Rowan stared down at Esme with a calm, soft smile, his gaze steady and warm in the dim light of the hotel room.
Esme looked up at him, her pulse hammering against her ribs, completely rooted to the spot as he leaned in slowly.
She didn’t move, step back, or push him away; her mind had gone entirely blank, swept clean by the sheer proximity of him.
Lowering his face, Rowan tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her just enough to bridge the remaining distance.
Esme’s eyelids fluttered shut slowly.
Rowan watched her for a beat, the corner of his mouth curving softly as he shifted his lips away from hers at the last second, brushing a gentle, lingering kiss against the warm skin of her cheek instead.
He released his grip on her waist, the warmth of his hand lingering as he stepped back.
When Esme opened her eyes, Rowan was already walking toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice carrying a slight edge of hesitation.
He tilted his head slowly, hand resting near the frame.
“I’m leaving.” Esme looked down at the floor, biting her lip before chancing another glance at him, her cheeks flushed a bright, telltale crimson.
“Like…
leaving the hotel, or just the room?” Rowan held the door handle, a slow smirk spreading across his features.
“Which do you want it to be?” The heat on her face intensified.
She looked back down, mumbling, “Whatever you want.” “Whether I step outside this room or leave the building entirely is all tied to the answer you give me, Esme,” Rowan said softly, his eyes fixed on her.
Esme looked up, her gaze shifting to the designer boxes and the deep navy Harry Winston bag resting on the bed, then back to Rowan, who waited patiently.
Her mind raced “what am I doing” before she tightened her fists by her sides, took a breath, and spoke.
“I’ll go on a date with you.” Rowan’s entire face lit up with a bright, genuine smile as he took a step back into the room.
“Really?” Esme looked up at him shyly, the fight draining out of her posture.
“Yes.” “You can’t see it,” Rowan said, his voice dropping into a warm, low register as he closed the distance between them again, “but my heart is dancing all around you right now.” A quiet, breathless chuckle escaped her lips.
“My heart is dancing, too.” Rowan’s eyes widened slightly in dark delight.
“It is?” He looked around the quiet room, his smile softening.
“I wish I could see it.” He stepped fully into her space, his arm sweeping around her waist once more to pull her firmly against his chest.
Esme looked up at his face, her chin tilted up, a touch of her usual defiance returning as she raised an eyebrow.
“Where are you going to kiss me next?
My forehead?” Rowan shook his head slowly, his dark eyes fixed on her lips.
“No.
Here.” Before she could process the words, he pulled her flush against him and leaned down, his lips colliding with hers in a deep, decisive kiss.
Esme’s eyes snapped wide open, her mind short-circuiting instantly “WHAT THE FUCK?!” Rowan pulled back just enough to look at her, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
“You’re really sweet tonight.
You even let me kiss you.” Esme stared at him, her cheeks completely flustered, her face so red it felt like it was about to explode.
She put her hands against his chest and pushed him back with a stammer.
“Are…
are you crazy?!” He chuckled smoothly, raising his hands in mock surrender.
“I’m sorry.
I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.” Esme stared at him, her jaw tight, an annoyed scowl forming on her face.
“Why are you apologizing?” Rowan looked at her with exaggerated innocence.
“Because you didn’t like that I kissed you.” “Who said I didn’t?!” she snapped.
Rowan’s smirk returned, sharp and knowing.
“So you did like it.” Her face burned even hotter.
“I never said that!” She folded her arms tightly over her chest, pouting as she looked away toward the window.
He chuckled softly, turning toward the exit.
Opening the door slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs.” “Get out,” Esme muttered, refusing to turn around.
Rowan smiled, stepping into the corridor and closing the door gently behind him.
The moment the latch clicked, Esme turned toward the door, pressing her fingers against her lips as a deep blush took over her face.
“You’ve gotten yourself in real trouble, Esme,” she whispered to the empty room.
…
Outside the hotel, the dark night sky had thickened, heavy with the quiet stillness of the late hour.
Rowan stood leaning casually against the side of a sleek black sedan, one hand resting deep in his pants pocket while the other held his phone to his ear.
His demeanor had completely shifted, the warmth from the hotel room replaced by a cool, unbothered detachment.
“How many did you find?” Rowan asked into the receiver.
Xavier’s voice came through the line, crisp and businesslike.
“I found only eight, boss.” Rowan’s brows furrowed slightly.
“I want them all taken care of…
immediately.” “Yes, boss,” Xavier replied without hesitation.
“I need a good report about the other seven who ran away by tomorrow,” Rowan added, his tone leaving no room for failure.
