ROWANNE'S POV.

He was beautiful. God, dangerously beautiful. Jett was handsome, but Eli. He was different. I remembered the first time I saw him was at my wedding. He was different.

Then the smile faded. His eyes dropped to my hand. I realised what I was doing and jerked back. "Oh. I'm sorry-"

Eli caught my hand, placing it right back where it had been.

"My type?" he said, his voice lowered now, almost like a growl. His gaze trailed from my hand to my lips to the neckline of my dress. My skin burned everywhere his eyes touched.

"Blue eyes. Five foot seven. Smooth skin. Long. Wavy. Sandy blond hair. Red lips. Soft hands..."

My heart stopped. It was almost as if he wasn't describing a type. He was describing me.

I forced a smile. "Quite detailed."

Then I snatched up my glass, downing it too quickly, desperate to drown the heat rising in my chest. But even as the wine slid down my throat, his eyes never left me.

As I looked back at him, he was still staring. That gaze left me breathless with my chest rising and falling too quickly.

"Eli?" My voice cracked, almost a whisper.

His eyes dropped to my lips before finding mine again. "Yes, Ro."

I swallowed, my pulse hammering. And then, almost like a pull, I couldn't resist. I wrapped my hands around his neck, crushing my lips against his.

Shit. No.

He should've pushed me away. He should've reminded me that I was Jett's wife. That I was still in mourning. That this was wrong.

But he didn't.

Instead, his hand slid against my waist, dragging me closer until I was straddling him, my legs clinging to his body. The heat of him bled through his undone shirt, and the scent of wine mixed with his cologne. It was so dizzying.

My gasp was swallowed when his hands climbed my spine, fingers splaying, gripping me tighter, desperate like he had been starving and I was air.

"Eli," I breathed against his mouth, trembling, "this is-"

"Wrong?" he rasped, his forehead pressing against mine, his lips brushing mine again. His blue eyes burned into me.

My heart slammed against my ribs as guilt and desire waged war inside me, but God help me. I didn't move.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, holding me there, like he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go.

I kissed him again. Harder, this time. My tears wet his lips, but he kissed me like he didn't care. Like he'd been waiting for this or for me.

And for one reckless and aching moment, I let myself believe it.

Oh, God. My pussy stung with the ache of want. The heat spread as I got wetter beneath the press of him. It was unbearable. The need to be touched, to be taken, to be used in the most reckless way.

Eli's lips left mine only to trail higher, brushing across my cheek before settling at the shell of my ear. My body shivered at the husk of his breath there and a low groan vibrating from his chest into mine.

His hand slid up until he cupped my breast through the thin fabric of my blouse. My nipples tightened instantly against his palm, aching for more.

His fingers flexed, squeezing.

"Eli-" I gasped, but the word melted into a moan as his mouth moved to my neck. The way his teeth grazed my skin and his lips lingered at the hollow of my throat.

I threw my head back, arching into his touch, into his heat, and surrendering to it. His tongue traced the sensitive curve of my skin, setting fire in every nerve. And then I saw it.

The glint of gold at the edge of my vision. My ring. Jett's ring. The one he had slipped on my finger. The one that should have been sacred.

Goosebumps erupted across my skin, cold and sharp, cutting through the haze of desire. My stomach lurched. What the fuck was I doing?

"Eli. Wait!" My voice cracked as I pushed against his chest, slipping out of his hold. My feet hit the floor almost unsteadily, but I forced myself back, putting space between us. His gaze stayed on me so damned searing as if they demanded answers I didn't have.

"I-" I licked my lips, eyes darting anywhere but him. "I... I have to leave." The words stumbled out shaky.

I snatched my bag and phone from the table with my shaky hands. I didn't dare glance back, because I knew if I did, I'd fold, and the next step would be his bedroom.

"Thank you for the wine," I forced out, my voice brittle, foreign even to me. And then I walked fast, though my legs almost betrayed me, heavy with everything I was leaving behind.

"Ro," His voice followed me.

