Page 21

Chapter twenty-one

~LIVIA~

I sit in the HR office, my hands clasped in my lap, knuckles white from how tightly I’m gripping them. My heart is hammering, and my stomach is twisting into something ugly and cold.

I don’t know why I’m here. All I know is that I don’t like it. I was already drowning under the weight of everything that happened this morning. Hearing Rowan and Ares talk about the plan that was supposed to end me, knowing that he was supposed to end me. And now I’m here. The seconds stretch. The walls feel too close.

I open my mouth to ask Christina what we’re waiting for when the door clicks open behind me. A dark, woodsy cologne drifts over to me, and I know it’s him before I even turn my head. This confirms my suspicions.

They know.

Rowan strides in, his expression tight with confusion. His gaze immediately lands on me. There’s a flicker of relief like he’s just glad to see me. But then his eyes narrow, his body going rigid as he takes in my posture.

“Sit down, Rowan,” Christina says, pointing at the chair beside mine.

Instead of sitting down, Rowan turns back to me.

“Livia,” he says lowly.

I don’t respond. I’m piecing it all together in real time before him. Has he told them? He didn’t even wait for the ghost of his touch to disappear before he screwed me over?

The chair beside me scrapes against the floor as he pulls it out. I still don’t look at him. Rowan doesn’t take well to being ignored.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?” His voice is rough, laced with something dark and impatient as he looks at Christina.

“You’ll both want to pay attention.” Christina clears her throat from across the desk.

That’s when I finally meet Rowan’s gaze. And I hate that, despite everything, despite how hurt I am, I can still feel him. That suffocating intensity. That raw attraction I feel each time I look at his infuriatingly perfect face. He uses it as a weapon to get what he wants. It’s not fair, but what is nowadays? You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few hearts.

And I’m about to find out if he’s shattered my career along with it.

“You wanna cut to the goddamn chase, Christina?” Rowan grits out.

“We have footage of the two of you violating the moral clause.” Christina folds her hands neatly on the desk, her expression unreadable.

My heart stops, my nails digging into my palms as my lungs feel impossibly small. Beside me, Rowan stiffens, his entire body going stone-cold still.

“What?” His voice is low. Dangerous.

Christina doesn’t even blink. She reaches for the laptop in front of her, taps a few keys, and then turns the screen toward us.

My breath is locked in my throat, and then I see it. The video plays—it’s grainy security footage from the stretching room.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Rowan’s behind me, his massive frame pressed against my back, his hands gripping my waist, his mouth at my ear.

My eyes are glued to the screen as one short sentence keeps playing on a loop in my head. You’re done.

The footage shows Rowan turning me around. And his hand slides down my leggings.

That’s where the footage ends before it can get worse. My entire body is on fire. Not with desire. With absolute mortification.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, knowing exactly what follows.

I can feel the weight of Rowan’s stare, feel the anger crackling off him like a goddamn wildfire.

“Since when do we have fucking cameras in the stretching rooms?” He turns back to Christina, his voice eerily calm.

“The cameras were installed upon request.” Christina’s lips press into a thin line.

“Whose request?” Rowan’s fingers flex against his thighs like he’s holding himself back from putting his fist through the desk.

Christina exhales slowly like she’s been waiting for this part.

“Funny you should ask,” she says, clicking her pen before leveling us with a look. “The same person who reported you two to HR.”

“Name, Christina,” Rowan barks.

“I can’t give it to you, Rowan. You know that.” Christina shakes her head before turning the laptop back toward her.

The shock is quickly swallowed by pure, consuming humiliation.

My career. My reputation. It’s all about to be ripped out from under me because of the man sitting next to me, because he wanted me gone. Because I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

I knew this was coming, but actually hearing it, having it laid out in front of me like a signed death sentence, it makes me feel like I’m free-falling.

Christina clears her throat. “Livia, I understand this is difficult, but the clause is ironclad. I’m afraid—”

“Don’t.” Rowan’s voice is like a warning shot. He looks like he’s about to murder someone.

“Rowan…” Christina hesitates.

