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."

ROWANNE'S POV

It was just dinner. That's what I told myself over and over like saying it enough times could make it true.

Yet here I was, standing in front of my mirror, looking nothing like a woman who was just going to dinner.

The gown I'd chosen was far too short, clinging to my thighs.

The silk shimmered faintly under the light, the red soft enough to pass for innocent, though there was nothing innocent about the way it hugged my body.

My hair loose and cascading in waves down my back was a deliberate kind of carelessness. I'd spent nearly an hour perfecting it, running my fingers through until it fell in that effortless, seductive way that looked like I hadn't tried at all.

The scent of my shower gel lingered on my skin, honey and peony. I had used the expensive one, the one I saved for rare occasions, the one Jett had once said made me smell like temptation itself.

My chest tightened. I pressed a hand to my heart, as if I could steady the rhythm.

"It's just dinner," I whispered again, but my reflection didn't look convinced.

She looked... conflicted. Nervous and guilty. And underneath all of that, she looked alive.

It was the kind of aliveness I hadn't felt in so long it scared me.

I reached for my earrings, gold hoops that brushed against my neck, then added a touch of gloss. Every small movement felt indulgent. The kind of ritual a woman performed when she knew someone would be watching.

When she wanted to be watched.

My pulse stuttered at the thought. Eli's eyes. The way they followed me.

I turned away from the mirror, grabbed my clutch, and took a deep breath before stepping toward the door.

When I stepped outside, the air was cool enough to bite, wrapping around my bare legs.

But the sight of the sleek black car waiting at the curb killed that thought almost instantly.

A tall man in a fitted suit stood by the door. "Ms. Carter?"

"Yes," I murmured, clutching my purse a little tighter.

"I'm Aaron," he said, offering a curt nod. "Mr. Carter's assistant. He sent me to pick you up."

The way he said Mr. Carter made my stomach twist. For a second, I wasn't sure which one he meant.

Aaron opened the door for me and I stepped inside.

I folded my hands in my lap while my heart had other plans, pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.

When we pulled up to the restaurant, Aaron was already out, circling to my side.

"We've arrived, Ms. Carter," he said smoothly, opening the door once again.

"Thank you," I whispered, stepping out. The ground beneath my heels felt too steady for how unsteady I was inside.

The restaurant was quiet and elegant with dim lighting and soft music.

Aaron led me through the narrow hall toward what looked like a private wing. My pulse quickened with every step. The space grew quieter, more intimate.

And then, there he was.

Eli sat at a table near the far corner, phone pressed to his ear, head slightly tilted as he spoke in low tones. He wore a dark suit that fit him too perfectly, the fabric catching just enough of the light to make him look carved out of something dangerous and divine.

But then he saw me.

And the world stopped moving.

He ended his call immediately, not even finishing his sentence. The faintest smile ghosted across his lips but his eyes told another story entirely.

No man, not even Jett, had ever looked at me like that.

Like I was something he shouldn't touch but couldn't resist. Like an angel who had fallen into his reach and he was deciding whether to worship or ruin her.

My breath caught, trembling in my chest.

Eli rose as I approached, the smooth motion. The low light from the chandelier brushed along his jaw, catching the edge of a smirk that wasn't really a smirk just that faint, knowing curve of a man who noticed everything.

"Rowanne." My name left his mouth like it was a secret.

I exhaled softly, forcing a smile that felt too practiced. "You could've just texted me the address, you know."

He ignored the remark, stepping closer. His scent reached me before his touch.

He pulled out my chair, his fingers grazing my bare shoulder for only a second. It shouldn't have made me shiver. It did.

"Thank you," I murmured, sitting down, though my body was far from relaxed.

He sat across from me, resting one hand loosely on the table, the other on the armrest.

The silence that followed was awkward.

"You look..." his gaze lingered."...breathtaking."

I smiled, feigning a lightness I didn't feel because the truth was my insides were trembling from his gaze.

He didn't smile back. His voice was quiet, but it hit me like a pulse. "Dangerous... breathtaking."

The words sank into me, slow and deliberate. My pulse leapt. I brought the glass to my lips, taking a sip that was far too long, hoping the cool sting of wine could drown the heat rising in my throat.

"You invited me to dinner," I managed, trying for composure.

He leaned back slightly with his eyes still locked on me. "Dinner's just the excuse."

