Violet thought Rowan Ashcroft was just her ruthless billionaire boss—the kind of man who notices results, not people. Then his attention shifts, and suddenly she’s at the center of an obsession she never saw coming. As her life falls apart, Rowan offers protection no one else can. The problem? Men like Rowan don’t protect what they love. They possess it.
Something cold and sharp slides into place inside me. “She’s crying,” Devin adds, quieter. “Barely holding it together. They tried to intimidate her before I stepped in.” My grip tightens on the phone. “Who’s leading the interrogation?” “Detective Calder.” I remember the name immediately. The tone. The pressure. “Are you handling it?” I ask. “I…
Her brow furrows. “But he said- “He goes through Devin,” I continue. “Or he goes through me.” Her confusion deepens. “Why?” I hold her gaze, unwavering. “Because you don’t answer to him,” I say. “And because he doesn’t get access to you without oversight.” The room is quiet. Violet nods slowly, like she’s still processing…
He blinks. “What?” “You honestly think Rowan Ashcroft would accept that?” I ask flatly. “A day off?” Theo winces. “Right. Yeah. That was-” He shakes his head once. “That was stupid.” He nods, conceding immediately. “Okay. Forget I said that.” Camille folds her arms. “I’ll make sure she eats. And sleeps. Or at least pretends…
I reach the desk and set my bag down, pulling up Rowan’s schedule automatically. Muscle memory. Survival instinct. Everything familiar I can cling to. He arrives three minutes later. As always. Rowan stops at the desk without looking at me. I slide his schedule forward. Perfectly aligned. His coffee follows-black, no sugar, no foam, no…
“You asked to see me,” she says. “Yes.” She stops a few feet from my desk. Doesn’t sit. “Waiting for permission?” I ask. “I don’t assume.” “Sit.” She does, controlled, hands folded in her lap like she’s trying to make herself smaller. The dress doesn’t allow it. Dark circles shadow her eyes. She’s running on…
I feel Rowan’s presence behind the glass, even without looking. I know he’s watching. Measuring how I move after the detonation. Camille hesitates, jaw tightening, then slowly sits back down. Good. I draw in a breath that feels like it scrapes on the way down and take my seat. Back to work. Because whatever just…
“Councilwoman,” he says quietly, strained. “We should probably-“ “Shut up,” she snaps without even turning around. He winces. “Ma’am, please. Mr. Ashcroft isn’t available and-“ “I did not ask for your opinion,” she cuts in. “Stand there and look useful.” The man flushes, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” to no one in particular, before stepping back like…
The woman mutters something under her breath and walks away. I exhale slowly through my nose. Does no one do their jobs anymore? It’s like the moment Avery left, everyone decided the desk was up for grabs. Like they could poke it. Push it. See if it still held. See if I did. Phones ring…
“No.” His eyes narrow. “That wasn’t a question meant to be answered quickly.” “I know.” Another beat. “Fine,” he says finally. “You’re cleared to leave.” I nod once. “Camille’s taking me.” “Good.” I turn to go, hand on the door- “Pierce.” I stop. “Yes?” “If they call again,” he says, voice low, “you tell me.”…
It rings twice. “Evergreen Rehabilitation, this is Karen,” a woman answers. Tired voice. Professional. Guarded. “This is Rowan Ashcroft,” I say calmly. “I’m calling regarding a patient under your care. Margaret Pierce.” Silence, brief but deliberate. “I’m sorry, sir,” Karen says carefully. “I can’t disclose patient information.” “I’m not asking for medical records,” I reply.…