Intercepted and Confronted

Rowan immersed himself in the mountain of morning paperwork waiting on his massive mahogany desk. The expansive 35th-floor corner office offered a sprawling view of the city skyline, but his sharp attention remained locked on the contracts in front of him. A sharp knock interrupted the quiet hum of the room. His assistant, Nolan, stepped through the heavy doors.

"Sir, I have the comprehensive background check on the missus," Nolan reported, standing at attention across the desk. "Her name is Sloane Kensington. She is the daughter of Vivienne and Arthur Kensington from the Kensington family. They own Summit Estates, dealing heavily in real estate, property development, and construction."

Rowan kept his eyes on the document in his hand, his pen moving in smooth strokes. "Go on."

"She is estranged from her family," Nolan continued. "They pushed for her to join the family business, but she refused and severed ties to forge her own path. She attended art college and currently works as a struggling artist, novelist, and screenwriter."

Rowan absorbed the information, processing the stark contrast between the wild woman who had gripped his cock the night before and the heiress running from her own legacy. "What has she been doing these past few days?"

"We tracked her whereabouts. Nothing suspicious. She has been locking herself inside her city apartment."

"Got it," Rowan said, setting his pen down. "If there is nothing else, get back to work."

Nolan turned to leave, his hand grasping the heavy metal door handle. He froze, looking back over his shoulder. "Mr. Lancaster, there is one more thing. Miss Kensington is leaving the country tomorrow morning. She is joining a remote film crew for one of her scripts. There is no return ticket on record."

The air in the office thickened. Rowan’s jaw tightened. A sudden spike of dark irritation washed over him. His possessive instincts flared, hot and demanding. The thought of his new wife slipping out of the country without a word, after opening her legs for him and then vanishing into the morning light, sparked a deep anger in his chest.

He rubbed his forehead, smoothing out the tension. He lifted his gaze, fixing Nolan with cold, unquestionable authority. "Get her to meet me. Bring her to me."

"Right away, sir," Nolan said, shutting the door behind him.

Miles away, oblivious to the corporate manhunt zeroing in on her coordinates, Sloane enjoyed a lazy morning inside her modest apartment. The previous night of intense sex had left her exhausted but strangely refreshed. She needed this quiet time to mentally prepare for the grueling, chaotic filming schedule waiting for her abroad.

She spent hours lounging on the couch, chewing on sweet candy and mindlessly watching reality television. By one in the afternoon, the need to finish packing finally pushed her off the cushions. She threw on some casual clothes and decided to run a few last-minute errands for travel-sized cosmetics before her flight.

The moment she stepped out of her apartment complex and onto the busy sidewalk, her peaceful day shattered.

A sleek black Mercedes S-Class pulled up to the curb, tires kissing the concrete. Before she could walk past it, the driver’s door popped open. Nolan stepped right into her path, his tailored business suit standing out against the casual neighborhood backdrop.

"Mrs. Lancaster," Nolan addressed her smoothly. "Mr. Lancaster would like to see you." He reached back and pulled the rear passenger door open.

A massive jolt of panic flared in Sloane’s chest. The crushing reality of her situation struck her like a physical blow. The drunken marriage, the impulsive ride to the chapel, the raw memory of Rowan’s penis driving deep inside her vagina over and over again—it was all real. She realized with terrifying clarity that she could not just outrun a billionaire after signing a marriage certificate and sharing his bed.

She swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile. "I have pressing matters to attend to right now. Errands. I will have to meet him another time." She tried to step around the open car door.

Nolan stepped sideways, blocking her escape route. He stood firm, his polite demeanor hardening into unyielding pressure. "I am afraid you will have to do your errands some other time, ma'am. Mr. Lancaster instructed me to bring you with me immediately. My lucrative job is on the line if you do not get into this car."

Sloane gritted her teeth. Anger bubbled up her throat, but she felt deeply cornered. The man was not going to let her leave. Swallowing her frustration, she ducked her head and climbed into the plush leather backseat of the waiting Mercedes.

Nolan shut the door, got behind the wheel, and merged into traffic. Sloane gripped her purse, bracing herself for the towering corporate headquarters of the Lancaster Group. Instead, Nolan navigated through the city center and pulled up in front of a highly exclusive, five-star luxury hotel.

