Chapter 21
A MASTER OF WORDS FOR HIS GIRL
ROWAN
What color feels like longing?
ChaosInPurple: It’s the color the sky turns just after the sun disappears but before night fully settles in. That quiet stretch of evening when the world grows softer and everything feels suspended between what was and what might be.
It reminds me of standing somewhere still and looking far out toward the horizon, knowing there’s something beautiful out there even if I can’t quite reach it yet. It’s calm but a little melancholy.
It’s the kind of color that feels like waiting without really knowing why.
The tension doesn’t leave my body until Raymond’s car disappears down the drive. The second I saw them on the porch, I knew the term surprise visit was bullshit.
They were here for Violet, to remind her she has options and to make sure she knows she isn’t necessarily trapped here with me if she doesn’t want to be.
The entire time I read to Quill, I could feel Violet watching me. My body stays pulled tight, coiled like a string. Even Quill had noticed and she kept pausing, her small hands stilling mid-sign, asking if I was okay.
But how could I have been okay?
What if she only likes my place because she’s polite? What if comfort is just courtesy, and all this time she’d been quietly considering Willow’s offer instead?
The thought pressed down on my chest until breathing felt like effort.
My mind spiraled easily, imagining her thanking me for letting her stay the night, then gently explaining that being around familiar faces would be better and safer for her.
Fuck, I’m still struggling to believe she’s here at all.
That she chose me. Again.
“I really need to get some clothes of my own.” Violet’s voice pulls me out of my head and my fears. “If we keep having unannounced guests, I should probably stop borrowing yours before people start assuming things.”
Her voice is light again and there’s a spark in her eyes, the same one from this morning when it was just the two of us.
But the moment we had guests, that guarded layer returned. I saw it instantly. The way her shoulders squared and her eyes began scanning the room.
I hate that she feels the need to stay on alert like that. Yet I love that she doesn’t wear that armor around me.
My fingers itch for my phone before I even consciously decide to reach for it, and I open our FYS chat. There are some things I still don’t trust myself to say any other way.
SilenceInMidnight: I like you in my clothes, and I don’t give a fucking damn what anyone thinks. They can assume whatever the hell they want.
ChaosInPurple: Spoken like a true gentleman, Night.
I chuckle. The sound slips out before I can catch it. Not air or a silent exhale, but a real sound, low, rough, and uncontrolled.
Violet gasps while I freeze.
That sound didn’t come from my phone. It fucking came from me. And that has never happened in all these years. Never have I managed to utter a single syllable without preparation, not even around Archer.
What the hell does this mean?
Is this progress or a temporary glitch, and how do we move past it without making it bigger than it is?
As if she senses the tremor running through me, Violet steps closer and rests her hand lightly over my forearm, smiling like nothing vulnerable just happened.
“You promised me online shopping. Aren’t you going to keep your word?”
Relief hits me so hard it almost makes me dizzy. I would buy her the whole damn town.
Rowan: Let’s go back to the solarium. You can use my laptop.
Willow promised before leaving that she’d pack up Violet’s things, including her laptop, and have Raymond’s driver drop them off later. But for now, mine will do.
When we settle back onto the couch, Violet lets out a slow sigh, her eyes drifting toward the fireplace. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how calm and peaceful this place feels.”
My heart expands knowing she finds comfort in my home.
I slide the laptop toward her.
Rowan: I opened a few sites my mom shops from.
She raises a brow. “You know where your mom shops?”
Rowan: Every year for her birthday, Archer and I get a list of five things to choose from. She usually ends up with all of them anyway. So yes, I know exactly where she shops.
Rowan: They also carry skincare and makeup. So feel free.
If Violet wants to stay, I want her to have everything she needs to feel like this place isn’t just mine anymore but ours.
It’s been forty minutes since Violet claimed my laptop, her brows furrowed in concentration while I pretend to focus on the numbers from the Cherrywood Gazette on my iPad. In truth, I haven’t absorbed a single figure.
Every now and then she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Every now and then her tongue peeks out slightly when she’s thinking. Every single time, I lose track of whatever I was pretending to calculate.
“All done,” she says finally, satisfaction softening her voice. “Let me grab my credit card.”
She starts to rise and I grab her hand before I can stop myself. She turns and I release her reluctantly and type quickly.