“Consider it done, boss.” Rowan hung up, slipping the phone into his pocket just as a small group of three young women strolled past the entrance.
Seeing him standing under the streetlights, one of them, a girl with scatterings of freckles across her nose, smiled brightly and stepped forward.
“Hello,” she said, her friends giggling behind her.
Rowan looked up, his expression entirely neutral.
“Please, can we take a picture with you?” the girl asked, eyeing his tailored suit.
“You’re so handsome.” Before Rowan could respond, the hotel’s heavy glass doors slid open, and Esme stepped out onto the pavement.
Rowan’s eyes immediately darted past the women, landing on his wife, and his breath hitched.
The simple red dress hugged her natural curves flawlessly, the vibrant color striking against her skin, while her brunette hair fell over her shoulders in rich, glossy waves.
The delicate Harry Winston wreath sparkled softly at her throat, perfectly complemented by the sleek black heels and the Birkin held loosely in her hand.
It was elegant, expensive, and devastatingly effective without looking tried-through.
Without a word to the three women, Rowan straightened up and walked straight past them toward Esme.
“What the heck?” one of the girls muttered, turning around to watch.
Rowan stopped in front of Esme, a genuine smile breaking across his face as his gaze swept over her.
“Dear heavens…
you look amazing.” Esme’s cheeks warmed instantly, though she scoffed, “Shut up.” “Can’t you just be nice for one night?” he teased, offering his arm.
She raised an eyebrow, glancing past his shoulder toward the three women standing near the car.
“Oh, like those women were being nice to you?” They began walking toward the sedan together.
Rowan’s smile widened slightly.
“Are you jealous?” “You wish,” Esme scoffed, looking straight ahead.
Rowan placed a hand over his heart in dramatic fashion.
“Ouch.
That hurts.” As they reached the car, the girl with freckles whispered loudly to her friends, “Is that his girlfriend?” Esme shot them a sharp glare.
Rowan looked at the group, his tone smooth as he asked, “You wanted a picture?” The three girls nodded eagerly.
Esme turned to him, surprised by the sudden shift, but Rowan turned to her with a gentle expression.
“Can I have your phone, my love?” Esme blinked.
“What?!
Why mine?” “Please,” Rowan asked softly.
The women giggled among themselves, watching the interaction.
Esme sighed, unzipping her bag while her mind raced “Is he really going to make me take a picture of him with them?
Why does he even want a photo with them anyway?” She pulled out her phone, her frustration rising.
“Just like his brother.
I knew it.” Rowan took it, swiped open to the camera, and turned toward the group.
“Take our picture then,” Rowan said, motioning toward the device.
The girls’ eyes widened in surprise.
Esme froze.
“What?” The girl with curly hair snapped out of her shock first.
“Um, okay!” She stepped forward and took the phone.
Rowan turned back to Esme, reaching out to pull her firmly against his side by her waist.
“Look at the camera,” he whispered down to her.
Esme didn’t look at the lens.
She kept her eyes locked on Rowan’s face, her heart hammering against her ribs, while Rowan simply stared back down at her with a soft, quiet amusement.
Snap.
The curly-haired girl walked back over, handing the phone over with a bright smile.
“Done!
You two are really cute.” The girl with glasses nudged her hard, whispering furiously, “What are you saying?!” “What?
It’s true!” the curly-haired girl insisted, blushing slightly as Rowan retrieved the phone.
“Thank you,” Rowan said smoothly.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, her face turning pink before her friends grabbed her arms and began dragging her away.
“You foolish girl,” the one with glasses hissed as they walked off.
“Did you guys notice her bag…?” the freckled one asked.
“What bag?” the one with glasses asked.
“The Birkin, you idiot” “Oh my gosh, really?!” “Girl, you are so annoying, come on…” Rowan chuckled softly as their voices faded down the street.
He looked back down at Esme, who was still staring up at him, her hand resting against his chest where he had pulled her close.
“You can stop looking at me now,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he slid his hand off her waist.
Esme snapped back to reality, stepping back quickly as he handed her phone back.
She looked down at the screen; the photo captured the exact moment they were staring into each other’s eyes.
“We look cute,” Rowan noted casually, leaning near her shoulder.
“Maybe make it your wallpaper.” Esme looked up at him with a sharp glare.
“Ew, never!” Rowan chuckled softly.
“Alright.” He stepped past her to pull open the passenger door of the black car.
Esme glanced down at the screen one last time before slipping the phone into her bag and stepping inside.
Rowan shut the door smoothly, walked around to the driver’s side, and slid into the seat beside her.
The engine hummed to life with a quiet power, and the car pulled away from the curb, merging into the quiet, dark city streets.