5. Rowan

"Aunt B, you worry too much."

Rowan sat in the future office of his new condo. The entire place was empty except for the desk in front of him and the computers he had already set up. Purchasing it sight unseen, the idea had been to find a solid home base as he lobbied Ben Fairweather for a transfer to the Florida offices.

"Your mother is beside herself after hearing how you went out and bought a condo in Florida," his Aunt Bianca said. "Margie is acting as if she's never going to see you again."

"I offered for her to come with me." Rowan set the phone down to open a bottle of Irish whiskey. Just because he was alone didn't mean he couldn't celebrate. "Florida is a better alternative than what she's currently dealing with."

His father, the great and esteemed Phillip McIntyre, had recently been forced to retire due to a heart condition, and was currently driving Rowan's poor mother insane as he worried over the fate of McIntyre Enterprises. The eldest of Rowan's siblings had taken over the company, and Killian was known to butt heads with their father.

In short, things were not going well.

"Anything is better than a bored Phillip," Bianca agreed over the squawking of what was most likely a parrot. She moved to Costa Rica years ago, living a pretty awesome existence in Rowan's opinion. "At least Margie loves him. The rest of us would have killed him by now."

His parents did love each other. They loved their kids, too. Killian was the responsible one. A quintessential McIntyre who lived up to the expectations set out for him. He never wavered in his duty to their family or the betterment of their company.

And then there was the apple of their parents' eye. The baby and self-proclaimed free thinker of the family, his sister Caitlin handled the equine division at McIntyre. Long gone were his family's ranching days, but a small branch of the company continued to support their interests in the field.

And then there was him. The rebel who left the fold to break bread with the enemy. As a rule, McIntyres and Fairweathers tended to stay far away from one another.

A reminder alarm buzzed on his phone, and Rowan powered up the three monitors on the desk. "Listen, Aunt B, I've got to go."

"Hot date waiting for you?"

"Nah, I've just got work to do."

"Ben Fairweather is a workaholic. Don't let him turn you into one."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you know he had sex with your Grandma Paula once? She confessed to it right before she died," Bianca said, smacking her lips at the bird to get it to shut up. "Never a damn dull moment between the McIntyres and the Fairweathers."

Rowan learned two lessons at once. The first was never to let your guard down when talking to Bianca McIntyre. His aunt often allowed whatever she was thinking to fly right out of her mouth.

The second was that Irish whiskey really fucking burned when it shot out of your nose.

"Jesus, B!" Rowan coughed, trying to catch his breath through the fire. "Why would you tell me something like that?"

"I figured you were finally old enough to know."

He was thirty-two and would never be old enough. "I'm not."

"Loser."

Rowan's choking dissolved into laughter. "You're such a loving aunt."

"Oh, whatever."

And with that, the phone disconnected. Bianca wasn't one to say goodbye. She didn't believe in the word, thinking it too final.

Laying the phone on the desk, Rowan logged into the Fairweather security system to run an oversight scan on the network. It was a menial task completed regularly by his staff, but doing it now created an excuse for his credentials to be in the manifest.

Ignoring the scan scrolling at a paralyzing speed to his left and right, he focused on the large center monitor instead. The one currently displaying Haven House tucked in for the night. One at a time, he shuttered the cameras to where only a single unit remained active. A high-def piece of equipment positioned in a way that gave him a prime view of the balcony doors.

Doors that would open in a minute and reveal something he wanted.

Something that was already his.

She just didn't know it yet.

Reaching around, he pulled his shirt off, needing to feel the air on his skin. He would be nearly naked by the time they finished, so he might as well get started.

The condo was dark, leaving only the glow of the monitors. His heart hammered with anticipation as he waited, beating in time to the seconds passing at an agonizingly slow pace.

Yet the doors remained closed, and Rowan's lips twitched. She was punishing him. Earlier in the week, she had gone to dinner with someone new, and her date's credit card kept declining when it came time to pay the bill.

A terrible thing, really.

Unfortunately, this was the third date in recent months to run into this predicament, and he had a feeling she was finally catching on.

But even angry, she couldn't stay away.

The phone on his desk pinged with a message.

Ready?

The word had him unzipping his jeans to free himself from the tight strain against the material. Fridays were his favorite day of the week. Fridays were just for him.

He snatched the phone up to text a reply.

Ready.

Ever so slowly, the balcony doors opened one at a time to reveal a solitary chair in a shadowed bedroom. It sat on the edge of the door frame, and out of sight from anyone who might be wandering around the grounds or second-floor balcony.

