Page 20

Chapter twenty

~ROWAN~

Livia’s still asleep when I wake up.

For a few seconds, I don’t move. I just lie there, one arm under my head, staring at her. Her face is half-buried in my pillow, her lips slightly parted, her hair a mess from last night. She looks peaceful and soft in a way I’ve only seen once before—the morning I woke up in her bed.

And just like then, I can’t fucking stop looking at her.

This woman, this sharp-mouthed, relentless, painfully brilliant woman, is in my bed. I should be satisfied. Mission accomplished, right? She’s here. But that’s not enough. I don’t want her just to be here. I want her to stay.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Livia wasn’t supposed to get under my skin like this. She wasn’t supposed to look this good wrapped up in my sheets, making my bed smell like her. She wasn’t supposed to make me feel secure enough to open up about my parents. She wasn’t supposed to make me feel like I’d burn the world down for her.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand down my face.

I need to clear my head. The clause was supposed to help me get rid of her. Now, it’s the one thing that stops me from letting the whole world know she’s mine. And not because I’m worried about myself; I could care less. I’m worried about her—about all the dreams I want her to accomplish.

My phone buzzes. I slide out of bed and grab it off the nightstand.

ARES: Pulling up to your place. Make coffee.

Shit.

I pull on a pair of sweatpants and head downstairs.

The second I hear the doorbell, I swing the door open. Ares steps in, dressed in his usual black hoodie and joggers.

“It’s not a good time, Ares,” I say, hoping to get him out of here fast.

“Really,” he says, stepping around me and heading straight for the kitchen. “Tell me how badly you fucked up.”

“I didn’t fuck up.” My jaw ticks.

“If there’s nothing to discuss, I’ll take my coffee outside then.” Ares raises an eyebrow before pushing off the counter.

“Okay, wait, fuck…” I stop him. He always knows how to make people talk.

“I’m listening,” he urges, looking at me like he already knows.

“She’s upstairs,” I say, looking right at him.

“I know,” he shoots before I have the chance to close my mouth. “So, what’s the issue? The plan’s to get her to fuck you and get her fired.”

“I know the plan,” I grit out, not knowing how to explain to him that I don’t want her gone anymore.

Ares leans back against the counter, watching me with that too-knowing look. “You caught feelings?” he asks, and I shoot him a glare.

Yeah, I caught something, alright. Something dangerous. Something that makes it clear to me that I have to erase that whole damn plan, pretend it never existed.

But before I can say that to him, footsteps sound from the stairs.

I glance up, and my stomach fucking drops .

Livia stands in the doorway, already dressed in the green dress from yesterday, her bag over her shoulder. She looks at me, then at Ares. Her expression is blank. Too blank. But her eyes.

Her eyes are glassy.

And that’s when I know. She heard everything.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just stands there, gripping the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles turn white.

I move first, taking a step toward her.

“Livia…”

“What’s your address?” Her voice is flat, emotionless. But her eyes are filled with so much pain that all I want to do is fall to my knees and explain.

My chest tightens. “Livia, just let me—”

“What’s the damn address, Rowan?” she snaps, her voice shaking now.

Panic claws up my throat. I don’t know how much she heard, but it doesn’t matter. She heard enough. Enough to know that this started as a goddamn setup. That the reason I went after her wasn’t because I wanted her, but because I wanted her gone.

And now she’s walking away.

“No.” I shake my head. “You’re not leaving before I explain.”

She scoffs, eyes flashing with hurt and betrayal before fishing out her phone and opening what looks like the Uber app.

“Give me the address, or I’ll go ask the guards at the gate.”

“Let me drive you.” I take another step toward her. “I’ll explain everything on the way.”

“Don’t.” She takes a step back like she can’t stand to be near me. “Just give me the fucking address, Rowan.”

“Not before you hear me out.” My pulse pounds.

“Oh, I’ve heard more than enough,” her voice cracks. She tilts her chin up, blinking too fast, fighting tears. Fuck.