I didn't look back. My focus was on the door, the only salvation I had left. My pulse hammered so hard it hurt as I yanked it open and slipped out, shutting it behind me like a shield.

"Wait, Rowanne."

Hearing my full name in his mouth almost undid me. My heart clenched and my lungs stilled but I kept moving.

I rushed down the hall, my heels striking against the floor, the sound too loud in the silence. The elevator loomed ahead like a lifeline. I pressed the button with trembling fingers as my breath ragged. When the doors slid open, I nearly fell inside.

I froze. But then, I heard him. The door to his apartment opened behind me.

My body jolted, panic and longing collided. I stabbed the button again, watching the doors inch closed, achingly slow.

And then my gaze locked on his as Eli was walking toward me with each step burning straight through me. My chest rose and fell with the steps he took.

And then the doors sealed shut.

I exhaled, a heavy and shaking breath I didn't even know I'd been holding. My knees nearly buckled, my heart slamming like I had escaped something dangerous. When in truth, a part of me had wanted to be caught.

Two days later.

"Mrs Carter, your mother-in-law is around."

The sound of Nana's voice pulled me back to reality, shattering what I had been wrapped in. My fork clattered against the plate.

"What?" My throat went dry. "My mother-in-law? What is she doing here?"

Nana's expression shifted uneasily, and her lips parted as if to explain, but nothing came out. That damned silence made my stomach twist.

I pushed back from the dining table, my pulse quickening. The only reason my body jolted with panic was Eli. My mind leapt back to that night, to his hands on me and my heart thrashed. Did he tell her?

The thought speared through me as I rose to my feet to see Jennifer Carter, Jett and Eli's mother.

Facing her now felt like standing on the edge of a sinkhole, like she could see my sins before I even spoke.

I tried to breathe, but my chest was too tight. Did I regret it? No. That wasn't what haunted me. I wasn't drowning in regret. Because when I thought of Eli's mouth on mine, the heat of his body against me. I didn't feel sorry.

And that terrified me.

Because it was wrong. So wrong that the memory made my chest clench every time it flickered behind my eyes. Wrong, because the moment I spotted Jennifer Carter in my living room, I thought of him.

Was that some kind of test? A line I shouldn't cross and almost did, but I didn't?

We hadn't made love. I had stopped it. I had pulled away before we went too far. That was supposed to be enough to save me. Right?

Jennifer turned at the sound of my footsteps. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glistening from tears. Her composure frayed as soon as she saw me. She moved quickly until she was clutching my hands like a lifeline.

"Oh, Rowanne," she whispered, her voice breaking as her other hand cupped my face and her thumb brushing along my cheek. "You didn't have to go through any of this."

I froze, my breath catching as confusion clawed up my throat. "Any of... what?"

Her tears split freely now. Her grip was trembling as she pulled back slightly, freeing one of my hands. She wiped at her cheeks, drawing in a shaking breath before she forced the words out.

"They are saying-" her voice cracked with disbelief. "The police say Jett's death wasn't a... wasn't a casual accident."

My stomach dropped, the floor tilting beneath me.

Jennifer's lips trembled, her eyes searching mine. And then she gave a long pause before her mouth parted again.

"It was murder." Her voice was a hollow whisper. "Someone murdered my son. Your husband."

ROWANNE'S POV.

"It was murder." Her voice was a hollow whisper. "Someone murdered my son. Your husband."

The words hit me like a blade to the chest, and like a flash, the air seemed to have vanished from the room and from my lungs. My heart pounded, while my thoughts scattered like broken glass. Murder? Not an accident?

I staggered back, Jennifer's hands slipping from mine. My lips parted, but no sound came, only silence and the furious hammering of blood in my ears.

Jennifer dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief, her breath hitching as she steadied herself. "The police... they said the brakes. They weren't just worn down, Rowanne. They were tampered with. It was cut."

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her hand to her chest as if holding herself together.

The room tilted again.

"They also found glass in the tread of his tyres, consistent with broken bottles, deliberately placed. It wasn't bad luck." Her tears streamed, but her voice grew harder and brittle with fury. "It was planned."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Oh my God..." My voice was barely a whisper as my hands clutched my stomach.