“You think you can fire her over this?” His laugh is sharp, dark. “When the cameras were installed without our knowledge? Do you realize how many laws that breaks? Privacy violations? Unlawful surveillance?”

Christina doesn’t flinch. “Rowan, those are valid concerns, but that doesn’t change the fact that Livia signed a contract. She was aware of the clause when she accepted the job.”

Rowan shakes his head, jaw tightening.

But my mind is elsewhere. This is it. I’ll have to go back home, beg my parents to let me work on their farm, and try to forget about this chapter of my life. This will get out, and no one will ever hire me again.

“So that’s it?” His voice drops. “You’re firing us over some pixelated footage of us stretching?”

Stretching.

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“What?” He looks at me, eyes sharp.

“This isn’t about you, Rowan,” Christina says, straightening. “There’s no moral clause in your contract. This is about Ms. Moody. You just needed to be present since you’re involved as well.”

The message is loud and clear. I’m the only one who will bear the consequences of this. I’m the only one who has to leave. I feel relief despite myself. I don’t want to drag Rowan down with me. He’s worked way too hard for this to be fired over a rookie PR who didn’t follow the rules. But God, it hurts.

I finally turn to him. My voice is steady, even though my chest is caving in.

“I broke the rules.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I knew the consequences.”

“No.” Rowan shakes his head. “No, that’s not how this goes.” His eyes burn into mine.

I inhale sharply, keeping my expression neutral, trying not to break as I look back at Christina.

“How long do I have to pack up my things?”

“This is bullshit,” Rowan snaps.

“I’m sorry, Livia,” Christina sighs. “Your termination is effective immediately. You can pack your things now.”

Rowan’s hands slam onto the desk. I don’t flinch, but Christina does.

“You fire her,” he roars, “and you’re gonna have one hell of a legal fight on your hands.”

I reach for his arm.

His muscles are coiled so tight that he’s shaking.

“Rowan.” My voice is quiet and calm. I’d say I’m about a minute away from an emotional breakdown. But I can’t do it here. I’m walking out with dignity. I’m not begging anyone for forgiveness over something I did fully intentionally.

He turns his head slowly, looking down at me, chest rising and falling too fast.

“It’s done,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “There’s nothing else to fight for.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He stares at me like he doesn’t understand what I’m saying.

I square my shoulders and drop my hand from his arm.

“Enough, Rowan.” And then I say the words that end it all. “You’ve fucking done enough.”

His face goes blank, his lips parting.

“Livia, I’ll walk you out,” Christina exhales.

“No need, Christina.” I shake my head, rising to my feet. “I know where the door is. Thank you for everything.”

Rowan’s still watching me, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.

Instead, I walk to the door with every ounce of strength I have left and don’t look back. I make it all the way to the elevator before I hear him.

“Livia.” His voice cuts through the air, sharp and urgent.

I keep walking, my head high, my heels clicking against the floor, my fingers wrapped so tight around the strap of my bag that my knuckles are white.

I don’t care what he has to say.

I don’t care about his excuses, backpedaling, or desperate attempts to improve this. Because nothing can make this better. Nothing can fix this.

A strong hand wraps around my arm, pulling me to a stop.

“Livia—”

I rip my arm away from him and spin around so fast that he actually takes a step back.

Good. Let him be afraid of me for once. Let him fucking feel it.

“You got what you wanted, right?” My voice is shaking. It’s not weak; it’s just filled with too much. Too much pain, too much anger, too much of everything.

“Fuck, no.” His jaw clenches. “That’s the last thing I want.”

I laugh, a hollow, bitter sound that barely feels like it belongs to me.

“You wanted me gone,” I snap. “From the second I walked into this job, you wanted me out of here. You wanted me to be some weak little thing that couldn’t handle you.”

“That’s not what you are.” He shakes his head.

“You called me a mosquito.” My voice cracks. “You told me I didn’t belong here. You made it impossible for me, and I still.” I suck in a breath, my nails biting into my palms. “I gave you everything.”

“And you have no idea how much it means to me. Please, let me make this right.” His eyes flicker, the desperation in them seeming real.

