“You may leave,” she commanded in mock authority, a small smile playing at her lips.
As if I would have waited for her permission.
Chapter 15
Violet
Rowan shadowed me later that evening to my second Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu practice, with the same relentless patience he’d shown all day. Aside from the brief reprieve he’d granted me, we’d spent most of the day together. Despite that, he refused to falter in his surveillance.
He positioned himself against the wall near the mats, arms crossed, those pale eyes tracking every movement as I rolled with my training partners. I’d stopped trying to pretend his presence didn’t affect my performance. It did. Everything felt sharper, more precise, like I was performing rather than simply training.
When practice ended, and I’d changed back into street clothes, he was waiting exactly where I’d left him.
The walk back to my dorm was quiet, our footsteps falling into synchronized rhythm on the concrete path. Students passed us in clusters, their voices bright with weekend plans and exam stress. Rowan said nothing, but I felt his attention like a physical weight, cataloging every person who came too close, every shadow that lingered too long.
Exhausting. This was exhausting. But it was also, in a way I refused to examine, comforting.
We climbed the stairs to my floor, and I unlocked the door with my key—the metal scraping in the lock, the familiar click of the mechanism releasing. Rowan followed me inside, removed his shoes at my prompting, and sat on my bed. He settled cross-legged against the headboard, pulled a book from the bag he’d been carrying, and opened it with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.
Go ahead, make yourself right at home in my personal space.I should have resented it. Should have demanded he wait in the hallway or the common area like a normal guest. Instead, I just dropped my gym bag and headed for my desk, pulling out the textbook I needed for that night’s studying. It was nearly nine, almost curfew, so I knew I needed to shower, which meant Rowan would be leaving soon after.
We’d barely settled into comfortable silence when the door opened, and Alice stepped in, her arms loaded with textbooks and her laptop bag hanging from one shoulder. She stopped short when she saw Rowan, surprise flickering across her features before transforming into something like amusement.
“Funny seeing you here, Gonorrhea Boy.” Her tone was teasing, friendly, completely at ease.
Rowan glanced up from his book, his expression utterly unbothered. “It is chlamydia, but thank you for your concern.”
She smiled at that, genuine warmth crinkling the corners of her eyes.
A dark, unwelcome emotion rose in my chest—hot and possessive and absolutely inappropriate.Jealousy?I shoved it down before it could show on my face.
“He’s helping me study,” I said quickly, my voice coming out sharper than intended. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Alice moved with her characteristic calm, setting her things on her desk and shrugging off her jacket—a light cardigan in soft gray. “Not at all. Natalia was here earlier but said she had something to do. I don’t mind the company, really.”
Relief washed through me, unexpected and profound. Most roommates would have objected to a six-foot-five man occupying their shared eight-by-twelve dorm room.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it.
Rowan’s curiosity had apparently been piqued. He set his book aside—keeping one finger between the pages to mark his place—and asked, “Is Natalia another dormmate of yours?”
We both shook our heads in unison, and I waited for Alice to explain. I was curious about Natalia myself—the striking woman with flowing white hair and flawless dark skin who’d visited a handful of times, always seeming slightly otherworldly in our mundane space.
Alice hesitated, her hands pausing where they’d been arranging textbooks on her desk. Finally, she said, “She’s a very close friend. We grew up together, actually. Her family has known mine for generations, so it only made sense we’d end up at the same university.”
Rowan let out a low whistle, his attention fully focused on Alice now. “A strong family tie, then.”
She nodded, and I watched something complicated cross her face—affection mixed with pain, loyalty mixed with burden. “My mother was her wet nurse until Natalia outgrew the need. We lived on the family estate, and when my mother died. . .” She paused, swallowing hard. “Natalia refused to let her father force me out. She insisted I stay, that I was family regardless of blood.”
Surprise rippled through me. That kind of loyalty, that protection across class lines, spoke to a bond deeper than simple friendship.
“You two must care deeply for each other,” I said, trying to imagine growing up in that dynamic—servant’s daughter and wealthy heir, boundaries blurred by genuine affection.
“We do. Very much so.” Alice’s voice softened with unmistakable love.
“Where exactly did you grow up?” Rowan asked, and I noticed his posture had shifted. More alert, focused in that particular way that suggested he was filing information away rather than making idle conversation.
“Romania.” Alice pulled her hair tie out, letting her dark tresses fall free around her shoulders as she massaged her scalp.