Not that Haven had many residents these days. Not like when Rowan first learned of its existence. After the capture of Tobias Miller, his Aunt Viv told him the whole sickening truth, and at first, he'd found it hard to believe.

But as he and Annabeth became first friends, and now… this, Rowan accepted that as fantastical as it sounded, the truth behind the Fairweather family story was very real and rivaled his own family's drama.

Which was crazy because he thought no one could beat the McIntyres in the family drama department.

Rowan laid the phone on his bare chest, keeping it close to answer the call that would eventually ring through. His beautiful girl liked his voice in her ear when she fell apart. She needed to hear the words he would someday whisper when he took her in real life.

Soon.

This frustrating wall she'd built between them was wearing on his patience. Wanting her from the moment he laid eyes on her through Haven's security system, Rowan had been all in from the start. Annabeth had stepped onto the porch to water the plethora of plants spread across every available space, and it was as if his heart stopped. Calibrating the security cameras from his office that day irrevocably changed his life forever.

And the nearly transparent dress she had been wearing had nearly done him in entirely.

Feeling horrible for spying, he immediately exited the feed. However, the urge to see her overrode his better judgment, and he started logging in daily. He would listen as she talked to the plants or all those freaking cats around the house. There were even times when he found himself having one-sided conversations right along with her.

But the days of talking to himself were over. Replaced first by casual chats before transforming into long, in-depth moments where they truly came to know one another.

Annabeth Howard was everything he wanted in life. The only thing left to do was help her see how special this thing between them could be.

On the screen, the chair remained empty, and when she still didn't appear a few minutes later, he texted her.

You've tortured me enough. Come out.

Next to the chair was a small folding table, or Annabeth's workbench, as they called it. A place where she kept toys of various shapes and sizes at the ready. Tools she used on herself while he watched. Leaning forward, Rowan looked over the inventory with a grin. Hot pink seemed to be the theme for tonight.

His phone buzzed with Annabeth's name glowing brightly. Answering the call, Rowan remained silent until she spoke.

"How many dates have you gone on in the last month?"

Oh, yeah. She was pissed.

Good.

Maybe she was finally ready to accept this for what it was.

"Three," he replied. "Do you want their names so you can look them up on social media?"

"I would do no such thing."

"If you say so."

An incredulous huff blasted through the phone. "Oh, like you don't look into the men I go out with."

"Hell yeah, I do," he admitted. "And then I meticulously destroy them."

"Rude."

Rowan shrugged, even though she couldn't see. "I don't like people touching my things."

"I am not a thing." She stuck her head out from the side of the door's opening to glare at the camera. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over one shoulder, and Rowan's fingers itched to get tangled in it. "And I don't belong to anyone."

"Except me." Seeing her had his heart soaring. Nothing compared to this woman. "And I don't want to fight. Not tonight. Come out and talk to me."

Reluctantly, she appeared, wearing a plain white T-shirt that ended just below the hips. Normally, she greeted him in something more provocative. Annabeth had an addiction to lingerie, which he gladly indulged. At least once or twice a week, he sent her orders from the various shops she frequented online so she could model them for him on their Friday nights.

Doing as he asked, she moved to the chair and sat, crossing her legs primly. She adjusted the earbud in her ear and placed the phone on the table next to her. "Did you sleep with them?"

The women had wanted him to. One even tried to drag him into her house when he walked her to the door.

He didn't accept. He never did. Not with the one he wanted so close to being his. The dinners were all for show so Jamison would eventually spread the gossip to Annabeth.

"Would it bother you if I had?"

"Yes," she answered, her posture snapping straight. "Did you?"

"I did not."

On the screen, he saw her give a satisfied nod. Rowan laughed. "Did you sleep with any of the men you went out with?"

She hadn't, of course. He would have known. Since that first moan slipped past her lips when they tumbled into this arrangement months ago, Rowan had become a certified stalker. There were cameras all throughout Haven House, and then there were the ones in and around her bookshop. The little eateries where she met her dates within the Firewater development were also heavily monitored, and he could see her whenever he wanted.

So, basically, all the time.

Yes, he'd taken his obsession to the max and wasn't at all remorseful over it. He loved watching her. Loved seeing her laugh in the bright sun or stop to admire a rainbow appearing on a rainy afternoon. Sometimes, after closing the bookshop for the day, she would stand and watch the surf. The look on her face, one of yearning and appreciation, tore at him every time.

One day.

One day it would be possible for her to walk on that beach.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to miss it.

