24. Erik
ERIK
Makari confirms the university vehicles are being tracked at four-thirty, and Rowan is in my car by five. She doesn't object to leaving the penthouse, which concerns me more than an argument would.
"The sedan outside Fenwick was there again?" Rowan turns away from the side window after we reach the highway. Her bag sits between her feet with enough case files inside to keep her occupied for a week, although she hasn't opened one since we left Ashford.
"Two different vehicles followed university cars today. One belonged to a contractor. The other changed plates twice." I check the traffic behind us before taking the next exit. "Makari's team lost the second vehicle near campus."
"Rahil." She says his name without asking whether I agree.
"Probably." I take the coastal road while Rowan watches the passing trees for another minute.
She finally looks away from the window. "Where are we going?"
"A property my family owns."
"That description has covered an alarming range of places." Rowan settles deeper into the seat and braces one boot against her bag. "Should I expect windows?"
"I'm reconsidering those."
Rowan smiles despite herself and returns to the view.
The house sits on a rocky stretch of shoreline behind a private access road and two security gates.
We bought the property four years ago from a developer who ran out of money halfway through the renovation.
The exterior is finished, along with enough of the interior to make the building habitable, but nobody ever decided what to do with the rest.
Makari's team arrives ahead of us and clears the building before Rowan gets out of the car.
Wind pushes her coat against her legs while she crosses the drive and stops inside the entry hall to take in exposed plaster, stacked flooring, covered furniture, and a chandelier still wrapped in protective plastic.
"You own this." Rowan steps around a stack of unopened tile and looks toward the unfinished staircase wall.
"Yes." I set my overnight case near the stairs.
"You left it like this for four years." She turns slowly until she's facing me again.
"I had other houses."
Rowan points toward a rolled rug nearly as tall as she is. "This is a ridiculous house to own and forget about."
Makari comes out of the hallway carrying two radios. "The property is clear. Exterior coverage is active, and nobody has been inside since the maintenance inspection last month."
Rowan accepts one radio but keeps looking past him toward the staircase. "How many bedrooms are usable?"
"One." Makari points upstairs. "The others have no furniture, and two don't have finished electrical service."
She clips the radio to her bag, then turns the accusation on me with amusement brightening her expression. "You planned that very conveniently."
"I didn't arrange the construction schedule for tonight."
"I'm keeping the possibility open." Rowan adjusts the strap on her bag while Makari gives me the second radio and checks the front windows one last time.
"I'll be about twenty minutes away."
"That's farther than usual."
"The road has one approach. Six armed men outside the windows would announce which room you're using." Makari opens the door, and I consider the layout before nodding.
Rowan waits until the door closes before turning toward me. "You agreed with him without arguing."
"He was correct." I pick up the document case, and she follows me toward the stairs with something muttered behind me that I probably don't want to hear.
The furnished bedroom has a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a chair near windows overlooking the water.
The rest of the second floor looks like a construction site.
Rowan leaves her bag in the bedroom, checks the radio once, then follows me downstairs. "Do we have food? Actual food?"
"I'm aware of what food is." She catches the newel post on her way around the unfinished section of railing and gives me a look that suggests otherwise.
The kitchen is finished except for cabinet hardware and one section of backsplash.
Makari had groceries delivered before we arrived, which leaves Rowan inspecting the refrigerator while I spread the shipping documents across the island.
She takes out a container of soup and reads the label. "This is suspiciously normal."
"Security crises don't require poor nutrition." I open the first agreement.
"You've clearly never been a college student." Rowan puts the soup back, then closes the refrigerator when I turn the contract toward her.
"I want you to see this."
She comes around the island, and her humor disappears when she recognizes the documents. "These are the routes?"
"Two of them." I slide the first agreement closer. "Sold outright. No retained interest, no silent ownership, and no Danilov-controlled entity on the buyer side."
Rowan reads the first page before moving to the second agreement. She checks the ownership section herself. "The buyers passed Liya's review?"
"Both did. Outside counsel ran separate ownership checks.
