Chapter 19
Rowan's POV
As I passed the master bedroom, I heard water running in the bathroom.
I pushed the door open. The room smelled faintly of body wash. I tossed my suit jacket onto the bed and unfastened my cufflinks.
My mind flashed back to this afternoon's meeting.
Lena standing at the whiteboard, explaining the risk assessment framework in that calm, professional voice. She'd been courteous to everyone, even maintained a polite smile with Nora.
Only with me had she been purely business. Cold. Distant.
Like nothing existed between us except work.
I yanked at my tie. It felt too tight.
Then I remembered the name I'd overheard on that phone call—Daniel Whitmore.
Emily had called him "gentle," "respectful," "well-matched in terms of background."
In other words, a better fit for Lena's next contract marriage than I'd ever been.
I pressed my fingers to my temple.
The thought made me want to break something.
The bathroom door opened.
Lena emerged wrapped in a bathrobe, hair still dripping. She saw me and paused mid-step, then continued toward the vanity.
"You're back." Her voice was even, like she was greeting a roommate.
"Yeah." I watched her reflection in the mirror.
Wet strands clung to the back of her neck. The collar of her robe hung loose, revealing a sliver of collarbone. Water droplets traced down her skin and disappeared into the fabric.
I suddenly remembered those nights.
Her beneath me, hair spread across the pillow, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with want. Back then she'd been soft, responsive, nothing like this ice queen standing in front of me now.
Back then, she'd been... easier to deal with.
"Rowan." Her voice cut through my thoughts. "Starting tomorrow, you'll sleep in the guest room."
I looked up and met her eyes in the mirror.
"Why?"
"The contract ends in three weeks." She turned to face me, arms crossed over her chest. "There's no point maintaining... this arrangement anymore."
"This arrangement?" I let out a short laugh. "Lena, we're still married. Legally, for another three weeks."
"Exactly why we should sleep separately." Her tone was firm. "It's better for everyone."
"Better for everyone?" I stood slowly, unbuttoning the top of my shirt. "Or better for you and Daniel Whitmore?"
Something flickered in her eyes, but she recovered quickly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't you?" I moved toward her, step by deliberate step. "Let me refresh your memory—last night, when you were on the phone with Emily discussing your next suitable match, I was right outside the door."
Her expression shifted slightly.
"So what?" She took a step back, but her voice stayed steady. "That's my private business. It has nothing to do with you."
"Nothing to do with me?" I took another step forward, backing her against the wall. "Lena, our contract isn't over yet. And you're already keeping your distance for the next guy?"
"I'm not—"
"Then why the separate rooms?" I cut her off, planting my hand against the wall beside her head, trapping her between my body and the plaster. "Afraid I'll touch you? Or afraid you won't be able to control yourself?"
She lifted her chin, eyes cold as winter. "Rowan, let me go."
"No."
I stared into her eyes.
Her lashes trembled. Her breathing had gone uneven. But she kept her chin up, refusing to show weakness.
I knew that look too well.
She'd worn it in bed—stubborn as hell with her words while her body told me everything I needed to know.
My hand drifted toward her waist almost unconsciously.
I wanted to grip her there like I used to, make that icy mask crack.
But my fingers had barely touched the fabric of her robe when I stopped.
No.
Not like this.
I took a breath and grabbed her wrist instead.
"According to the agreement," I said, voice low, "both parties are obligated to fulfill each other's... reasonable needs. Remember?"
"That's referring to—"
"Exactly what you think it's referring to." I pressed my thumb against the pulse jumping in her wrist. "So, Lena, until this contract expires, you're still my wife. And you still have obligations to fulfill."
She shoved at my chest.
Not hard, but I wasn't braced for it. I stumbled back half a step.
"You—"
Before she could finish, I caught her wrist and pulled.
She lost her balance and fell toward me.
I caught her and pushed her down onto the bed.
She struggled to get up. I used my weight to pin her, hands braced on either side of her head.
"Rowan!" She glared up at me, real emotion finally breaking through—anger, and underneath it, a flash of panic.
"What?" I lowered my head until our breaths mingled. "You're the one who keeps talking about fulfilling the contract. So let's fulfill it. Every day until it ends."
"This is coercion—"
"Coercion?" I smiled without humor. "Lena, your heartbeat is giving you away."
Her face went red.
Then she shoved at me with everything she had. "Get off me!"
I didn't move.
Just stared down at her, taking in the fury in her eyes, the hurt, and that tiny flicker of something else she'd never admit to—
My phone rang.
It was in my jacket pocket, the ringtone cutting through the silence like a knife.
Lena used the distraction to push at me again. "Answer your damn phone!"
I bit back a curse and rolled off her.
Grabbed the phone. Jack.
"What?" My tone wasn't friendly.
"Boss, the Kane family just sent an email. Nora's heading to Oakridge tomorrow for a site visit. They're hoping you'll accompany her—"
"No." I cut him off. "She can go alone."
"But—"
"No buts." I hung up.
When I turned around, Lena was already off the bed, retying her bathrobe with sharp, precise movements.
"Get out." She spoke without looking at me, voice colder than I'd ever heard it. "I need to sleep."
I stared at her narrow back.
Wanted to say something. Anything.
But nothing came out.
I walked to the door. Closed it behind me.
Stood in the hallway, back against the wall, eyes closed.
My thoughts were a mess.
What the hell was I doing?
Why couldn't I just leave her alone?
I knew she'd made up her mind to leave. I knew this was just a transaction. Always had been.
So why couldn't I stop myself from pushing closer, from touching her, from trying to make her remember I existed?
I pressed my palms to my temples.
Three weeks.
Three weeks left.
Then she'd move on to Daniel Whitmore or whoever else checked all the right boxes on her list.
And I'd go back to pretending I didn't give a damn.
Just like I always had.