I swallowed hard. "Excuse for what?"

"To see you," he said simply, like that explanation should have been enough. "Without pretending we don't remember what happened."

My breath hitched. "Eli... what happened that night was a mistake." My voice was softer than I wanted it to be, fragile. "I'm married to your brother even though he is gone... I still am and I accepted dinner because I thought I should clear the air... I don't... we shouldn't do this."

His gaze didn't waver. "But it wasn't a mistake," he said, tenderly, as if saying it too harshly might break me. "You don't have to say it, Ro. I know you replayed that night a thousand times. Every second of it."

It was just him and me now. And damn him, he was right. I had replayed it. His touch. His voice. That kiss that still lingered like smoke on my lips because no man had ever kissed me like they were obsessed with me.

I looked down, trying to steady the tremor in my hand. "We can't- don't you get it. It can never happen. You are Jett's younger brother. What would people say if they find out?"

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't wake up wishing I'd stopped you before you kissed me?"

His eyes darkened, his tone splintering between restraint and confession.

"But I didn't," he went on, softer now. "And I don't regret it. I don't regret kissing you. I want you, Rowanne."

The sound of my name on his lips nearly undid me. I looked up slowly, meeting his gaze.

A breath left me, shaky and low. "You should regret it," I whispered. "You should because I'm your brother's wife. You think Jennifer would accept us? You think anyone would?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks. I only care what you think, peach."

I forced myself to breathe, to find the pieces of reason scattered inside me. "I do... I care what Jennifer thinks. What they all think, Eli. I can't do this. Not like this."

I rose from my seat, grabbing my purse.

"We can't see each other for a while. If this keeps happening. If it keeps coming up."

For a moment, he didn't move and just watched me with his expression cold and jaw tight.

Then, quietly, almost too quietly, he said, "I'll take you home."

"No, you don't need to."

"I wasn't asking, peach," he said, rising. Just as he reached me. I felt his hand on my back, directing me.

I straightened.

ROWANNE'S POV

For a moment, I wanted to protest again but the way his hand rested on my back silenced me. It wasn't rough. It was possessive. It was steady, warm.

Like he commanded me silently... the kind of touch that said he wasn't asking.

Eli didn't look at me, didn't say another word. He just guided me through the restaurant like the world existed only in the inches between us.

The pressure of his palm against my spine made my pulse race far faster than it should have. My body betrayed me, remembering what it felt like to be pressed against his, to taste his breath when the lines blurred last time.

Outside, the night wrapped around us, soft and cool. The faint scent of rain lingered in the air.

"Get in carefully," he murmured.

He placed one large hand against the frame of the car, the other hovering above my head to shield it as I bent to slide in. His nearness sent a shiver down my skin. The air between us was thick with things we didn't say.

He closed the door gently. I watched him circle to the driver's side, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable, but his silence spoke louder than anything.

As we drove, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at him.

The sharp lines of his face caught the flickering light from the passing street lamps, the firm set of his mouth, the muscle in his jaw twitching and the faint vein that pulsed near his temple. His fingers gripped the steering wheel.

He didn't look at me once, but I could feel him. The tension in the air between us was alive, rolling off him like heat and crawling under my skin until I couldn't breathe properly.

When the car slowed down at my home. I said quietly, "You didn't have to."

He turned his head finally, his gaze meeting mine dark, steady, and devastatingly soft. "I'll walk you in."

And that's when it hit me how dangerous that would be. My control was already stretched thin. One touch, one second too close, and I knew I'd crumble.

"No," I said, but my voice came out fragile, almost pleading. "That's fine. I can walk myself in."

I wasn't sure if he even heard me. Eli's jaw flexed. Without a word, he stepped out, his tall frame moving around the car. He opened my door and stretched out his hand, waiting.

I just stared at him, knowing he wouldn't back down. His patience was its own kind of power, masculine and impossible to resist. I took a slow breath, ignoring his hand as I stepped out.

He shut the door behind me, and all I could feel was him. His presence towered over me, so magnetic. My pulse pounded in my ears.

I walked faster, desperate to reach my door. But just as I reached for the lock, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, strong.

"Eli-" He turned me sharply, and I stumbled back.

My spine hit the door, the cool metal pressing through my dress. My head nearly struck it too, but his hand caught the back of my skull, shielding me. His body was inches from mine, heat pouring off him in waves.