Rowan: You’re not using your card.
I place my black credit card on the table between us.
“Rowan, no.” She shakes her head. “I’m already taking too much from you.” Her eyes flick around the solarium, then back at me. “Plus, from what I’ve been told, I make a decent salary for myself.”
Not happening.
Rowan: I don’t care. I’m not letting you pay.
“Rowan—” she starts, but she’s interrupted as her phone vibrates.
Rowan: Violet, I’ve waited a long time to shop for my girl.
The words feel reckless and right all at once.
Rowan: I want to buy you things. I want to buy you all the damn things that will make you happy. So forget about paying. I’m not letting that happen.
My pulse pounds as she reads my texts but doesn’t say anything.
And then, thank God, a faint flush blooms across her cheeks. Her throat moves when she swallows. We stare at each other, and I am fully prepared to beg if she pushes back, but then her shoulders soften and she smiles.
“Now I understand why everyone calls you the master of words. Without acting like some dominant jerk, you still manage to make people agree with you.”
Relief rushes through me.
Rowan: I’ll take that as a compliment. Now go on and finalize the payment.
“Do you want to see what I bought, since you’re paying and all?” She quirks an eyebrow.
Do I want to see what my girl is buying on my card?
Hell yeah.
I nod, forcing my face into something neutral, even though excitement is threatening to spill out of me in the most undignified way.
This time she sits closer. Close enough that the couch dips beside me.
Close enough that I can feel her warmth without even touching her.
She angles the laptop screen toward me and our knees brush.
It’s subtle, barely there. Her fingers pause above the keyboard for a heartbeat, followed by a tiny tremor in her hand.
She noticed, but neither of us pulls away.
I let myself believe that she wants this closeness as much as I do. I finally look at the screen, and there are only four items in the cart.
Rowan: Why is your cart almost empty?
“What?” She immediately grabs the laptop and turns it back toward herself, panic flashing across her face. “Don’t tell me everything disappeared. It took me forever to decide.”
She scans the screen quickly, then exhales in relief.
“Oh, thank God. I thought I lost everything.” She looks at me again, confused. “What do you mean empty?”
Rowan: There are only four things.
She frowns at me like I’ve miscounted. “This is everything I need here.”
Here.
Everything she needs here with me.
Rowan: What about when you go out?
Her eyes drift downward, lashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks. “I… I don’t know. Right now, I don’t want to leave this place.”
My heart should soar. Instead, it stumbles. That quiet confession is one of my greatest fears—that in my selfish need to keep her close, I might slowly shrink her world to the size of mine. I have built my life within these walls; it works for me. But I don’t want it to become a cage for her.
I type carefully.
Rowan: I know you don’t feel like it right now. But maybe one day, you’ll want to visit your friends. I heard you all like trying new coffee shops around town.
I let the message sit between us.
Rowan: Maybe someday you’ll want to meet your colleagues too.
She shakes her head faintly, like the outside world is too loud even in her thoughts. Before she can retreat further into that feeling, I rest my hand gently on her thigh. The contact is soft, but her body reacts instantly as I register a subtle shiver beneath my palm.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that she’s affected by me.
It’s a humbling feeling. She devastates me with words alone, with the simplest look, and I’ve managed to do the same to her. Left her trembling with just my touch.
Rowan: There’s no pressure, Violet. I just want you to have everything you might need, even if you don’t want them now.
She exhales, leaning back into the couch.
“Okay. I’ll add a few dresses.” She scrolls through the page. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t order any lingerie. I don’t even know what I have at home, but I definitely need things that are easy to take off.”
My brain stops functioning.
She’s buying something that’s easy to take off.
Images flicker uninvited—lace against her skin, silk sliding over her shoulders, an elastic waistband holding soft fabric, colors I haven’t seen but already want to.
Heat surges low and fast, and my cock stirs to life, like it was waiting for this moment all along. I look away from the screen, jaw tightening as I try to anchor myself.
She’s talking practically, while I’m wanting her sexually. I’m dangerously close to crossing the line between protective and possessive, between grateful and greedy.
Yet, she’s sitting inches from me, buying lingerie on my laptop with my card. If that makes me the luckiest man alive, I’m not arguing with it.