Jennifer stepped closer, lowering her voice like she was afraid the walls might be listening. "The police don't know who yet. They said it could have been anyone who wanted him gone. I don't know why someone would want my son sweet. Jett was perfect, he was sweet. But they said it could be someone close or someone he trusted."

Her eyes flickered over me, searching.

"But they believe the killer is still out there. And until they know who... You must be careful, Rowanne. You hear me? Very careful."

Her grip found my wrist again, shaking. "Don't go anywhere alone. Don't trust easily. And if anything... anything feels wrong, you come straight to me. Do you understand?"

My breath trembled, caught between the horror of her words. "I... I understand," I managed, though my voice cracked, weak and broken.

*****

"I think. You know what I think, Rowanne? You'd better stay out of this. That whole family. Did she call her son sweet? Perfect? Why didn't you tell her what he did, huh?" Kalea yelled.

"Lea..." I sighed.

"He cheated on you! He was in love with some woman, that's why he refused to make love to you. His wife! Perfect? I think it's a good thing he died."

"Kalea! That's enough," I snapped, breaking heavily.

A knock interrupted her next words, and I immediately answered, tearing my glare from her to the door. "Come in."

"Oh, Mrs Carter, I wanted to confirm if you would be going to the charity dinner tonight?" Rita asked.

"Yeah, I would, Rita. Thank you."

"No problem, ma. Your dress just arrived at your mansion. Do you need me to call Jamie?"

"Yes. Yes," I sighed as I rose, grabbed my coat, and turned away from Kalea. "We will be heading home now," I finished.

"Alright, Ma. I'll prepare the car," Rita finished, closing the door after her.

"No, I am not following you to some boring party to watch rich people gamble over shit and call it charity."

"I don't want to go alone. That place is going to be filled with the Carters and everyone related to the Carters."

Kalea stared at me, and I managed to pull a smile. "I ordered a dress for us and there's gonna be food. Oh, I remember one of the chefs is Lamar."

Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and I could see I had succeeded in buying her.

Hours later, I stood before the mirror in the bedroom, the ivory silk gown draping over me.

"You know. I love how silk looks on you. I feel like you shouldn't give that up. That's your fabric. And this dress matches your skin tone."

"Really?" I smiled, looking back at Kalea before turning back to the mirror.

The fabric was soft and hugged my waist before flowing in effortless folds to the floor. The plunging neckline dipped tastefully but was held by pearl straps that kissed my shoulders.

A small rosette sat just beneath the bust, subtle but deliberate, like a secret detail. My hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that fell like a dark ribbon against my spine, exposing the pale line of my neck.

Gold hoops glimmered at my ears, a matching pendant resting against the hollow of my throat.

For the first time in weeks, I almost looked like myself. Almost. Beautiful.

On our way, Kalea fussed with her hem. Already complaining even when we weren't there yet but she still had this amusement in her eyes. Although she wouldn't admit it, she liked the effect the dress had on her too.

The Carter Foundation's annual charity gala was held at the Grand Carter Hotel, a towering glass structure that glittered against the night sky. Inside, the ballroom was all chandeliers, and waiters moved with silver trays, glasses of champagne.

Men in tuxedos and women in couture gowns like mine, some even better and beautiful, swayed between conversations, and the orchestra beneath the hum of a live jazz band.

It was elegant and so suffocating.

Kalea looped her arm through mine as we descended the staircase into the ballroom.

My chest tightened with every step, a hundred eyes sweeping over us, some curious, some pitying especially because of Jett. I forced a smile, nodded here and offered a polite word there.

As we blended into the crowd. I scanned the crowd possibly for Jennifer. I haven't heard from her since the last time she came over. No one in Carter's mansion would tell me anything, but then, something caught my gaze. Eli Carter.

He stood across the room in a tailored black suit, the cut precise against his lean frame. His tie was done this time, so clean enough to make him look both composed and dangerous.

