Esme dragged Rowan out of the restaurant, her knuckles white around his wrist while he followed her with an infuriating smirk playing on his lips.
Once they hit the open pavement, she stopped, her chest heaving as she tried to regulate her erratic breathing and calm the sudden, overwhelming surge of anger.
Rowan just stood there, watching her quietly.
Frustrated by his intense gaze, Esme turned to face him, her features twisted in annoyance.
“What?” He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes dropped down to her hand, which was still gripping his wrist tightly.
Esme followed his gaze, realized what she was doing, and instantly let go as if he had burned her.
She took a swift step back, trying to restore a safe distance between them.
Rowan casually smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt, his smirk broadening.
“Where did that come from?” “Fuck off, Rowan,” Esme snapped, glaring at him.
He chuckled, taking a half-step closer.
“One minute you’re declaring that no one else is allowed to touch me, and the next minute you’re chasing me away.” Esme averted her eyes, looking anywhere but at his face.
“I was just angry.
I didn’t mean anything I said.” “So Layla can have her way with me, then?” Rowan asked, his tone laced with lighthearted provocation.
Esme shot him a lethal glare, but he only chuckled again.
She huffed, looking away to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered she actually was.
Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb right in front of them.
Rowan stepped forward and opened the passenger door for her, but Esme stood her ground.
“I’m not going home right now.” Rowan paused, looking at her thoughtfully.
“Why not?” “I just don’t want to be around you for now,” Esme said bluntly.
He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening into genuine concern.
“Are you okay?” “I do not want to be around you,” she repeated, firmer this time.
Rowan stared at her for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
He closed the car door and signaled to the driver.
“Leave.” The car pulled away slowly, leaving the two of them standing alone on the sidewalk.
Esme’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?
Aren’t you going with him?” Rowan smiled softly, his eyes fixed on hers.
“I don’t want you running away from me.” Esme groaned in sheer frustration.
“I need space!
And it’s not like I can actually escape you anyway, you fucking bastard.” She turned on her heel and started walking briskly down the street, putting distance between them.
Rowan fell into step a few paces behind her, matching her stride effortless.
Esme abruptly stopped and spun around, throwing her hands up.
“What is your problem?
Leave!
Go!” Rowan stopped too, looking at her with a remarkably innocent, almost puppy-like expression.
“Where?” She raised an eyebrow, entirely unamused.
“What do you mean, ‘where’?
Look around!
Go to the places you usually go to.
Don’t you have dangerous business to run?
People to kill?
Just leave me alone.” Rowan walked closer to her, closing the gap until his low voice was intended for her ears only.
“But I want to be with you right now.” “And I do not want to be anywhere near you,” she declared, her voice firm.
Rowan held her gaze for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he stepped back, standing tall and composed.
“Alright.” Esme blinked, thrown off by his sudden compliance.
“What?” He smiled softly, the sharp edge of his usual demeanor entirely absent.
“I do not want you to be uncomfortable, Esme.
So I will give you space.” He tilted his head slightly, his smile lingering.
“Go breathe.” Esme’s defensive posture faltered slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips.
“Good.” He gave her a quiet nod.
Esme turned around and resumed walking down the sidewalk.
As she walked away, Rowan pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket, dialed a number, and brought the phone to his ear.
Further down the street, Esme felt a sudden, uncomfortable pang of guilt tightening in her chest.
“Why do I feel bad?” she thought.
She turned her head slightly to glance back.
Rowan was still standing in the exact same spot, phone pressed to his ear, watching her walk away.
The moment their eyes met, he slid his free hand out of his pocket and gave her a small, cheerful wave.
Esme snapped her head back forward immediately, quickening her pace.
“What the fuck, Esme?
You need to get out of his proximity.
You’re going completely nuts.” Back on the sidewalk, Rowan kept his eyes locked on Esme’s retreating figure.
Speaking into his phone, his tone shifted back to its natural, authoritative command.
“Keep a close eye on her.
Make sure she’s safe.” “Yes, Boss,” the voice on the other end responded instantly before the line went dead.
As Rowan lowered his phone, the heavy glass doors of the restaurant swung open.
Layla stepped out, her eyes scanning the area until they landed on Rowan.
A scheming smile spread across her face, and she strutted over to him.
“Oh, you’re still here, handsome,” Layla purred, stepping into his personal space.
“Where’s that bitch Esme?” Before she could press further, another black vehicle pulled up to the curb in front of them.
Layla’s eyes glistened at the sight of the expensive car.
Rowan paid her no mind, he simply opened the door and stepped inside.
Layla’s mouth fell open.
“What?
Aren’t you going to take me with you?” Rowan paused, his hand resting on the car door.
He turned his head and gave her a cold, unblinking glare that made the smile fade instantly from her face.
“Be safe,” Rowan said coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion.
He pulled the door shut, and the tinted windows obscured him completely as the car accelerated down the street.
Layla stood frozen on the sidewalk, her expression a mix of confusion and indignation.
“What the fuck does that mean?” She rolled her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms.
“The idiot has been infected with Esme’s disease.
Too bad…
he’s cute.” She huffed, looking around the empty street before walking off.
…
Night fell rapidly, transforming the city’s side streets into dark, shadowy corridors.
Layla stumbled down a narrow, dimly lit alleyway.
Her high heels dangled uselessly from one hand, while a lit cigarette was pinched between the fingers of the other.
Music blasted through her AirPods, and she hummed along off-key, utterly oblivious to her surroundings.
Suddenly, her grip slipped, and one of her heels clattered onto the dirty pavement.
She stopped, groaning loudly in annoyance.
“Stupid heel…” Sighing, she bent down to retrieve it.
But just as her fingers brushed the leather, the quiet tapping of footsteps echoed in the alley.
A pair of sharp, black high heels came to a stop directly in front of her.
Layla froze.
Slowly, she stood up, brushing off her dress as she looked at the figure standing before her.
The woman was dressed entirely in black, a form-fitting black t-shirt, sleek leather pants, and dark sunglasses that completely hid her eyes despite the nighttime darkness.
Layla eyed her up and down with utter disdain.
“What?” The woman spoke, her voice eerily calm and deliberate.
“Are you Layla Brooks?” Layla glanced around the empty alley, unimpressed.
“Yes.
Who’s asking?” Without missing a beat, the woman tilted her head slightly.
“Who’s the bitch?” Layla raised an eyebrow, genuinely confused.
“Huh…” Before she could finish the thought, the woman drove a hard, compact fist straight into the side of Layla’s head, sending her crashing into the brick wall.
i really enjoyed.