"Eli!" I breathed, though it came out softer, more like a moan than his name.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing against my cheek. I turned my head to the side, trying to breathe, but his scent filled my lungs intoxicatingly.

My heart hammered wildly. If he moved just a fraction closer, he'd feel it.

"I meant it," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Every word, Ro. I want you. I want to love you. Touch you. Kiss you, and..."

I knew the next word. I knew it before he said it. But I stayed still, trapped in that sliver of heat and danger, waiting and wanting to hear it from him.

"Fuck you," he murmured finally, his lips so close I could almost taste the word as it slipped out darkly like a prayer meant only for me.

I swallowed, my throat tight and dry, fingers clinging to my purse as if it could ground me.

Eli's voice came low, steady, threaded with a dangerous kind of calm. "I can smell the hunger in you. You don't have to suppress every ache, Ro."

My breath caught. His words hit me. He took a small step closer with the faintest smile playing at his lips.

"When you stare at me with those blue eyes," he murmured, "I can tell how much you want to run your fingers through my hair just like you did that night. Even now, I can tell how much you're testing your control."

He didn't pause, didn't falter.

"I know you and Jett never clicked. Your marriage was arranged. I know he never loved you..." His eyes softened, the next words coming like a promise. "But I can. I can love you in ways that would leave you breathless."

The words sank into the air between us. He was seducing me. He was confessing.

I looked up at him, my pulse hammering so hard I thought I could hear it. His eyes were serious, darkened by something that felt too real.

He didn't stammer. Not once.

"I am your sister-in-law," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips. "Married to your brother. You would fuck your brother's wife?"

He smiled faintly at the way the word came out raw, shaken, almost like it burned my tongue.

His voice dropped. "You're all I want, Rowanne Steele."

That name. Steele.

It struck something in me. The devil, they said, was ugly. But the man in front of me was anything but. Brown-haired, blue-eyed, tall, too beautiful for someone who could sound so damn sinful. His tongue dripped with honey and each word coaxed me closer to temptation.

The name Steele hadn't left anyone's lips since my marriage to Jett. He'd made sure of it. That I changed everything. My passport, my ID, even my work files. I was Carter now.

But Eli had called me Steele to remind me of who I was before. Of how single, how widowed I really was. How free I was to crave another man.

He leaned back then, watching me quietly. "I just want you to be happy," he said softly, "and smile like you did at my apartment. You look radiant, Rowanne."

My chest tightened. I swallowed again, trying to breathe through the weight of his gaze. "That's... that's not your problem."

He smirked, his eyes trailing down my body, before rising to meet mine again. "Go in," he murmured. "And answer my calls, Ro."

I hesitated for a second, my heart slamming against my ribs. I couldn't stand those eyes any longer with the way they stripped me bare.

I turned away, reaching for the door, when his voice came again, deep and rough enough to still me. "You looked very beautiful today. As always."

My chest ached. I turned back. Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, I couldn't breathe. Then, I tore myself away, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

As soon as I closed it, my body slumped against the wood. My breath came shallow, shaky and quick.

Was he still outside? Watching?

I forced myself upright, flicking on the lights. The mansion glowed in cold silence. It was too big and too empty. Every echo of my footsteps reminded me how alone I was.

Sometimes, it felt like Rapunzel was trapped in a tower. No one really saw her. No one understood her.

Except Eli and one look from him, and I felt seen. Exposed. Desired. Alive.

My phone rang suddenly. The sound sliced through the silence. I found it in my purse, and relief washed over me when I saw the name. Vivian. My sister.

I answered quickly. "Rowanne!"

"Oh, Vivian," I sighed, climbing the stairs, trying to steady my voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Don't tell me you forgot my wedding?"

I froze mid-step. My heart skipped. "What? No. I-" I swallowed. "I already arranged everything. I'll be in Thailand next week."

"Good!" she said cheerfully. "Better be early. I have a little surprise for you!"

She giggled, and before I could respond. The call ended.

I reached my room and sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The world felt too heavy.

Then it hit me, hard and clearer. I dialled her back immediately. When she picked up.

I said, "I'll be there in two days."

There was no hesitation in my voice this time. I needed distance. I needed to breathe again.

Maybe Thailand's waters would cool what Eli Carter had ignited. Maybe time away would make him come to his senses.