Chapter Three

by Roxanne Rene

Damien picked up his phone, already dialing, determined and exuding confidence that sent shivers skittering down her spine. It was an instinctive signal that something was dreadfully amiss.

It was mainly the disconcerting smile on Damien’s face that sent alarm bells ringing in her mind.

Not a joyful smile, mind you. This kind of smile suggested he was gearing up to upheave her entire existence and would relish in her protests.

“I don’t like that look at all,” she said, her voice edged with caution.

Damien’s eyes sparkled with a devilish glint. “Gather your things. You’re moving in with me.”

Rowan blinked at him, grappling with disbelief. Then, a laugh burst forth—a genuine, hearty sound that echoed through the spacious office.

“Good one!” she exclaimed, still chuckling. “Wow, I nearly forgot how amusing you can be.”

“I’m not joking,” he replied, his tone unwavering.

Her laughter sputtered and finally faded. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” he affirmed, the gravity of his words sinking in like lead.

Oh, hell no.

Rowan crossed her arms defiantly, her brow furrowing. “Listen, billionaire or not, you can’t just summon me to relocate to your extravagant, high-tech villain lair as if I were some wayward kitten in need of a home.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Damien’s mouth, and his jaw twitched in amusement. “It’s not a lair.”

“It probably has secret elevators,” she countered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He didn’t bother to refute her claim.

Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Rowan shot back, “I have a home, Damien. A life that can’t just be tossed aside.”

His expression darkened, the air thickening with unspoken tension. “With who?” he said, the words slicing through the space between them.

The way he asked it made her heart skip a beat.

Wait. Was he… jealous?

Before she could wrap her head around that revelation, the office door swung open with a crash.

A towering figure burst in, fury radiating from him like heat from a wildfire, ready to incinerate everything in his path.

Ivan Carrington.

Rowan’s best friend, her former roommate, and the rock who had steadfastly supported her through every storm of her life—including the secret billionaire baby curled up like a content little angel on Damien’s couch.

Ivan’s piercing blue eyes locked onto Damien with an intensity that could rival a charging bull. “Oh, hell no,” he growled.

Rowan groaned, her head falling back in frustration. “Ivan, please—”

He cut her off, his arm extending like a barricade between her and the unfolding disaster. “I knew it. I knew this day would come.” He turned to face Damien, his glare as fierce as a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. “So, you finally decided to show your face.”

Damien raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I just found out today.”

Ivan scoffed, laughter laced with disbelief spilling from his lips. “Right. And now you think you can just come here and claim them?”

Damien’s expression hardened. “She’s my daughter.”

Ivan took a menacing step forward, closing the space between them, his presence commanding and fierce. “And where the hell were you for five years?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.

Rowan winced, her heart sinking. “Technically, I ran away…”

“Not the point, Ro!” Ivan snapped, his glare never wavering from Damien. “You don’t get to glide in here with your tailored suits and chiseled jawline, acting like you’re the master of her life.”

A flicker of amusement danced across Damien’s lips. “You think my jawline is perfect?”

Ivan threw his hands up in frustration and exasperation, threading through every word. “Not the takeaway here, Bond villain!”

Rowan buried her face in her hands, mortification washing over her. This was her personal hell—an inferno of chaos and confrontation.

Damien exhaled sharply, his demeanor shifting. “Listen, I understand. You’re protective,” he conceded, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension.

Ivan crossed his arms. “Protective? Damien, I helped deliver that baby in a bathtub because she was too stubborn to go to the hospital. I cut the damn umbilical cord. You don’t get to waltz in and act like I’m the outsider here.”

Damien blinked rapidly, his mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “You… what?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with disbelief. The weight of the words hung in the air, thickening the tension between them as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

Ivan smirked. “That’s right. I’ve seen parts of her you never have, Cross.”

Rowan’s throat tightened with disbelief, the name escaping her lips like a breathless gasp. “IVAN,” she croaked, the moment’s weight settling heavily in the air around her.

Damien’s eye twitched involuntarily, a telltale sign of his growing irritation. “You just made my “hate you” list that much longer. Congratulations,” he said, his voice low and edged with barely restrained frustration.

“Great. The feeling is mutual,” Ivan replied with a nonchalant smirk, spinning toward Rowan. “You are not moving in with him.”

Rowan let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I wasn’t planning to,” she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and reassurance.

Damien growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as he fixed his gaze on her. “Rowan.”

Raising a hand as if to deflect his intensity, she met his eyes firmly. “Look, I appreciate the whole alpha billionaire, protector-of-the-family vibe you’ve got going on, but I’m not some damsel you can shove into your penthouse like a trophy.”

Damien exhaled sharply through his nose, his mind racing as he reevaluated all of his life choices at that moment.

Ivan leaned back, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Welcome to my world, buddy,” he said, clearly relishing the tension in the air.

Damien ignored him, looking only at Rowan. “Then let me be involved.”

She hesitated.

“I missed five years,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to miss another second.”

Something inside her softened. She wanted him to know Nessa and to be there for her. But moving in? Absolutely not. Rowan squared her shoulders. “Fine. But on my terms.”

Damien’s gaze darkened, but he nodded. “Agreed.”

Ivan sighed. “Guess that’s the best I’m gonna get.” He pointed at Damien. “If you hurt them, the ditch I bury you in will make the Marianna Trench look like a kiddie pool.”

Damien smirked. “Good luck with that.”

Ivan grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Rowan groaned. “Fantastic. I feel like I’m living in a soap opera.”

Damien locked eyes with her, his expression heated and unreadable.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

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Now that Damien and Ivan have given Rowan a migraine, it’s time for Damien to make his next move—one that Rowan definitely isn’t ready for.

Return to Chapter 2 <— —> Continue to Chapter 4