Chapter 3

The elevator climbed higher than I thought possible, each floor marked by a soft chime that seemed to echo in my chest. When the doors finally opened, I stepped into a world I'd only seen in magazines.

Rowan's penthouse stretched out before me like something from a dream. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city lights twinkling below, while polished marble floors reflected the warm glow of crystal chandeliers. Everything was elegant, expensive, and utterly foreign to someone who'd spent her life in cramped apartments with peeling wallpaper.

"This is your home now," Rowan said, his voice carrying that same quiet authority that made my pulse quicken. He moved through the space with the confidence of a man who owned everything he touched, and I found myself following a few steps behind, afraid to disturb the perfection around me.

"I can't stay here," I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. "This is too much. I don't belong in a place like this."

Rowan turned to face me, and something flickered across his features—an expression I couldn't quite read. "You belong wherever I say you belong, Angelica. And right now, that's here, where you're safe."

The possessiveness in his tone should have frightened me, but instead it sent a warm shiver down my spine. No one had ever claimed me before, had ever wanted to protect me. The intensity of his dark eyes made me feel seen in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"I'm a businessman," he continued, settling into a leather chair that probably cost more than my father's rent. "I have resources, connections. People who owe me favors. Your father won't be able to hurt you anymore."

Businessman. The word felt carefully chosen, deliberately vague. I thought of the men in dark clothing, the professional way they'd handled my father, the deference they'd shown Rowan. But I was too grateful, too overwhelmed, to ask the questions that whispered at the edges of my mind.

"Why?" I asked instead. "Why would you do this for me?"

His gaze softened, and for a moment he looked almost vulnerable. "Because I failed your mother. I won't fail you."

The next morning, I woke in a bed softer than clouds, surrounded by silk sheets that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Sunlight streamed through windows I was still afraid to touch, casting everything in golden hues that made the previous night feel like a fever dream.

Rowan was waiting for me in the main room, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. Beside him stood several shopping bags from stores I'd only seen in movies.

"These are for you," he said simply.

I approached the bags hesitantly, as if they might disappear if I moved too quickly. Inside, I found clothes unlike anything I'd ever owned—silk blouses in jewel tones, tailored skirts that hugged curves I'd never known I had, dresses that whispered of sophistication and wealth.

"I can't accept these," I said, though my fingers lingered on the soft fabric of a midnight blue dress. "They're too expensive, too—"

"A woman of your beauty deserves to be dressed properly," Rowan interrupted, his voice brooking no argument. "You've hidden yourself in rags for too long."

The way he said 'beauty' made heat rise in my cheeks. I'd never thought of myself as beautiful—pretty, maybe, on good days, but nothing special. Certainly nothing worth this kind of attention from a man like him.

"Try them on," he said, and it was clearly an order disguised as a suggestion.

An hour later, I stood before a full-length mirror I was still getting used to, wearing a cream-colored blouse and a charcoal skirt that transformed me into someone I barely recognized. The clothes fit perfectly, as if they'd been made for my body specifically. The skirt emphasized the curve of my waist, while the blouse's silk fabric caught the light in ways that made my skin seem to glow.

"Better," Rowan said from behind me, and I jumped. I hadn't heard him approach. "Much better."

His reflection appeared in the mirror beside mine, and the contrast was striking—his dark sophistication against my newfound elegance. We looked like we belonged together, like we were cut from the same expensive cloth.

"I should go to school," I said, though part of me wanted to stay in this beautiful bubble forever.

"Of course. Education is important." His hand settled on my shoulder, warm and possessive. "But remember, Angelica—you're under my protection now. That means something."

Walking onto campus felt like entering a different world wearing someone else's skin. The clothes Rowan had chosen moved with me like a second skin, the silk blouse whispering against my arms, the skirt swaying with each step. I'd never felt so aware of my own body, of the way I carried myself.

The attention was immediate and overwhelming.

Jake Morrison, who'd sat behind me in chemistry for two years without saying a word, suddenly appeared at my elbow as I walked toward the library.

"Angelica?" His voice cracked slightly. "Wow, you look... different. Amazing. I mean, you always looked good, but—"

"Thank you," I said softly, unsure how to handle this new reality where boys actually noticed me.

More followed throughout the day. Marcus from my literature class, who'd never so much as glanced in my direction, offered to carry my books. David from the cafeteria asked if I wanted to study together. Even some of the popular boys, the ones who usually orbited around girls like Candy, seemed to see me for the first time.

It was intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted from the constant attention. As I walked toward the campus exit, I noticed Tyler Bennett approaching with a confidence that made my stomach clench. Tyler was known for not taking no for an answer, for pushing boundaries until girls gave in just to make him go away.

"Angelica," he said, falling into step beside me. "You're looking incredible today. New clothes?"

"Thank you," I replied politely, quickening my pace.

"I was thinking we could grab coffee sometime. Maybe tonight?" His hand brushed against my arm, and I pulled away instinctively.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I have plans."

"Come on," Tyler said, his smile becoming more aggressive. "Don't be like that. I'm being nice here."

"And I'm being polite," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "The answer is no."

Tyler's expression darkened. He grabbed my wrist, his grip tight enough to hurt. "Listen, I don't know what's gotten into you, but you're not too good for me. Especially not some scholarship girl who—"

"Is there a problem here?"

The voice was calm, professional, but there was something underneath it that made Tyler's face go pale. A man in a dark suit had appeared beside us, seemingly from nowhere. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of stillness that suggested violence held carefully in check.

Tyler's grip on my wrist loosened. "We were just talking—"

"The lady said no." The man's smile was polite and absolutely terrifying. "I suggest you respect that."

"Who the hell are you?" Tyler demanded, but his voice had lost its aggressive edge.

"Someone you don't want to disappoint." The man stepped closer, and Tyler actually took a step back. "Walk away. Now."

Tyler looked between us, clearly weighing his options. Whatever he saw in the stranger's face made the decision for him. He released my wrist entirely and backed away, muttering something under his breath about crazy people.

As Tyler disappeared into the crowd of students, the man in the suit turned to me with a slight nod.

"Are you all right, Miss Silverman?"

The fact that he knew my name shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. "Yes, thank you. But who—"

"Mr. Anderson wants to ensure your safety," he said simply. "Have a good day."

And then he was gone, melting back into the crowd as if he'd never been there at all.

I stood there for a moment, my heart racing, understanding flooding through me like cold water. Rowan hadn't just given me clothes and shelter. He'd given me protection, real protection, the kind that came with men in dark suits who appeared when I needed them most.

The realization should have frightened me. Instead, as I walked toward the car that was undoubtedly waiting to take me back to the penthouse, I felt something warm and dangerous unfurling in my chest.

For the first time in my life, someone was watching over me. Someone powerful enough to make bullies back down with a single word. Someone who saw me as worth protecting.

Someone who might, just possibly, see me as worth loving.