She was so smart on how she handled her limitations. The cafés she went to were always outside, and whenever she hosted a book signing, she held it on the shop's small patio in case the interior became too crowded.

Then there was the gym. Two doors down from the bookshop, it was one of the few places Annabeth felt confident enough to enter alone. Out of all the locations he watched her, the gym at Firewater was his favorite. His girl came alive there. Fear had shrouded her life for so long, but in that gym, Annabeth took control. It was amazing to witness not only the changes in her mindset but also in her body. Where she was once small and fragile, she now had become a powerhouse of slender muscle.

The self-defense lessons were going on two years now, and when Rowan searched for a private instructor, he made sure to find a female one who was close to Annabeth in size. Someone who would make Annabeth feel comfortable, but also show her that a woman like herself could be just as strong as anyone else.

She had no idea he had arranged the lessons, thinking the instructor was part of the gym membership. It was better that way, and he'd left it alone, only wanting to see her thrive in this new life she was creating for herself.

"I didn't sleep with them," she replied after a lengthy silence. "I have a feeling you already know that."

"I do, but let's move on." Rowan reclined in his chair, and she did the same. "What is that thing you're wearing for me tonight?"

The white shirt was too big and hung off one shoulder. She raised her arms over her head with a yawn, stretching the thin material tightly enough for him to see the shadow of her breasts and the dark nipples beneath.

"Nothing special."

Lifting one leg, and then another, she propped her heels wide on the seat's edge. "And nothing at all underneath, actually." Her knees fell apart, giving him a glimpse of heaven. "I hope you don't mind."

Rowan fisted his cock, grunting with approval. "Show me."

One corner of her mouth curved upward. "What do you want to see?"

"What's mine." He pressed a button to zoom in. "Show me."

Her fingers skated over her skin, with one hand lowering to rub circles between her legs, and the other speeding the opposite way to lift the shirt and reveal her breasts. Those beautiful eyes of hers started to close as she gave a nipple a hard squeeze.

"You know the rules." He wedged his pants further down, listening to her erratic breathing. "Be a good girl, and keep those beautiful eyes on me."

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, doing as he said. "I am a good girl."

"Ah, is that what you need to hear tonight?" Annabeth had a long list of phrases and terms she liked to hear him use while they did this. Her romance books come to life in her ear. "Well, you are a good girl. My good girl. But you know what else?"

Palming her entire breast, the circling movement of her fingers sped up. "What?"

"I think that even though you're my good girl, you still want me to fuck you like a bad girl. To use you until that sweet little body knows who it belongs to."

"Yes." The muscles on her abdomen shuddered. "Please."

Rowan placed his own earbud in and propped the phone in front of him. Things were going to go differently tonight. Meeting like this hadn't changed their friendship, and whenever they were around each other, neither of them acknowledged what went down every Friday. It was weird, but something she obviously needed.

However, he thought it was time to make this thing between them a little more real.

"Ms. Howard, I must say, you look good enough to eat," Rowan drawled in the native Texan accent he so rarely used. "I think it's time we play with some of those toys on your bench."

One of her fingers disappeared, her hips rolling as she fucked herself. Giving up on her breast, she reached for a light pink vibrator.

"I am good enough to eat." She sunk a second finger in, trembling at the stretch. Clicking the vibrator on, she stroked her clit. "I bet you could dine on me for days and never get enough."

"A lifetime."

Again, her eyes fluttered closed, and Rowan snapped his teeth. "Eyes. On. Me."

"But it's not you. It's a camera." She pouted, looking for him in the lens. "It's not fair that you can see me, but I can't see you."

"We should change that." The pump of his hand increased, thinking that bottom lip needed a good nip. "I get to watch you, but you never get to watch me."

"Exactly." A whimper escaped, her hips rotating faster. "You've seen all of me, and I get nothing in return."

Using his free hand, Rowan switched the call to video, and she immediately dropped the vibrator to accept. Her face filled his screen, and judging by the sharp intake of breath, his cock filled hers.

Camera positioning was everything.

"Oh my God, you're huge!"

Rowan laughed. He never thought humor and sex could go together, but Annabeth constantly surprised him. "Is that a problem?"

The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips while she studied him. "Not at all." On the surveillance camera, her fingers pumped harder. "But seriously, I don't think I've ever had anything that big in my mouth."

"But you will?" The very idea of fucking her smart mouth had Rowan thrusting in time with the stroke of his hand. "Swallow me down until you've absolutely ruined me for any other woman?"

"Hell, yeah I will."