Nolan escorted her through the opulent lobby and down a quiet, carpeted hallway. He stopped in front of a private dining room, knocked once, and pushed the heavy wooden door open. He gestured for her to step inside, then immediately closed the door behind her, leaving her alone.

Sloane took two hesitant steps forward and froze near the door.

Rowan sat at an elegant dining table, dressed impeccably in a crisp, black tailored suit without a single wrinkle. He projected an aura of cold, calculated indifference. For a long moment, Sloane just stood there, silently admiring his sharp jawline, his handsome facial features, and the firm lips that had kissed every inch of her naked body hours ago.

The heavy silence snapped when Rowan cleared his throat.

Gathering her fractured courage, Sloane gripped the strap of her purse. "You asked to see me?"

Rowan ignored the question. He stood up from the table, his tall frame dominating the space. He quickly closed the physical distance between them, trapping her near the doorway. He looked down at her, his eyes dark.

"We meet again, sweetheart," he murmured in a low, dangerous tone.

Before she could register the shift in his posture, he attacked her lips. He claimed her mouth in an aggressive, passionate kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. Startled by the sheer force of his sudden advance, Sloane stood frozen for a split second. The taste of him flooded her senses, but her survival instincts kicked in hard.

She planted her hands on his solid chest and shoved him away with all her physical might.

She stumbled back, wiping her mouth, feeling humiliated and furious. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Rowan?" she shouted, her voice echoing off the expensive wallpaper.

Rowan did not flinch. A dark, infuriating calm settled over his features. He released a slow half-smile. "You. You are what is wrong with me, sweetheart."

Deeply confused and emotionally raw, Sloane’s defenses crumbled. "What do you mean? You vanished into thin air after our night together! Do you have any idea how incredibly stupid, used, and abandoned I felt waking up to an empty bed?"

Hot tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her porcelain face. She didn't care that she was exposing her vulnerability. She had given him her body, let him fuck her until she was trembling and sore, only to wake up alone like a discarded one-night stand.

Rowan’s cold expression softened. The dangerous edge in his eyes melted into genuine frustration. He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a harsh rasp. "You are the one who ran away, sweetheart. You broke my heart."

Sloane blinked through her tears, stunning silence washing over her.

"I left the villa to buy a hot breakfast for my new wife," Rowan explained, his tone firm. "I came back with food, only to find the bed messy and the house empty. You made me angry."

He leaned down, aggressive blame shifting back into his posture. "And what about today? You were secretly planning to leave the country tomorrow morning without telling me. You were going to fly away without even a basic goodbye. How heartless can you be?"

The massive misunderstanding crashed over Sloane. The anger drained out of her, replaced by a deep, sinking wave of guilt. She had run away assuming she was just a drunken mistake to him. She wiped the tears off her cheeks, looking down at the carpet.

"I am sorry," she whispered, her voice sincere. "I jumped to conclusions."

She raised her head, looking up into his deep, intense eyes with genuine awe. The reality of his words spun in her mind. "Wait. What do you mean? Do you not regret it at all?"

"Regret what?" Rowan stated firmly, holding her gaze. "Marrying you? I do not regret it. I genuinely want to make this marriage work." He took another step forward, closing the tiny gap between them. "What about you? Do you regret it?"

Sloane hesitated. Her mind sank deep into contemplation about her future, her career, and the imposing billionaire standing in front of her. She searched his face for any sign of deception but found none.

As the silence stretched, Rowan’s large body visibly tensed. His broad shoulders went rigid. For a man who controlled everything, he seemed terrified of her impending answer. The suspense shattered his restraint.

Unable to bear the silence, he reached out, grabbed her waist, and pulled her flush against him. He crashed his mouth down onto hers in another bruising, deeply passionate kiss. This time, Sloane didn't fight him. Her defenses began to melt under the heat of his mouth. She let her hands slide up the lapels of his suit, ready to lose herself in his embrace.

Just as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss, Rowan abruptly stopped. He pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving against hers. He stared down at her with intense, desperate expectation, his dark eyes searching hers, waiting in absolute silence for her final verdict.