Chapter 110 Still Moving
Rowan
I see it the moment it happens.
Everyone else is still moving. Camille typing like her keyboard owes her money, Theo pacing while he mutters about shell corporations, Devin’s voice crackling through Rowan’s phone as he asks for file numbers, but Violet has gone completely still.
Not calm. Still. The kind of still that means the mind has gone somewhere else entirely.
Her arms are folded tight across her stomach, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on Camille’s monitors but not actually reading a single word on them.
Shutdown.
I push my chair back slowly and stand. No one notices when I move toward her. Except her.
“Come with me,” I say quietly.
She doesn’t argue. That’s how I know something is wrong.
She follows me out of the kitchen and down the hallway, away from the glow of Camille’s screens and the low hum of conversation. The farther we walk, the quieter the house becomes until it’s just the two of us and the faint ticking of the security system somewhere in the walls.
I stop near the tall windows overlooking the dark lawn.
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then I ask the question anyway.
“Are you okay?”
She answers instantly. “I’m fine.”
The words come too fast. Too rehearsed.
I turn toward her fully. “No,” I say calmly. “You’re not.”
Her chin lifts slightly. “I said I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
Her eyes flash. “I’m not.”
“Yes,” I reply evenly. “You are. So, I'm going to ask you again. Are you okay?”
She exhales sharply through her nose. “Why do you keep asking me that?” she snaps. “I already answered you.”
“Because I know you.”
She lets out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Oh really?”
“Yes.”
Her arms fold tighter.
“Well congratulations then, Rowan,” she says, her voice dripping with irritation. “I’m fine. That’s the answer. End of discussion.”
I watch her carefully for a few seconds.
Then I take a slow step toward her.
“You’re not fine,” I repeat quietly. “And you’re going to stop pretending you are before I bend you over my knee and make you talk.”
Her eyes widen in pure shock.
“You did not just say that.”
“There it is,” I murmur.
“What?”
“The real reaction.”
Her mouth opens, then closes.
And suddenly the dam breaks.
“Oh my god, Rowan, this is insane!” she explodes, throwing her hands in the air. “All of it! Every single piece of this is insane!”
Her voice cracks with frustration as she starts pacing.
“The ring, the stupid fucking contract you want me to sign, the fact that some psychopath detective who assaulted me is still walking around somewhere, and now this—”
She gestures wildly back toward the kitchen.
“Now there’s political corruption and murder and my brother was apparently some undercover informant and—”
Her breathing starts to shake.
“And those pictures!” she blurts out. “Those stupid pictures of you and Avery floating around like blackmail ammunition!”
I stay where I am, letting her talk.
She runs both hands through her hair.
“I can’t do this,” she says, her voice rising again. “Do you understand that? I cannot handle all of this at once.”
Her eyes finally meet mine again.
“I hate losing control,” she admits, her voice breaking slightly. “Almost as much as you do.”
That sentence hits harder than everything else she’s said.
She exhales slowly.
“The only reason I’m still standing in that kitchen pretending to function is because I’m saving whatever strength I have left for work,” she says.
Her shoulders sag.
“I’m so close to just saying screw it,” she admits. “Quit my job. Move across the country. Disappear from all of this.”
My jaw tightens.
“I just want a normal life again,” she whispers. “I want to worry about bills. Rent. Whether I locked my front door. What I’m making for lunch tomorrow.”
Her eyes shine now.
“Not this,” she says hoarsely. “Not conspiracies and corrupt cops and blackmail and contracts and—”
I move before she can finish.
My hand closes around her wrist and pulls her toward me.
She barely has time to inhale before my mouth crashes against hers.
The kiss is rough.
Possessive.
All the anger and fear and frustration of the night pours into it as I hold her against me, my hand sliding into her hair to keep her there while my other arm locks around her waist.
For a second she stiffens.
Then her hands clutch the front of my shirt and she kisses me back just as fiercely.
When I finally pull away, both of us are breathing harder.
A tear slips down her cheek.
I wipe it away with my thumb.
“Listen to me,” I say quietly.
She looks up at me.
“This ends,” I tell her. “Every piece of it. Calder. Hargrove. Whoever else is hiding inside that police department.”
“How?” she asks weakly.
“By doing exactly what I told you earlier.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “The contract...”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head faintly.
“You think marrying you fixes this?”
“No.”
I tilt her chin upward so she has to look at me. “But it gives me the power to destroy it.”
She goes still.
“If you become my wife,” I continue, my voice colder now, steadier, “they can’t isolate you.”
Her brow furrows.
“They can’t freeze your accounts. They can’t drag you into interrogations without my attorneys. They can’t twist your testimony without fighting my legal team every step of the way.”
I brush my thumb along her cheek again. “And anyone who tries to come after you,” I say softly, “comes through me first.”
She stares at me. “You’re asking me to marry you because it’s strategically convenient.”
“I’m telling you it’s necessary.”
Silence hangs between us. Then I say the part I’ve been avoiding.
“I can’t do this without you.”
Her expression shifts.
“You think this entire operation runs without you?” I continue quietly. “You hold that office together. You hold me together.”
My hand tightens slightly at her waist.
“You’re the only person who can stand next to me and not be afraid of what I am.”
Her lips part.
“You challenge me,” I say. “You argue with me. You push back when everyone else just nods.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice.
“You’re the only one who can keep my world turning.”
Inside the company. Outside of it.
My forehead rests briefly against hers.
“When you become my wife,” I continue, “your life changes.”
Her breathing catches.
“No more worrying about money. No more wondering whether your accounts will disappear overnight. No more being alone when people like Calder decide you’re a problem.”
I brush another tear from her face.
“You’ll have my name,” I tell her. “My protection. My resources.”
She watches me carefully.
“You won’t even have to work if you don’t want to.”
That makes her blink.
“You could walk away from that office tomorrow,” I say. “I’d hire someone else.” I pause. “But no one would ever be as good as you.”
Silence settles between us again. Then I say the truth I’ve been holding back since this whole disaster started.
“I need you in my life.”
Not just in the office. Not just for strategy. For everything.
“And the only way I can protect you the way I need to,” I finish quietly, “is if you become my wife.”