These weekly late-night talks didn't always shoot straight into the main show. Sometimes they spent long hours talking until almost dawn. They covered the most mundane things and even the more serious topics including their previous sexual partners, with his being legion and hers being two. The first one for her had been the cop who beat him in asking her out during those first days of meeting.

The only good thing that came from that relationship was that she learned what it meant to be loved by a man. David had treated her right, and while that was all fine and dandy, Rowan planned on showing her what it meant to be someone's entire world.

If she ever stopped running.

"Are you thinking about what it's going to be like when I'm inside you?" he asked, and then groaned as she drove a third finger in. "Oh fuck, yeah you are."

"If I plan to take on something that size, I need to practice." She returned her phone to the table so she could grab another vibrator. "Are you watching?"

The condo could be on fire, and he would still be watching the slick in and out motion of her fingers. "I am."

"Come for me."

She was breathless, the hitch in her voice telling him she was close. He was ready to jump off that cliff too, his hips jutting forth.

"You first."

"Not tonight," she begged, giving up on her fingers to grip the vibrator with two hands. She rode the thing in a frenzy, causing him to shift forward to get a better look. One day, it was going to be his face she rode like that, suffocating him as he died the happiest of deaths. "Please, Rowan."

Ah, but his girl knew how to manipulate. A trait she must have developed from living around the Fairweathers for so long. She never called him Rowan. Face to face, or around other people, it was always Row. Only when it was just the two of them, and she grinded out her orgasm with him listening, was it Rowan.

"Let me see," she begged, whispering so no one else in the house would hear. "Let me in, Rowan."

God, if it were only that easy. Didn't she understand she was the one who needed to drop the act and let him in? All she had to do was accept that he was the inevitable endgame, and she could have anything she wanted.

His body.

His soul.

It all belonged to her.

"When I finally get a hold of you, Annabeth Howard, I'm going to fuck the idea of a life without me right out of your stubborn head."

With an open mouth smirk, she grabbed the phone again and held it between her legs, letting him get an up close and personal view.

"Holy fucking hell."

The orgasm hit him so hard it had his shoulders curling off the chair. Shouting, he strained to hold on to the pleasure shooting from his spine and straight to his cock. He painted his abs while she watched intently, growling at the small pants coming from her lips as she moaned for him to show her more. Give her more.

And somehow, he did.

Merely knowing her eyes were on him as he came had the intensity of his climax pitching it higher and higher. It lasted longer than anything he'd ever experienced, rolling over him like a Mack truck.

On his final moan, Annabeth tumbled over the edge with him, riding the vibrator as if it were his cock. She brought the phone up so he could see every ripple of ecstasy cross her face.

It was magnificent.

She was magnificent.

Panting, they came down together, chests heaving, smiling eyes watching each other.

He was still shaking when she spoke. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be in town this weekend?"

Since their friendship turned into what had just happened, they had only been in each other's physical presence twice. Annabeth had been awkward both times, keeping a safe distance. Rowan hadn't pushed, not one to avoid the signals being thrown his way. They had forever. Why force it? If his woman wasn't comfortable yet, they would ease into it.

"I bought a condo, and needed to sign paperwork," he said, cleaning himself.

Annabeth lowered the T-shirt to cover herself. "Are you transferring here permanently?"

The hope he heard in her question would be his undoing. "I'm working on it."

Working on it as much as he could. Without a valid reason, Ben was blocking his move out of Texas.

An alert coming from Haven's security system popped up on the screen to his left. Rowan switched to the live stream and saw Jamison wandering around the home's rear patio.

"How's Jamison?" he asked. "She's moping around the pool currently."

The lights under the water gave Jamison an ethereal glow, highlighting the fluffy robe she wore. It was well past midnight, and tomorrow wasn't going to be an easy day. She needed to sleep instead of sipping from the wine glass in her hand.

"Scary quiet." Annabeth disappeared to lay on her bed, leaving him with just a view of her feet dangling off the mattress. "She's absolutely devastated but is completely avoiding the subject, so we don't know how to bring it up."

Liam and Jamison had been the type of couple everyone envied. Besides being madly in love, the two were genuine friends, and to throw it away like this was insane.

"It looks like she's going to hang out there for a while," Rowan said, ending the feed when Jamison buried her face in her hands as she cried. It didn't feel right to watch. "I hate this for them."

"Do you think I should go down there?" Annabeth yawned. "Abe tried talking to her before he left to stay the night with whoever he's sleeping with these days, but Jamison was kind of short with him, and that was so not like her. They've always been close."