Ares, who’s been quiet this whole time, finally moves.

“Give me your phone. I’ll type it in.” He stands, calm and steady, holding out a hand.

Livia doesn’t even hesitate, doesn’t look at me. She just drops her phone into Ares’ hand like she can’t get away fast enough.

And fuck, that hurts.

Ares types in the address while I stare at her, trying to figure out what the hell I can say to fix this. But there’s nothing. No words. What the fuck do I say? Yes, I wanted you fired, so you could go back to milking cows and scooping up horse shit cause you were just doing your job, and I still haven’t healed from my stupid trauma? But I'm in love you now, so all is well? I can’t even convince myself that the feelings I’ve developed make this okay. How the fuck am I supposed to convince her?

He hands her the phone back. She glances at the screen, then turns and walks straight for the door.

“I’ll wait outside for the car,” she mutters.

“Wait, please.” I take a step forward, but Ares blocks me with an arm across my chest.

“Don’t,” he says, his deep voice low. “You go after her now, and you’ll make it worse.”

“I can’t just let her walk out of here like that.” I grind my teeth, fists clenching.

“Give her time to cool off.” Ares’ tone leaves no room for argument. “And give yourself time to figure out what the fuck you’re doing. Then, explain.”

The rink is busy when I get there, but I don’t hear any of it. My mind is locked on one thing. I have to find her.

I check her office first. Empty. The media room? Nothing.

Frustration builds as I stalk through the halls. I need to talk to her. I need to explain and fix this before it’s too late.

I push through the hallway, turning the corner, when I spot Damien heading out of the locker room. He glances up, a smile stretching across his face as he sees me.

“Have you seen Livia?” I call, already approaching.

Damien cocks his head, his sharp hazel eyes studying me.

“Saw her leave her office about five minutes ago,” he says, shoving his phone into his pocket. Damien steps closer, crossing his arms over his chest. “By the way,” he adds, lowering his voice slightly, “I heard some interesting sounds coming from your pool last night.”

“You eavesdropping now?” I level him with a look.

“Not my fault your house is next door, and sound carries.” He chuckles. “I was gonna send a text and tell you to keep it down, but,” he shrugs, “didn’t want to ruin your fun."

I exhale sharply, rubbing my jaw. “Yeah, well, it's not fun anymore. She found out.”

“Shit.” That wipes the smirk off his face. His expression sharpens, turning serious.

“Yeah. Shit,” I mutter. “She heard me and Ares talking. I need to find her.”

My phone vibrates.

I pull it out, hoping it might be her, but my stomach drops the second I see the text.

CHRISTINA: My office. Now.

“What?” Damien reads my expression in an instant.

I show him the screen from the HR rep.

“You think…” His brows dip together.

“I don’t know,” I say tightly. “But I have a fucking bad feeling about this.”

Without another word, I turn and head for HR, each step heavier than the last.

I pocket my phone, tension coiling tight in my shoulders.

When I reach Christina’s office, I don’t bother knocking. I just push the door open and freeze.

Livia is already sitting there.

Her hands are clasped in her lap, her fingers twisting like she’s barely holding it together. She doesn’t even turn to look at me, but I see her eyes. They’re red and puffy like she’s been crying for most of the morning.

I barely get the chance to process that before my gaze shifts to the other side of the desk. Christina sits with a serious expression, with the team manager beside her, hands folded neatly.

What the fuck is this?

The door clicks shut behind me.

I glance back at Livia, waiting for her to look at me, to say something. But she doesn’t. Her stare stays locked on the desk, her lips pressed in a thin line, like she can’t even bear to look in my direction.

A sharp, uneasy feeling twists in my gut.

“Sit down, Rowan,” Christina says.

My jaw ticks, and my pulse pounds.

Something’s very wrong. Has she told them? No, this job means too much to her. But if she hasn’t, why the fuck are we here?

I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I know one thing for sure.

This is fucking bad.