Chapter 6 - The Ghost from the Past
The afternoon sun cut through the heavy glass windows of the Mercer Estate’s private study, casting long, geometric shadows across the polished walnut floors. Mave stood by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, organizing a fresh delivery of architectural folios, her mind still lingering on the warmth of that spring morning in the courtyard.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the study flew open with a sharp, echoing slam.
Rowan stood in the threshold, his shoulders tense, his jaw locked in a hard line that spelled immediate danger. Behind him stepped a woman whose appearance struck a jarring contrast to the quiet elegance of the estate. Elena Vance. Her designer heels clicked aggressively against the wood, and her dark, predatory eyes darted around the room before locking onto Mave with undisguised venom.
"So, this is the little bakery girl who managed to tame the great Rowan Mercer," Elena sneered, her voice dripping with sharp, manufactured sweetness. "I expected someone with a bit more pedigree. Or at least someone who didn't smell like cheap flour."
Mave froze, a heavy leather-bound book slipping slightly in her grip. She looked from Elena to Rowan, whose face was a mask of cold, unyielding granite.
"Elena, you were warned never to show your face at my private residence uninvited," Rowan said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal register that sent a shiver down Mave's spine. "Your brother Victor made his choice six months ago. If you are here to finish what he started, I suggest you reconsider your exit strategy."
Elena laughed, a brittle, harsh sound that lacked any humor. "Victor was a fool, Rowan. He let sentimentality blind him. But the Marcone family doesn't forget, and we certainly don't forgive. And as for this little stray..." She took two swift steps toward Mave, her fingers digging into the strap of her leather handbag. "She thinks she’s safe inside this fortress. She thinks playing domestic goddess with a monster changes what you are."
Before Elena could take another step, Rowan moved with blinding speed. In a fraction of a second, he closed the distance between them, his hand gripping Elena’s arm just above the wrist with a force that made her gasp.
"You will not speak her name," Rowan whispered, his voice dangerously quiet, filled with a terrifying, absolute promise of violence. "You will walk out of these doors right now, and you will never, ever step foot on my property again. Consider this your first, last, and only warning."
Elena’s face paled beneath her heavy makeup. She glared at Rowan, then shot one final, murderous look at Mave before yanking her arm free and storming out of the study, the heavy doors slamming shut behind her in a thunderous echo.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Mave let out a shaky breath, setting the book down on the mahogany table.
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"She's right, you know," Mave said softly, refusing to look away from the empty doorway. "Your world doesn't just disappear because we pretend to play house in the sunlight. They are always going to come back."
Rowan walked over to her, his expression softening as he reached out to gently tilt her chin upward, forcing her to meet his intense, dark gaze. "Let them come," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Nothing—and no one—will ever touch you as long as I’m breathing."
