Chapter 26
26
ADRIAN
I’m hiding in my room on the bed, throwing a stress ball and catching it, feeling equally wise and stupid for having rejected her. The instinct to walk down the hall and do exactly what she asked—rip that damn slip off her golden skin and go feral on her—is so strong, I might have to lock myself in here. She accuses me of being too much in control, if only she knew my control is hanging by a thread so thin it could snap at any second. It nearly already fucking did over breakfast.
But it can’t snap. And that’s why, in the following days, I go back to avoiding Rowena as much as possible. I succeed in not seeing her at all until Wednesday morning when a text message lands on my screen.
Rowena
Can you meet me for lunch near your office?
Say no. I should say no. I’m definitely saying no. Instead, I type back a short:
Adrian
Why? Something happened?
Rowena
No, I’m fine. I just need advice
Can’t she go to her friends for advice? As if reading my mind, her reply comes in pronto.
Rowena
Financial advice
I could tell her we can discuss it at home later, but we both know I won’t be there until she’s gone to sleep. And it might be better to talk while we’re in a public space and not alone. At least she’ll be dressed and hopefully not touching herself, so I should be fine. I pick the most unromantic place I can think of near the office and text her the address.
I glance at my watch for the fourth time in ten minutes as Dominic drones on about tightening our risk management parameters. The numbers and projections blur together in my mind, overshadowed by thoughts of Rowena waiting for me at the restaurant, and me being late, letting her down, which will happen soon if Dominic doesn’t wrap this up.
“Am I boring you, Adrian?” Dominic’s sharp voice cuts through my distraction. “Got somewhere else you’d rather be?”
I snap my attention back to my boss, an apologetic smile plastered on my face. “Sorry, Dominic. I’m supposed to meet Rowena for lunch in ten minutes, but if you need me to stay I can reschedule…”
A knowing grin spreads across the old man’s face, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Ah, yes, your beautiful fiancée. Far be it from me to keep you from her enchanting company. We can finish this later.”
Relief washes over me as I rise from my seat. “Thanks, Dominic. I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour.”
“Of course, of course. Enjoy your lunch, no hurry. And give my regards to the lovely Rowena.”
I nod gratefully and make a beeline for the door. A long ride down in the elevator, and the stuffy office air gives way to the bright July sunshine as I step outside, shrugging off my suit jacket. The heat is oppressive, but it does little to dampen my spirits. At the mere idea of seeing her, I feel instantly better than I’ve felt in the past three days avoiding her.
The restaurant I picked is one of those sterile, upscale places frequented by bankers and businessmen, all sleek lines and minimalist décor. Definitely nothing intimate about this place. But as the hostess leads me to the outdoor courtyard, a sharp, unexpected tension seizes my muscles. There, at a table bathed in sunlight, sits Rowena, a vision in a flowy lilac sundress. Her hair is half up, half down, the soft tendrils framing her face like a halo with the sun casting a golden glow on her skin.
My choice of a sterile place is already proving futile. She could be sitting in a pigsty, and she’d still transform it into a paradise.
“Hey,” I greet her with a tentative grin, drinking in the sight of her. “Thanks for waiting.”
Rowena looks up at me, her eyes drifting away almost immediately with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. “Of course. I’m glad you could make it. Thank you for coming.” She sounds more formal than I’m used to. Not the easy vibe we’d been having before Sunday’s we’re-not-having-sex gate .
I reach for the menu as Rowena fidgets with her napkin, but before I can even flip it open, she blurts out, “Adrian, I need to apologize for Sunday morning.”
Heat creeps down my spine, and I lower the menu, meeting her earnest gaze. “Oh?”
“I know that servicing me sexually isn’t part of our deal,” she continues, her cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink as she fumbles with her hands. “I shouldn’t have propositioned you like that.”
In my peripheral vision, I catch a server approaching our table, only to do a one-eighty upon hearing Rowena’s words. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, I chuckle. “Well, now you’ve traumatized that poor server.”
Rowena’s eyes widen, and she covers her mouth with her hand. When she lowers it, her smile is genuine, most of the strain gone, and I swear the summer sun pales compared to her beauty. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just said that out loud!”
“Hey, no worries,” I assure her. “It’s all good. I’m sorry I wasn’t?—”
She interrupts me with a raised hand. “Please, can we never speak of it, like, ever again?”
I nod, suppressing a smirk. “I’m just glad that we can move past it.”
She nods, visibly relieved. “Me too.”