" I open the transfer schedule behind them.
Four crews move to Makari's licensed companies with their existing legitimate contracts intact.
The remaining operations are divided between sale, closure, and conversion over the next several months.
Rowan takes her time with the pages. She checks signatures, dates, and ownership provisions instead of accepting my summary, which is one of the things I love about her.
I haven't told her that yet. I've had opportunities, including several tonight, but knowing the answer when I say it doesn't guarantee knowing hers.
Rowan runs one finger down the transfer schedule and interrupts the thought. "This is almost everything."
I nod once to confirm. "Everything that can be moved without abandoning legitimate employees or creating a vacuum Orell can fill."
Rowan turns another page before looking up. "And the rest?"
"I close what can't be made legitimate."
The wind has strengthened enough to make the windows complain in their frames. Rowan looks at me across the island, then back at the signed agreements. "You're really doing it."
I stay where I am because I need her to believe the answer. "I told you I was."
"You tell people a lot of things." She aligns the first contract with the second.
"That's insulting."
She sniffs. "It's accurate."
I close the document case and leave the papers between us. "I'm building something that doesn't require you to live behind a coded door."
Rowan stops arranging the papers. The kitchen is quiet except for the refrigerator and the wind outside. She pulls out one of the stools but doesn't sit, resting one hip against it instead. "Can you ever fully leave?"
I expected this question during an argument, not while soup waits in the refrigerator and half a house remains unfinished around us. "No."
Her attention drops to the transfer schedule.
I walk around the island but stop before I reach her.
"I can sell every illegal route I own. I can close accounts, transfer companies, and stop taking meetings.
I can't erase my name. There will always be people who remember what my father built, what I controlled, or what they think a Danilov can do for them. "
Rowan folds her arms across her body. "Then what changes?"
"I decide what I answer." I gesture toward the documents between us. "I decide what the money funds and what the people working for me are asked to do. I can't make the history disappear, but I can stop adding to it."
She stays beside the stool, watching me now instead of the papers.
"I won't promise you nobody will ever come to the door, but I won't build a life that requires them to."
Some of the strain leaves her posture. Rowan returns to the island and closes the first agreement carefully. "That's what I needed to know."
The answer is too important for the question to have been casual. I remain where I am. "Why?"
She takes a second longer than necessary to line up the corners of the contracts. "I've been thinking about the future."
"So have I."
Rowan looks toward me, and I nearly tell her about the ring I bought yesterday. Thunder cuts across the water before either of us speaks, followed by darkness when the lights go out.
She looks toward the ceiling. "That was dramatic."
Emergency lighting comes on in the hallway, but the kitchen stays dark. I reach for the radio, and Rowan turns on her phone flashlight while we wait through several seconds of nothing from the generator.
The exterior team confirms the storm took down the local line and the generator has a fuel-feed fault. Security systems remain on battery backup.
"Do we evacuate?"
"No." I check the exterior cameras on the secured tablet. "The road is worse than staying here, and the perimeter remains covered."
She looks toward the refrigerator, then checks the stove. "Then I'm eating the soup before something happens to that too."
The stove is gas. She finds a lighter in the utility drawer while I locate candles, and ten minutes later soup heats on the burner while four candles turn the unfinished kitchen into something almost intentional.
Rowan carries two bowls to the island and sits across from me.
"You know this house would be beautiful finished. "
"You can have it."
Her spoon stops halfway to the bowl. "That wasn't a request."
"I know, but I own other houses."
"The billionaire thing again." Rowan resumes eating while I decide defending my net worth will only make her teasing worse.
Rain strikes the windows while we finish dinner. Without the overhead lights, the unfinished sections disappear beyond the candle glow, and the kitchen becomes the only room that matters.
She pushes aside her empty bowl and looks toward the dark hall. "Where would you live if you weren't choosing based on security?"
"Here would work."
She turns back toward me. "You ignored it for four years."
"I didn't have a reason to finish it."
Rowan clacks her spoon against the bowl. "You do now?"
"Yes."