His hair was slicked back with his jaw tight, and his expression was almost irritated as he conversed with a man I didn't recognise.

And then his eyes found mine like a punch to the chest, so blue, burning and icy all at once.

I froze, caught in that stare for a second as heat prickled down my neck, through my arms and pooling low in my belly where guilt already sat heavy. My breath hitched, and before the tension could shatter me, I tore my gaze away.

A waiter swept past, silver tray glinting beneath the chandelier light. I caught a glass of champagne before he could move on, my fingers tightening slightly against the stem.

The bubbles kissed my lips in a rush almost punishing. I swallowed too quickly, the fizz biting my tongue, but it was better than drowning in those blue eyes I'd just seen across the room.

I forced myself to turn away, to breathe. And yet, I didn't feel composed. I felt watched.

My hand tightened around the stem of my glass as my gaze swept the crowd. Then I spotted Jennifer.

My mother-in-law. Her eyes locked on mine, and she lifted her hand slightly.

"Rowanne? Come here," she called softly.

I adjusted my posture, forcing a small, polite smile. Each step toward her felt like I was walking through water.

My pulse thudded in my ears, but I managed to hold her gaze, pretending not to notice the whispers that trailed behind me.

Just as I reached her, her expression shifted and her focus flicked up, over my shoulder. The warmth in her face bloomed into delight. I didn't have to turn around to know why.

It could only be Eli.

The air seemed to change when he walked in, like he carried with him a quiet dominance that made heads turn without trying.

"Hey, Mom," his deep voice brushed against my back like velvet.

And then his hand grazed my waist barely a touch, almost nothing.

But it was enough. Enough to send a tremor through me so fierce I forgot to breathe for a heartbeat.

I froze, but only for a fraction of a second, forcing my lips into another smile, one that didn't quite reach my eyes.

"Oh, Eli," Jennifer cooed, beaming. "This party is really amazing. You did a fine job, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Mom," he smiled at her, polite and controlled. Then, slowly his gaze slid to me.

When our eyes met, my stomach twisted. His look was calm and blank, yet there was something underneath it. I turned away at once, pretending to adjust my dress, pretending I didn't feel the weight of his attention burning into me.

Panic clawed up my throat, tight and hot. It felt like everyone could see it. The thing that shouldn't have happened. The kiss. Something I couldn't scrub off no matter how many times I told myself it was a mistake.

It hadn't even been two months.

Two months after my husband's death, I crossed a line with his brother. I wanted to disappear.

"Ro?" My name left his lips and the sound of it froze me mid-step.

I turned, hiding behind another smile, though it felt brittle, stretched too thin. I was running out of fake smiles.

"Hey," he chuckled softly. "You look lovely. Beautiful."

ROWANNE'S POV

I turned, hiding behind another smile, though it felt brittle, stretched too thin. I was running out of fake smiles.

"Hey," he chuckled softly. "You look lovely. Beautiful."

The compliment slipped through my skin, gentle but his eyes said something entirely different. I didn't dare look too long.

Jennifer clapped as her face brightened again. "Oh, Rowanne, this is Madam Tira. She owns O.P. Electronics. Most of which Jett..." she faltered, the name cutting through her like glass.

Her voice trailed off, and I could see the grief flicker in her eyes again.

Eli's hand found her shoulder, holding her steady and comforting her but his gaze never left me.

Not once. Every time I looked up, I found him watching.

My pulse stuttered, and I lifted my glass again, needing something or anything to do with my hands. I had to leave before anyone noticed how his eyes never left me.

"Jett kept most of them at the mansion after your wedding," Jennifer finished softly, and I nodded, pretending to listen.

But all I could feel was Eli's stare and the ghost of his touch at my waist.

The party had split up into the gardens, where the air was cooler and quieter. Fairy lights draped along the stone walls shimmered like scattered stars, and the night breeze played gently with the hem of my gown.

I'd slipped away the moment no one was watching.

Now, sitting on a marble bench beneath a climbing arch of white roses, I held the neck of a half-empty wine bottle like an anchor.