“No.” I shake my head, my chest heaving. “I believed you,” I whisper, and it feels like something is shattering inside me as I say it out loud. “Yesterday, when you said all those things, I believed you.”

His lips part like he wants to say something, but I don’t let him.

“I hated myself for thinking you were more than just an asshole. I beat myself up for it. I told myself I was being stupid, that I was being too quick to judge. I thought there was a good man behind all of it, an honest one.” I swallow the lump in my throat, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought I misjudged you, and I was right—I did misjudge you. Because you’re so much fucking worse.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, looking like he just took a punch to the gut. Like every word is a bullet lodging into his chest.

Good. Because I’m bleeding out in front of him.

I should have kept walking, ignored him, let the doors close, and never looked back. But I didn’t, and now I’m standing here, face to face with him, while every single piece of me is crumbling to dust.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough, raw. Like he's barely holding himself together.

“What do you want me to say, Rowan?” I swallow hard, my throat burning.

“That you’ll listen. That you’ll hear me out.” His hands flex at his sides like he’s stopping himself from reaching for me. Like he knows he doesn’t deserve to touch me.

“Listen to what? More bullshit and playboy lies? More of you telling me how I don’t belong here?” My voice breaks on that last part, and I hate that he hears it.

“I never meant that when I said it.” His jaw tightens.

“Oh, really?” I snap, my anger flaring, barely covering the way my chest feels like it’s about to cave in. “Because you said it enough times for it to feel pretty damn real.”

“I was being a dick on purpose. I wanted to get under your skin. I wanted you to feel like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. I was trying to make you leave because I wasn’t ready for what you wanted of me. I couldn’t do those interviews. I couldn’t talk about my parents. But you never gave up, and yesterday, when I told you about all of it, the way you looked at me…” He drags a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I wasn’t being an ass because you’re incapable. I was being an ass because I was terrified.” He exhales hard, his eyes dark and pained.

I freeze. For a second, I just stare at him. And then I shake my head. No. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to hear some half-assed excuse, some desperate attempt to fix what can’t be fixed.

“Terrified?” I let out a harsh breath. “Of what, Rowan? Of a person you couldn’t control? A person who actually fucking stood up to you?”

“No,” he says quickly, urgently. “No, I can handle those just fine. I became terrified of what you make me feel. I became terrified because when I saw that man touch you at the club, the only word that flashed through my head was ‘mine.’ I wanted to kill him for touching you, Livia. I thought it was just physical attraction, but it's so much more. I can’t think straight without you. I woke up today, and I watched you sleep, and you looked so peaceful, so comfortable in my bed. I wanted to make you coffee but didn’t know how you take it. That’s when I realized,” he takes a step closer, “that I want to know everything there is to know about you. Your favorite color, movie, meal, if you prefer ice cream or cake, all of your little habits. To make my home comfortable enough for you to…” he falters, closing his eyes briefly, “to want to stay.”

I blink away the hot tears, and they roll down my face. I want to believe him. But I won't be that stupid ever again. Because there’s nothing I could gain from it. There are no games to play anymore because it’s over. I’m gone. Without my job, I can’t afford to live in LA. He just made sure he never sees me again.

“Please.” He swallows hard, his voice dropping to a whisper.

A lump forms in my throat, thick and suffocating. I hate how much his words hurt. How much they make me want to forgive him. But I can’t.

“None of it matters now.” I shake my head, stepping back.

“How can you say that?” His eyes flash. “It does!”

“No.” I lift my chin, ignoring the way my voice shakes. “It really doesn’t. Because you took my heart, my body, my career, and set them on fire. Because I have nothing left to give you, Rowan.”

I see it then, the moment his heart cracks. His shoulders tense. His lips part like he wants to argue, like he wants to say something else as he reaches for me, but I don’t let him. I take a step back.

“You got what you wanted,” I whisper, my voice aching. “You don’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“Did you listen to a word I said?” His expression twists. “I don’t want you to go—”

“Goodbye, Rowan.”

And this time, when I walk away, I don’t stop. Not when he curses under his breath. Not when he calls my name one last time. Not even when my heart shatters. Because it’s already too late.