Chapter 18
1451 Words
The shift was immediate. Purposeful. He cut across the dance floor like a storm, shoulders squared, presence undeniable. Charlie felt it before she saw him—felt the air change, the pull tighten.
Rowan stopped just behind her.
“Charlie,” he said low.
She turned, eyes colliding with his—heat, tension, something fierce flashing between them. The man beside her hesitated, suddenly unsure.
Rowan didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.
“I’ll take it from here.”
“What the s**t?” Charlie exclaimed, words slurring just enough to give her away as she yanked her hand back. “Rowan—are you serious right now?”
The man she’d been dancing with took one look at Rowan’s expression and wisely stepped away.
Rowan didn’t touch her. Didn’t raise his voice. But his eyes burned into hers.
She scoffed, planting her hands on her hips. “I was dancing. Having fun. You don’t get to just—” she gestured vaguely between them, champagne confidence flaring, “—claim the dance floor.”
A muscle jumped in Rowan’s jaw. “I know.”
“Do you?” she shot back, tilting her head, annoyed and flushed and far too aware of how close he was. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”
Around them, the music thumped on, the party oblivious—but the space between Charlie and Rowan felt tight, electric, seconds away from snapping.
Before she could stop herself, the words spilled out.
“Why don’t you go have a shot with Tammy t**s and let me be,” Charlie snapped, chin lifting in challenge as she turned away from him.
Rowan’s hand caught her wrist—firm, not rough—stopping her mid-step.
The music pounded around them, but his voice was quiet, edged with something dangerous. “Don’t.”
She spun back, eyes blazing. “Don’t what? Call it like I saw it?”
His jaw clenched.
“Oh, please,” she scoffed, yanking her hand free. “You wouldn’t drink with me, but you’ll knock back shots with her?”
That landed.
Rowan leaned in, close enough that only she could hear him. “I took the shot because I was already losing control watching you. I was trying to stop myself from doing exactly this.”
Her breath hitched despite her anger.
“Walking over and dragging you away from another man,” he continued, voice low and raw. “Which I failed at, clearly.”
For a second, neither of them moved. The heat between them crackled—anger tangled with want, pride colliding with something far more dangerous.
Then Charlie shook her head, pulse racing. “You don’t get to decide things for me.”
His eyes softened—just a fraction. “I know. But don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too.”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t answer. The words tangled somewhere between pride and champagne, so instead she pouted—full bottom lip, brows drawn together like she was daring him to laugh.
Rowan did.
A slow, helpless smile spread across his face. “Please don’t be angry,” he said, clearly amused now. “I genuinely can’t take you seriously when you’ve got a p***s swinging from your neck.”
Charlie looked down at the necklace, then back up at him. “It’s festive,” she muttered, swaying just a little.
His smile softened, eyes warm but very much in control. He reached out—not to grab, just to curl his fingers lightly around hers.
“Dance with me,” Rowan said.
She hesitated for half a second. Then, tipsy and smiling despite herself, she let him pull her back into the music.
When his hand touched her bare back, it was electric.
Charlie inhaled sharply, the contact sending a shiver straight through her—heat blooming where his palm rested, steady and sure. Rowan felt it too; his fingers flexed just slightly, like he was grounding himself, keeping control even as the music rolled over them.
“You feel that,” he murmured near her ear, not a question.
She nodded, cheeks warm, body swaying easily against his. For the first time all night, the noise faded—and it was just the two of them, moving together, sparks snapping quietly in the dark.
Rowan drew her closer, guiding her easily, like he already knew exactly how she moved. His hand stayed firm at her lower back—warm, grounding—while the other held her hand loosely, letting her sway into him instead of pulling.
Charlie laughed softly, breathy, tipping her head back just enough to look up at him. “You’re very bossy for someone who just insulted my accessories.”
His mouth twitched. “I warned you. The necklace undermines your authority.”
She rolled her eyes, then melted right back into him anyway, hips moving in time with his. The control he had was effortless—not restrictive, just steady. Safe. Dangerous in the best way.
“You good?” he asked quietly, close to her ear again.
She nodded, resting her forehead briefly against his chest. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Just… feeling hot.”
Rowan smiled, slow and knowing, and kept dancing with her—anchoring her there, in the music, in the moment—like he had nowhere else he needed to be.
The music slowed, deepened—heavy bass, close heat.
Rowan’s hand pressed more firmly at her back, thumb brushing just enough to make her breath hitch. Charlie fit against him without thinking, the space between them gone, her pulse loud in her ears. Every sway felt deliberate now. Intimate.
“You’re wound tight,” he murmured, voice low, controlled, right at her ear. “Champagne brave.”
She smiled, eyes fluttering. “And you’re watching me like you’re deciding something dangerous.”
His breath ghosted over her skin. “I decided the second I saw you.”
That did it.
Charlie’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt, grounding herself, tipping her head slightly so her lips were close—too close. Not touching. Almost.
Rowan stilled her with a subtle shift of his body, dominance quiet but absolute. “Easy,” he said softly. “Stay with me.”
Her heart thundered.
She nodded, letting him lead again, letting the intensity build instead of break—both of them balanced right on the edge, the night holding its breath around them.
Mia appeared out of nowhere, breathless and wide-eyed, grabbing Charlie’s arm.
“Okay—hi—sorry to ruin whatever this is,” she said, gesturing wildly between Charlie and Rowan, “but Anna and Chloe are absolutely smashed. Like… Chloe just tried to tip a waiter with her coaster.”
Charlie blinked, pulling back slightly. “What?”
“And,” Mia added, lowering her voice like this was the real crisis, “where the hell is the limo?”
Charlie groaned, rubbing her face. “It was supposed to be waiting out front.”
Rowan straightened instantly, all warmth snapping back into sharp focus. “I’ll sort it,” he said calmly, already walking towards Caleb and Asher.
Mia looked him up and down, then smirked. “Wow. Eyebrows and competence. Love that.”
Charlie snorted despite herself.
Rowan shot Charlie a look—amused, reassuring. “Go wrangle your girls. I’ll get you home.”
And just like that, the intensity shifted—still there, simmering—but now wrapped in something steadier, as chaos reclaimed the night.
Rowan didn’t hesitate.
“My car, and Caleb’s,” he said, already moving with quiet authority.
Relief washed over Charlie. “Are you sure?”
His gaze softened when it met hers. “Absolutely.”
Outside, two cars were waiting, engines idling. Rowan took charge smoothly—opening doors, guiding the unsteady girls with patience and an ease that suggested this wasn’t his first time managing chaos.
Anna was giggling uncontrollably, tiara crooked, leaning heavily on Caleb as he helped her into one car. Chloe was no better, insisting she was “perfectly sober” while nearly walking into a bollard. Mia filmed everything, of course.
Rowan lingered by Charlie’s side as the doors closed. “You riding with me,” he said—not a question, but gentle enough that she didn’t bristle.
She nodded, heart still humming from the dance floor.
As the cars pulled away toward the hotel, the night finally slowed—laughter drifting between vehicles, the city lights blurring past—Charlie couldn’t help but think that somehow, despite the chaos, everything had ended up exactly where it was meant to be.
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