooring stretched out in all directions.

On one side was a full-sized boxing ring, its ropes taut and freshly wrapped.

Across from it stood heavy punching bags, speed bags, and hanging resistance cords.

Further down, the room split into separate sections—one with swords lined on a wall, another with wooden dummies, a wall full of handguns and combat knives under glass cases, and even a VR simulation booth with tactical gear stacked neatly beside it.

Julie’s mouth parted slightly in awe. "This looks like a... a military base."

Roman gave a short nod. "Almost is."

Julie stepped inside slowly, her slippers making no sound against the sleek black floor.

She turned around in a full circle, overwhelmed.

"You built all this?"

Roman’s eyes flicked to hers. "I built this for war. For survival. Every part of this mansion is designed with a purpose."

Julie swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of that purpose.

This wasn’t just about teaching her how to defend herself.

This was something deeper—preparation for a future she hadn’t yet faced.

Roman stepped toward the boxing ring and unzipped his hoodie, revealing a fitted black tank beneath.

His muscles shifted with every movement—sharp, disciplined.

His face, usually cool and unreadable, was intensely focused now, jaw clenched, eyes dark and serious.

"No distractions," he said simply. "Not here."

Julie nodded, slowly slipping off her cardigan and following him toward the ring.

Roman handed her gloves—soft leather, custom-fit for her smaller hands.

"Today we start with your stance, posture, and how to take a hit."

Julie hesitated. "Take a hit?"

Roman’s eyes softened just slightly. "Not from me. Yet. But the world won’t care how fragile you are, Julie. When they come for you, they won’t stop because you’re scared."

He helped her step into the ring, his hand firm around hers.

The ropes tightened behind her as she entered.

Julie looked up at him. He was already wrapping her hands gently, the leather sliding snug against her wrists.

Roman’s voice lowered. "I won’t let anyone touch you. But I need you to know how to hurt them if they do."

She nodded, this time more firmly.

"Show me how you stand."

Julie tried, mimicking what she thought she’d seen in movies—feet apart, fists raised.

Roman stepped forward and adjusted her gently. "Too stiff. Balance here." He tapped the inside of her knees.

"Bend. Keep your left hand closer to your cheek. Right hand here."