Chapter Five

by Roxanne Rene

Rowan had found herself maneuvering through a labyrinth of challenging experiences over the years, each twist and turn shaping her into the person she was today.

Getting dumped via a stark text message? A heart-wrenching blow that felt as if it sliced through her very core.

Bringing a baby into the world in the middle of a bathtub? An unexpected moment that would forever be etched in her mind.

Coexisting with Ivan and his obsessive, three meticulously color-coded planners that charted every moment of their lives? A daily challenge that often left her feeling more like a reluctant housemate in a sitcom than a partner in life.

But this?

This situation was an entirely new level of bewildering. What in the world was happening?

At this very moment, she stood in the sunlit, marble-floored penthouse of Damien Cross—the enigmatic billionaire who had once held her heart, was now her boss, and, inexplicably, her temporary roommate.

Beside her, her daughter Nessa twirled with infectious joy, her laughter echoing against the high ceilings. “This is the best hotel ever!” she declared, her eyes sparkling excitedly.

Rowan let out a frustrated groan, shaking her head as she attempted to ground her daughter in reality. “It’s not a hotel, honey. It’s our temporary living space.”

Nessa’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. “We live here?!”

Rowan glared at Damien, leaning casually against the sleek marble counter, his demeanor infuriatingly composed. “No. We do not,” she bit out, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

Damien loosened his tie with an air of nonchalance, a faint smirk dancing on his lips as he met her gaze. “For now, you do,” he stated coolly as if his words were an unwavering decree.

Oh, she was going to kill him.

The front door burst open with a dramatic crash, interrupting the storm of emotions brewing within her.

Ivan stormed in like a tornado, clutching a go-bag as if he were rescuing a princess from a castle tower. His face was fierce, his determination palpable. “Absolutely not!”

Rowan let out a weary sigh, a mix of frustration and exasperation. “Ivan—”

“No.” He jabbed a finger toward Damien, his voice ascending into a passionate crescendo. “I refuse.”

Damien’s smirk was infuriatingly charming, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I don’t recall asking your permission.”

Ivan let out a sharp, incredulous Ha! “Oh, you think this is some power struggle? Honey, I’ve been in the trenches. After her regrettable takeout choices, I’ve held this woman’s hair back at three a.m. I’ve worked double shifts so that she could take Nessa to the doctor. I’ve thrown hands with an irate PTA mom on her behalf. And you think you can just waltz in here with your ridiculously sexy suits and your rich-boy charm and—”

Rowan blinked, caught off guard. “Did you just call him sexy?”

Ivan made a strangled noise, his face a vivid shade of red. “Not the point!”

Damien’s smirk widened, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “So you do find me attractive.”

In a fit of frustration, Ivan hurled a couch pillow at him, barely missing the mark.

Rowan pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a simmering headache. “Can we please focus? This is serious.” She turned her gaze sharply to Damien. “Explain. Now.”

Damien took a deep breath, his demeanor shifting to that of a composed CEO. “You need support. I can provide it. Nessa deserves both parents actively involved in her life. This is the most logical solution.”

Ivan made a disgusted noise, his disdain evident. “Oh my god, he genuinely thinks this is just a business deal.”

Rowan huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Damien, moving in with you doesn’t magically fix everything.”

Damien’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “I know that.”

There was something raw simmering underneath his frustration—something vulnerable that Rowan wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. A trial run. Two weeks.”

Damien’s expression shifted, a glimmer of victory lighting up his features. “I’ll take it.”

Ivan groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “I hate everything about this.”

Damien met his gaze with a smirk, clearly unfazed. “Good.”

Ivan retaliated by launching another pillow.

Later That Night…

Rowan had barely adjusted to the chaotic and lavish insanity of Damien’s penthouse when the next bombshell detonated.

At 7:00 a.m., a perfectly pressed woman in a tailored navy dress glided into the sunlit living room with an air of elegance as if she owned the room’s air.

Rowan, still in her unkempt bunny-print pajama pants, blinked in confusion. “Um. Who are you?”

The woman offered a polished, professional smile that radiated authority. “Ms. Hart, I’m Claudia. Your new household manager.”

Rowan nearly choked on her steaming cup of coffee. “My what?”

Before Claudia could respond, two additional people entered the space. One was a middle-aged woman with a clipboard who looked ready to manage a team, and the other was a young, enthusiastic guy clad in a pristine chef’s uniform.

Claudia gestured gracefully toward them. “This is Marie, Nessa’s new private nanny, and Louis, the in-house chef.”

Rowan nearly spit her coffee across the room in surprise.

“What the—Damien!”

Footsteps echoed as Damien strolled into the room with effortless confidence, clad in his pristine suit as if the chaos was a regular Tuesday morning.

Rowan pointed at the unfolding scene. “Explain. Again.”

Damien adjusted his cufflinks, his expression blandly unconcerned. “You needed help. I hired help.”

Rowan gawked, incredulity written all over her face. “You hired a staff?”

Damien met her gaze blankly as if her question was utterly absurd. “What did you think was going to happen? That I’d simply… let you do everything yourself?”

Rowan’s jaw dropped. “Yes! That’s exactly what I thought would happen!”

Damien exhaled a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temple as though she were the unreasonable one in this scenario. “Rowan Hart, I’m a billionaire. This is how I fix things.”

Rowan turned to Ivan, desperate for an ally in this madness.

Now leisurely sipping freshly brewed gourmet coffee and enjoying a flaky, perfectly crafted croissant, Ivan shrugged nonchalantly. “Honestly, I could get used to this.”

“Ivan!”

“What?” He gestured elegantly to the croissant. “It’s flaky perfection.”

Rowan groaned, casting an exasperated glance back at Damien.

And then—just to make everything exponentially worse—he smirked, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “So. When do we get married?”

Rowan choked, taken utterly aback. “I’m sorry—WHAT?”

Damien sipped his coffee, unfazed by the turmoil he had unleashed. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we might as well do it right.”

Rowan gaped in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?!”

Damien set down his cup, stepping closer until the air between them crackled with tension. “Rowan. I love Nessa. I’ve missed five years. I want to be in her life forever. And I want you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words settling heavily around them.

His voice softened, becoming sincere and vulnerable. “You’re it for me, Rowan,” he murmured, his gaze piercing her soul. You always were.”

Rowan’s heart hammered against her ribs with a ferocity that took her breath away.

And for the first time since this whirlwind began, she found herself utterly, completely speechless.

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Did Damien just drop the M-word? How will Rowan take it while dealing with the absurd reality of billionaire life?

Return to Chapter 4 <— —> Continue to Chapter 6