The champagne hadn't helped earlier. This definitely wouldn't either but at least it numbed the ache sitting heavy in my chest.

But pretending only worked until the footsteps came.

I stiffened. My fingers tightened around the glass neck of the bottle, and I even turned.

Eli stopped a few steps away, the moonlight catching on his jaw, his tie loosened now and his eyes darker than I remembered.

I stood abruptly, brushing invisible wrinkles off my dress. "Don't."

"Don't what?" he asked quietly. His voice carried that low, steady timbre that could command a room or undo me.

I took a step back. "You shouldn't be here. Not with me."

He moved closer. "Don't run from me, Ro."

His words sank into me.

"I'm not-" I started, but he closed the distance before I could finish, his hand coming up to catch my waist.

The wine bottle nearly slipped from my grip as his warmth pressed through the fabric of my gown.

"Eli," I whispered, glancing nervously toward the ballroom. "We're at a charity event with your mother!"

His lips curved, though it wasn't a smile, but his head dipped closer, and his breath brushed against my hair. I felt him inhale slowly. Like he needed it.

My heart was a frantic thing, thrashing inside my chest.

"Dinner," he murmured, his voice so low, like a deep mumble that vibrated my veins. "Have dinner with me. We can talk."

I shook my head, though my body betrayed me by staying still.

"There's nothing to talk about," I lied.

His grip softened, one hand still at my waist and the other brushing down the side of my arm just once, enough to make my skin come alive.

I wanted to move. To say no. But when I looked up, his gaze caught mine and the rest of the world fell away again. His breath. The pulse in my throat refused to calm.

"I can't," I whispered, though it sounded weak, even to me. Eli's eyes searched mine, the softness fading to something deeper.

"Yes, you can," he said. "I promise to be gentle and nice"

I should've moved. I should've walked away before his voice, that low velvet rasp, could undo me again. But instead, I stood there motionless with every nerve alive beneath his touch.

His thumb traced slow circles at my waist, grounding me. I hated how much I still wanted him, hated that my body didn't seem to remember the Jett, only the way he made me feel like I was seen.

"Eli..." My voice trembled, the sound barely a breath. "Please, don't make this harder."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in that unreadable way that made my pulse trip. "Harder?" he echoed. "You think being ignored by you has been easy?"

I blinked, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. His hand brushed my jaw, his fingers just shy of my skin.

"That's torture."

I exhaled shakily, "Eli, people will see," I murmured.

My words didn't even sound like mine anymore, they were thin.

He leaned closer until the space between us vanished. His breath was warm against my temple as he whispered, "Then tell me to stop."

My knees felt weak. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a broken sigh.

His hand moved from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair. The only sounds were my unsteady breaths and the faint rustle of the roses swaying above us.

My lips trembled as I met his gaze. I opened my mouth to speak, but I heard footsteps lightly against the stone path.

Eli's reflexes were fast. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me flush against his chest. His scent was deep and filled my lungs as I heard the intruder's voice.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," a woman gasped softly. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

I remained still. Eli's grip loosened but didn't fall away entirely until the woman turned and hurried back toward the ballroom. When her footsteps faded, silence rushed in again.

I stepped back, my pulse still erratic. I couldn't trust my voice, not after what almost happened, not after the way my body betrayed me. So I didn't speak.

Not one word.

I turned on my heel and walked away. My steps were quick as I forced myself not to look back.

I needed air.

I headed toward the restroom. My hand was on the door when I heard a voice coming from the side alcove.

Jennifer's voice.

I froze.

"I hate to say it, but yes, I do suspect her," she was saying. "Rowanne had the motive... I mean, who else? Everyone knows how Jett didn't adore her."

My throat went dry.

"She would be surprised to hear Jett didn't leave anything for her," Jennifer continued. "Not the house, not the cars, not a single cent. Jett didn't leave her anything."

A pause followed.

"No, I'm not accusing her outright," Jennifer said. "But tell me, what kind of woman stays that calm after her husband's death? She barely shed a tear at his burial. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. She could have killed him."