Chapter 16
768 Words
Charlie turned—and froze.
For a heartbeat, the noise of Grey’s fell away. The lights. The music. The screaming laughter behind her.
Rowan stood at the edge of the VIP section, tall and immovable, dark eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. He looked different here—sharper somehow. More dangerous. Like the club was a flimsy thing he’d stepped into from a much darker world.
Her smile faltered, then slowly returned, softer this time. Confused. Curious.
“Charlie?” Anna yelled from behind her. “WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE SEEN A GHOST?”
Mia followed her gaze—and promptly gasped. “Oh my god. It’s him.”
The dancer stepped back instinctively, reading the shift in the air even if he didn’t understand it.
Rowan didn’t spare him a glance.
He crossed the last few steps with controlled ease, stopping just close enough that Charlie could smell him—clean, woodsy, something wild beneath it. Familiar in a way that made her chest ache.
“Huh… Hello ,” Charlie choked, the words tumbling out before she could think. Not upset. Just… stunned.
Caleb and Asher stayed back, respectful but alert, forming an unspoken barrier without drawing attention. The girls, meanwhile, were losing their collective minds.
Anna grabbed Mia’s arm. “IS HE REAL?”
“He’s real,” Mia whispered, eyes wide. “And he looks like he could kill someone with his eyebrows.”
Charlie laughed weakly, still looking at Rowan.
His gaze flicked over her once more—slow, appreciative, reverent—and then back to her eyes. “You okay?”
The question grounded her.
She nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
Good, his posture seemed to say. Because the tension didn’t ease—but it settled, like something powerful had finally found where it belonged.
Around them, the music surged, the party roared on.
Anna stepped forward, wobbling slightly on her heels, champagne bottle still clutched like a weapon of celebration.
“Hi,” she said brightly, pointing at herself with great effort. “I’m Anna. I’m getting married.” She leaned in closer, squinting up at Rowan. “And this—” she swept an arm wide, nearly taking out Mia, “—is my bachelorette party.”
Rowan blinked once.
Then he smiled.
It was slow and genuine, softening the hard lines of his face as his gaze dropped—inevitably—to the very obvious plastic p***s hanging from Anna’s neck, bobbing cheerfully against her sparkly dress.
His brow lifted just a fraction.
“I see that,” he said calmly, amusement threading his voice.
The girls lost it.
Mia cackled. Chloe covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Charlie groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Anna, please—”
Anna looked down at the necklace like she’d forgotten it was there. “Oh. Yes. This is… ceremonial.”
Rowan let out a quiet chuckle, eyes flicking back to Charlie, warm and fond. “Congratulations,” he said to Anna. “It looks like you’re celebrating properly.”
Anna nodded solemnly. “We’re very committed to the theme.”
Rowan inclined his head, clearly entertained—and for the first time since entering Grey’s, the Alpha relaxed just enough to let the night breathe.
Rowan shifted slightly, angling his body just enough to include the two men behind him.
“These are my friends,” he said easily. “Caleb and Asher.”
Caleb gave Anna a respectful nod, expression calm despite the chaos. “Congrats,” he said. “Looks… festive.”
Asher grinned outright, eyes flicking to the necklace and then back up. “I feel like we’ve walked into something sacred.”
The girls burst out laughing again.
Mia leaned over to Chloe. “I like them. They look like they could bury a body and still be home in time for dinner.”
Charlie shot her a look. “Mia.”
Asher’s grin widened. “We’re very punctual.”
Rowan shook his head slightly, amused, his gaze returning—inevitably—to Charlie. The introductions made, the tension shifted, easing into something warmer, more charged.
Rowan leaned in just enough that the noise of the club faded for Charlie—and no one else.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, voice low, steady, meant only for her. His gaze dipped briefly, deliberately, tracing the line of her dress, the curve of her back, before returning to her eyes. “But I’ll see you later.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a promise.
- Writer