As we place our orders with the slightly flustered server, I wonder what else Rowena has on her mind. She seems nervous, almost uncertain, and I wish to put her at ease.
Once our food arrives, Rowena picks up her fork, then sets it down and says, “So, the reason I asked you to meet me today is that I need your advice to plan for the future.”
I lean forward. “I’m all ears. What’s on your mind? ”
She takes a bite of her caprese salad, letting out a soft moan of delight that stirs something primal and deep-seated within me. I brush an invisible speck of dust off my sleeve, trying to focus on what she’s saying and not the enticing way her lips wrap around the silver fork.
“So after I finished everything on Sophie’s massive to-do list for the engagement party and wedding planning.” Rowena gestures animatedly with a cherry tomato speared on her fork. “I found myself just… sitting there in your house. Alone. With nothing to do.” She pops the tomato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “And now that the morning sickness has mostly passed, I’m feeling restless, you know?” She takes a sip of sparkling water, the bubbles fizzing. “I’ve already read all the guides on the first trimester—it feels like tempting fate to peek ahead. And it’s way too early to start on the nursery…”
Rowena trails off, sighing wistfully. She takes another big, appreciative bite of her mozzarella and lets out a little hum from the back of her throat. Jeez. How can eating a salad be so sexy? I mentally shake myself.
“So in short, I’m bored out of my skull and in desperate need of career advice from my brilliant fake fiancé.”
She grins at me, eyes sparkling with a hint of… flirtation? No, surely, I’m imagining that. We’ve just closed that door. I force myself to ignore the way my pulse picks up at her proximity. I’m supposed to be giving sage counsel, not ogling her like a barbarian. But damn if those little food-gasms aren’t killing me by degrees.
I drum my fingers on the table. “What exactly about your career?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life after we…” She hesitates. “You know, get divorced.”
Her casual mention of our divorce stings for no valid reason. Heck, I haven’t even married her yet. So why the fuck do I feel like this? “Of course,” I say as diplomatically as I can. “What are you thinking? Are you considering going back to software programming? Or something else?”
Rowena tilts her head, a strand of her silky hair falling across her face. “Yes and no. I mean, it’s the only valuable skill I have, but…” She trails off, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
I want to tell her she has an abundance of valuable skills, that she’s one of the most brilliant women I’ve met, but after the awkwardness of Sunday morning, I hold back. I don’t want to lead her on or create any more ground for misunderstandings. Instead, I nod, encouraging her to continue.
“The thing is, even if I got a job like my old one or got a promotion, the salary wouldn’t be enough to raise a child alone in New York City. I’ve run the numbers, and it’s just not feasible.” Rowena’s voice wavers, and my heart aches for her.
“Rowena, you’ll always have my support. The alimony?—”
She cuts me off delicately, her hand resting on mine. “I know, Adrian, and I’m so grateful for that. But at some point, I want to be independent again, to stand on my own two feet. And I just don’t see that happening with a job like my old one.”
Her touch sends electricity coursing through my veins. I remain still, paralyzed by a prehistoric freeze response. I barely have enough motility to move my mouth and respond. “I understand completely. So, what other options are you considering?”
Rowena leans back in her chair, her brow furrowed in contemplation. “That’s just it. I don’t know. I’m at a crossroads, and I have no idea which path to take. I was hoping you might have some insights or advice. Is my only option to move somewhere cheaper? How do I make more money to stay in New York? ”
If there’s one thing I’m good at discussing, it’s money and how to make more of it. I wipe my mouth with the napkin, giving myself a moment to think. I want to help her pursue her dreams without sacrificing her financial stability.
“Well, if a higher salary is the main concern, you could always apply to more established companies, banks or larger corporations with software development departments. They pay better than fintech start-ups like the one you were working at.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I notice a flicker of disappointment in Rowena’s eyes, a bit of her light dimming. I study her closely. “But something tells me that’s not a path you’d enjoy.”
She shakes her head, a wistful smile on her lips. “No, you’re right. In my old job, I felt like it was sucking my soul away, bit by bit, every single day. I can’t imagine going back to that, especially not in a more rigid corporate environment. I’ll be alone raising a kid; I’m going to need flexible hours on top of a higher pay.” She grimaces. “Easy, right?”
I lean forward, my eyes locked on hers. “Then don’t go back to a job you hated.”
Her eyebrows raise. “But how?”
I let air fill my lungs, knowing that what I’m about to suggest might sound unconventional. “I want you to forget about money for a moment. If salary wasn’t a factor, what would you do? What’s your dream job?”