Simone might have raised Jamison, but she was still a Fairweather, and they weren't the type to allow people to see them at their weakest. "Leave it be."

They talked for a little longer, reluctant to let the conversation end. He almost asked her to meet him for breakfast when she mentioned a new deli opening at Firewater, but decided against it, not wanting to drag her from Jamison.

Once they hung up, he waited to switch out of the feed until she closed the balcony door. The scans weren't yet complete, and logging out before they were done would raise a red flag.

He pulled on his shirt while the never-ending layers of sequencing scrolled. It shouldn't be much longer. The code was his own. Lines of poetry he'd written himself and could recite in his sleep.

Except those four numbers.

Rowan's head tilted as four out of place digits punched in red on the screen. His system instantly rejected the entry, eating the numbers before he could even register them.

Bringing up the scan, he expanded on the section affected. All the branches were at his fingertips, and these types of errors were of the basic variety. An incorrect passcode when entering a building or powering up an account wasn't something he normally dealt with, and certainly not in the wee hours of the night, but his curiosity as to who it might be had him searching.

Narrowing it down to Florida, he almost didn't bother looking any further, positive it was Samuel. The man was dedicated, and if an idea struck him in the night for a new building or a fix on a current development, he worked it straight through.

Sure enough, with a few clicks, Rowan found the invalid entry. It wasn't coming from the Fort Lauderdale division, but from here in northern Florida. It had to be Samuel. He was likely half-asleep and mistyped.

The number sequence went off again, and again in the incorrect order.

Rowan frowned. Being wrong once was one thing, but being wrong twice for Samuel Fairweather wasn't possible. Rotating in his seat, he ran a secondary search from another unit, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention when the entry appeared again, but this time in the correct order.

The new scan completed as the code flashed green, telling him it was coming from the front gate of Haven House.

Someone was trying to get in.

Returning to the central monitor, Rowan pulled up the feed of the gate camera in time to see a midsize sedan driving past. The car's lights were off, but thanks to Ben Fairweather splurging on the best surveillance system out there, he could make out that there were three people in the car.

And all of them were wearing ski masks.

Hitting the silent alarm, Rowan sent a signal to the police in both Port Michaelson and Hollingsdale. The alarm would secure the entry points around Haven. Even with the passcodes these people obviously had, they wouldn't be able to enter unless someone let them in.

Zanmi never hid their faces, proud to support Toby, meaning this was likely reporters looking to get gossip after the news conference. The car inched onto the property at an agonizingly slow speed, and he fought the urge to call Annabeth. But he couldn't do that. She was safe inside the house, and he needed to focus on the person who wasn't.

Asleep on a lounge chair, Jamison remained oblivious as what appeared to be two men and a woman made their way up the front path. Rowan tried her cell, but nothing. She must have left it inside.

Out of choices and time, Rowan typed a text to Annabeth.

Wake your mother. Don't be scared. Alarms will go off in a sec. Cops are coming. I'm on my way.

He hit send, and shot off a follow-up message, knowing her as he did.

Do not get involved.

Hoping she listened, Rowan checked the response time coming in from Port Michaelson PD. Their estimates said they were roughly twenty minutes from the house, while he was a good thirty minutes out. Samuel was close, and as soon as Rowan hit the ALL Alert in the next few seconds, Jamison's brother would receive a message on his phone.

The intruders would receive a message, too. Once initiated, the system would go into a dizzying fit of lights and blaring sirens. Created to terrify anyone who dared approach, the closer these people came to the house, the better.

The trio gathered at the front door security box, but his system held, denying their correct passcodes. On the second floor, a light in Annabeth's room flared to life.

Rowan hovered his mouse over the ALL Alert, giving Annabeth time to get downstairs and warn Simone. He didn't want to scare his future mother-in-law out of bed in the middle of the night. She already didn't like him.

Checking the patio feed, he saw Jamison was still sound asleep. That was probably a good thing. If she knew there were reporters sneaking around, she would freak out on them.

A pissed off Jamison Fairweather was not something anyone needed right now.

One of the men on the porch broke from the group to peer through the front parlor windows. Rowan zoomed in to get a better look, and when the man lifted his hand to place on the glass, the distinct shape of a gun appeared.

"Shit."

Rowan hit the ALL alert, and the scene whited out for a moment as the camera recalibrated to adjust to the brightness of the security lights. Sirens wailed out of every speaker, filling the silence of his condo. He should call Samuel and give him the details on what was going down before the man ran headfirst into the situation.

But instead, he called someone else. Someone who was just as close and would keep a level head.

At least, he hoped.