Chapter 3
1030 Words
Chapter 3
Elara spent the rest of the day pretending she was unaffected.
She answered emails with steady fingers, nodded through conversations, even laughed when someone cracked a joke near the coffee machine. On the outside, nothing had changed. Inside, everything felt off balance, like a glass filled just a little too close to the edge.
Rowan Blackwood was here. Not a stranger. Not a one night mistake neatly boxed and forgotten. He was real. Present. And now threaded into her daily life.
She hated that her body still remembered him.
When evening came, she left the office later than usual, hoping the building would be quiet. The elevator ride down felt endless. Each floor passing only gave her more time to think, which was the last thing she needed.
The doors opened in the underground parking lot.
Rowan was leaning against a black car, jacket slung over his shoulder, phone in hand. He looked up the moment he saw her, as if he had been waiting.
Her steps slowed despite herself.
“This is getting ridiculous,” she said flatly when she reached him.
“Good evening to you too,” he replied, unbothered.
“What do you want, Rowan.”
He straightened, slipping his phone away. “A conversation. One without an audience.”
“We already had one,” she said. “At the hotel. And another at work. Both are finished.”
He studied her, eyes dark and unreadable. “You’re very good at convincing yourself of that.”
Her patience snapped. “You don’t get to analyze me.”
“I get to notice,” he said calmly. “And I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me all day.”
“I’ve been working.”
“So have I.”
Silence settled between them, thick with everything unsaid.
Elara exhaled sharply. “This was a mistake.”
Rowan tilted his head. “Last night or right now.”
“Both.”
“Then why are you still standing here.”
She opened her mouth and found no answer.
That alone infuriated her.
“I don’t mix my personal life with work,” she said finally.
“Neither do I,” he replied. “Which is why I’m asking you out.”
Her eyes widened slightly before she caught herself. “No.”
“Dinner,” he clarified. “Public. Neutral. No expectations.”
“No,” she repeated, firmer.
He did not argue. That surprised her more than if he had pushed.
“All right,” he said. “Then coffee. Fifteen minutes. You can walk away after.”
She scoffed. “You’re persistent.”
“I’m patient.”
That word landed too close to something sensitive.
Elara looked away, jaw clenched. She hated how calm he was. How unthreatened. Men usually tried to dominate or impress. Rowan did neither. He waited, as if confident the outcome would bend in his favor eventually.
“I don’t do attachments,” she said quietly.
“I’m not asking for one,” he replied. “Not yet.”
Her heart skipped in a way she did not like.
She met his gaze again. “You’re dangerous.”
His lips curved faintly. “So I’ve been told.”
She should have walked away.
Instead, she said, “Coffee. Fifteen minutes.”
Rowan smiled fully this time. Not triumphant. Just satisfied.
The café was dim and mostly empty, soft music playing in the background. Elara chose a table near the window, putting physical space between them. Rowan respected it, sitting opposite her without comment.
They ordered. Black coffee for both.
“So,” she said once the cups arrived. “Say what you want to say.”
Rowan wrapped his hands around his cup, eyes never leaving her face. “You fascinate me.”
She snorted. “That’s your opening line.”
“No,” he said. “That’s the truth.”
She shifted in her seat. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you keep people at arm’s length,” he said. “That you leave before things turn complicated. And that whatever happened to you taught you that control is safer than connection.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup.
“Stop,” she said softly.
He did.
Immediately.
“I’m not here to pry,” Rowan said. “I just want honesty. Last night meant something. Even if you pretend it didn’t.”
Elara swallowed. The problem was that it had. Not love. Not romance. Something quieter and more unsettling. Comfort. Recognition.
She hated that more than desire.
“It was physical,” she said. “That’s all I allow.”
“And if someone wants more,” he asked.
“Then I leave.”
Rowan nodded slowly. “And if someone refuses to let you run.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Then they get hurt.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I don’t intend to hurt you.”
“Everyone says that.”
He leaned back slightly, giving her space. “Then let me be the one who proves it.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You think you’re different.”
“I know I am.”
Arrogant. Honest. Dangerous combination.
Their eyes locked, tension coiling tight between them. For a moment, the café faded away. There was only the pull. The memory of hands and heat and the way he had looked at her like she was not something fragile to be handled carefully, but something powerful to be respected.
Elara stood abruptly. “Time’s up.”
Rowan rose as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” she warned.
“Maybe not today,” he said. “But it will.”
She left before he could say more.
That night, Elara lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her apartment felt too quiet. Too empty.
She replayed his words, his patience, his certainty.
For the first time in years, the walls she had built felt less like protection and more like a cage.
And somewhere deep inside her, a dangerous thought took root.
What if running was no longer enough.
- Writer