Rowena bites her lip, hesitating. “I… I don’t know.”
“Close your eyes,” I instruct her, my voice gentle. “Try to picture it.”
As she lets her eyelids flutter shut, a dreamy expression settles on her face, and I’m struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to lean across the table and kiss her. The desire is so strong that I have to grip the edge of the table and snap my thoughts back to her conundrum. I’m here to help not ogle.
“Imagine your ideal career, Rowena. What does it look like?”
A smile plays at the corners of her mouth as she speaks, her voice soft and wistful. “For starters, I’m my own boss.”
“That’s great. So you want to be an entrepreneur.” I smile back like a fool. “Any field or products in your dream pipeline?”
She scrunches her face even more adorably. “I’ve always dreamed of helping young girls get into coding.”
“What about boys? Don’t they deserve that too?”
She squints one eye open, fixing me with a playful glare. “Yes, of course they do. But in my dream, I’m building this pink, girly console designed to appeal to young girls. It’s my vision, and if a camouflage console for early boy coders isn’t included, you’ll just have to deal with it. Plus, boys need little encouragement to pursue careers in tech.”
Her sassiness makes me chuckle, and I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Your dream, your rules.”
As Rowena opens both eyes, excitement is dancing in their depths, gears turning in her brilliant brain.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “If you’re serious about making coding toys for kids, there’s one crucial thing to keep in mind from a business perspective.”
She tilts her head, curiosity etched on her face. “What’s that?”
“To succeed in a niche market, you need to either be first, which might be already too late, or you need to be better than the competition.”
Rowena’s smile is a burst of sunshine, warm and radiant. “ Be better,” she repeats, her eyes set with determination. “I like the sound of that. How do I get to be better?”
“Can’t tell you that. It’s where your technical expertise comes in,” I continue. “But the usual strategy is to look at the coding products currently on the market. Read the reviews, see what people are complaining about. Heck, go out and buy all the top competitor toys, play with them yourself, and figure out what you’d change, what you could improve.”
She nods, absorbing my words like a sponge. Then, a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “You know, usually when a guy tells his fiancée to go shopping for toys, he means?—”
I hold up my hands as a shield, cutting her off before she can finish that thought. “Please, don’t even go there.”
“Too soon?” Rowena mimes zipping her lips, her eyes twinkling. “Fine, fine. I promise you’ll never hear the word ‘sex’ from me ever again.”
I groan inwardly, because damn it, sex with her is still all I can think about after Sunday. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s been on my mind even before that.
The server providentially appears with our check, and I automatically reach for my wallet, only to realize that I don’t have it. I pat my pockets, confusion turning into understanding. “I don’t have my wallet.” I must have left it in my office as I came straight from Dominic’s. “Do you have the credit card I gave you for expenses?”
“Sure, I’ve been meaning to inaugurate it eventually anyway,” Rowena chirps as she pulls out the sleek black card from her wallet.
My eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, you haven’t used it yet?”
She shakes her head. “No, Rosa handles all the grocery shopping, and you gave Sophie your details for the party expenses. My clothes still fit. I just haven’t needed to use it yet.”
I lean back in my chair, stunned. That Rowena hasn’t touched the credit card at all in the nearly three weeks we’ve been living together, hasn’t spent a single penny despite having free rein, throws me for a loop. It destabilizes my resolve to keep my distance, to remember that this is just a quid pro quo.
Rationally, I know she agreed to this deal for the money—but it’s clearly not about that for her. She’s not some gold-digger out to bleed me dry—or even take a little advantage. No, Rowena is an incredible woman who found herself backed into a corner, devoid of other options. And I’ve always known that, deep down.
But with each passing day, I discover new facets of her that make me like her a little more. And if I’m brutally honest with myself, it’s not even just a purely sexual attraction at this point, though hell knows I’m so hung-up on her it physically hurts.
No, what I feel for Rowena runs under the skin and terrifies me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and a part of me fears that exploring it could lead to my undoing.
The real kicker? I have no clue what she feels for me in return. Is it simply physical attraction on her end? Could there be something more between us?
I desperately want to ask, but I stop myself from broaching the subject. I can’t go hot and cold on her like this. I said no to exploring anything different from a business arrangement only three days ago, and I must stick to it. Because either way, pursuing something real with Rowena is strictly off-limits. We can’t go down that road, no matter how badly I may want to. I know what’s at the end: disappointed expectations, resentment, bitterness…
But damn, what I wouldn’t give to discover what’s in her heart…