Chapter 73 Warning
Violet
I wake up slowly.
Not the jolt-awake, heart-pounding kind. Not the panicked check-the-room kind either.
This is… different.
The sheets are soft. Cool against my skin. The mattress doesn’t dip or creak like the one I’ve slept on for years. The room smells faintly like cedar and something darker underneath it, something clean and expensive and unmistakably Rowan.
Right.
Rowan’s bed.
I freeze.
Then I remember everything at once and almost laugh into the pillow.
I turn my head carefully and spot him immediately.
He’s still in the chair by the window, slumped at an angle that cannot possibly be comfortable. One arm hangs over the armrest, fingers loose, his head tipped back slightly, mouth parted just enough to tell me he’s really asleep. Not pretending. Not resting. Out.
For a man built entirely out of control, he looks… human like this.
Unprotected.
I prop myself up on an elbow and just look at him.
Like, really look.
Dark lashes against his cheeks. A faint crease between his brows that never seems to leave him, even when he’s unconscious. His shirt is rumpled, collar loosened, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Strong hands. Veins. Calluses I never noticed before because I never let myself look long enough.
Camille’s voice floats into my head uninvited.
You know he’s hot, right?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second.
Okay. Fine.
Yes.
He’s hot.
Infuriatingly, unfairly hot.
And the dominance last night, the way he said no and meant it, the way he took the choice out of my hands because he knew I’d destroy myself trying to hold everything together…
I hate being told what to do.
I always have.
But from him?
My stomach flips.
I could live with it.
The realization hits me so hard I almost choke.
Oh my god.
I stare at the ceiling like it might scold me.
Could I think of him as more than my boss?
The question alone feels illegal.
He’s Rowan Ashcroft. CEO. Control freak. Walking red flag wrapped in money and power and paranoia.
I’m his assistant. His employee. The woman he tells where to stand and what to schedule and who to talk to.
But then my brain, traitorous thing that it is, keeps going.
Could I be his… partner?
My chest tightens.
His wife?
I actually sit up straighter, horrified.
Wife?
WIFE?
Did I just think that?
What is wrong with me?
I clamp a hand over my mouth, eyes wide, heart pounding.
I am officially unhinged.
Marriage? With him? A man who owns more security systems than throw pillows? Who sleeps in a chair to keep watch? Who doesn’t even cook his own food?
Personal assistant by day, wife by night?
That’s not a romance novel. That’s a lawsuit.
I glance back at him again, against my will.
He shifts slightly, muttering something unintelligible, but doesn’t wake.
And my chest does something stupid and warm and dangerous.
I don’t know when it happened.
Somewhere between grief and fear and him refusing to let me break, something changed.
I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know what I want.
But I do know one thing, staring at him slumped in that chair like he guarded my sleep all night long.
If I keep letting myself think like this…
Nothing in my life is ever going to be simple again.
The thought settles in quietly.
Not like a warning. Not like panic.
More like acceptance.
My life might never be simple again.
And I might be fine with that.
As long as he’s in it.
That realization scares me more than anything Calder ever said.
I slip out of bed carefully, moving slow so I don’t wake Rowan. He’s still out cold in the chair, limbs at odd angles, jaw slack in a way I’ve never seen before. He looks… spent. Like he ran on pure will until his body finally gave out.
I hesitate, then reach for the blanket folded at the end of the bed.
He doesn’t look cold. This house probably never is.
Still.
I drape it over his shoulders gently, tucking it around him without thinking too hard about the intimacy of the gesture. My fingers brush his arm and my stomach flips, but he doesn’t stir.
“Just in case,” I whisper, ridiculous.
Then I leave him there.
Downstairs, the house feels different in the morning. Less ominous. Sunlight filters in through the tall windows, bouncing off stone and glass. The security hum is still there, but softer somehow. Like it’s just part of the background now.
I check the time.
7:15.
Of course.
My body doesn’t know how to sleep in anymore. Even here. Even now.
I wander into the kitchen and open the fridge.
Empty.
Not literally, but close. Water. Protein drinks. Some fruit that looks like it’s more decorative than edible. Condiments lined up like soldiers. No real food. Nothing comforting.
Of course Rowan doesn’t grocery shop.
I close the fridge and make my way back toward the entryway, where one of the guards is stationed near the door. He straightens immediately when he sees me.
“Morning,” he says, polite but easy.
“Morning,” I reply. “Can I ask you a favor?”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Depends. Are you asking or ordering?”
I smile despite myself. “Asking.”
He grins. “Then yeah. What do you need?”
“A grocery run,” I say. “I’ll make a list. I’ll pay.”
He waves that off immediately. “Not necessary.”
“It is,” I say firmly, already grabbing a notepad from the side table. “I’m not billing groceries to a security budget.”
He watches me write, leaning casually against the wall. “You always this organized?”
“Only when I’m stressed,” I reply.
“So always,” he says, amused.
I glance up at him. “You’re not wrong.”
He chuckles. “What’s your damage? Allergies? Preferences?”
“Coffee. Real coffee,” I say. “Eggs. Bread. Milk. Something green so I feel like I tried.”
He nods. “Got it.”
“And,” I add, hesitating just a second, “pancake mix. Just in case.”
His grin widens. “Just in case.”
I hand him the list. “Thank you. Really.”
“No problem,” he says. “Give me forty five minutes.”
By eight o’clock, he’s back.
Right on time.
I’m in the kitchen unpacking bags when I hear voices from the entryway.
Theo’s laugh. Devin’s calm baritone.
They step inside together and freeze.
Because the guard is leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, unpacking groceries with me like he belongs there.
“Did I miss something?” Theo asks slowly.
The guard looks up, unbothered. “Morning.”
Theo’s eyes flick to me. Then back to the guard. Then to the bags. “Why is security doing domestic duties?”
“I asked,” I say simply.
Devin’s gaze sharpens just a fraction. “You asked him to leave the premises.”
“I asked him to go to the store,” I correct. “He came back. Successfully.”
The guard grins. “Got everything on the list. Even the fancy creamer.”
Theo squints. “She has a list?”
“Color coded,” the guard says proudly. “Impressive handwriting.”
Theo exhales. “I hate this already.”
Devin crosses his arms, studying the guard like a chess piece that just moved where it shouldn’t have. “You’re getting comfortable.”
The guard shrugs. “She’s easy to talk to.”
Theo snorts. “Oh, you have no idea.”
I feel heat creep up my neck. “I can hear you.”
The guard glances at me, smiling. “You want help putting this away?”
“I’ve got it,” I say, though I don’t move.
He doesn’t either.
There’s a beat.
Then Devin clears his throat. “You can go.”
The guard looks at me instead of Devin. “Anything else you need before I head out?”
Theo makes a strangled sound.
“I’m good,” I say, trying not to laugh. “Thank you.”
He nods, backing away slowly. “Anytime.”
He leaves.
The door closes.
Theo turns to me. “Do you flirt with everyone, or are we special?”
“I didn’t flirt,” I protest.
“You absolutely did,” Theo says. “It was subtle. But it was there.”
Devin’s mouth twitches. “Rowan is going to lose his mind.”
I blink. “Rowan?”
Theo grins. “Oh yeah. You haven’t seen that yet.”
My stomach flips again.
And this time, I don’t tell it to stop.