The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 128

***Violet***

The drive feels… different.

Quieter.

Not tense in the same way as before—but not calm either.

Like everything has shifted into something else entirely.

I sit in the backseat, Rowan beside me, his arm stretched along the seat behind me like it belongs there, like I belong there. Camille is pressed against my other side, scrolling on her phone but glancing at me every few seconds like she’s still checking that I haven’t disappeared.

Theo is up front, quieter than usual, and Devin drives like always—smooth, controlled, like nothing ever rattles him.

No one says much.

Not until we turn off the main road.

The city changes.

The buildings get taller.

Glass and steel.

Lights reflecting off everything, even in the late afternoon, casting sharp, clean lines across the streets. It’s louder here—traffic, horns, people—but somehow more… contained.

More controlled.

We pull down a sloped ramp tucked between two buildings, almost hidden if you’re not looking for it.

A gated entrance.

Private.

The gate doesn’t open right away.

There’s a pause.

Then a camera above us tilts slightly.

Scanning.

A voice crackles through a speaker. “Identify.”

Devin doesn’t hesitate. “Ashcroft.”

Another pause.

Then... The gate slides open.

We descend into the underground garage.

It’s nothing like a normal parking structure.

No flickering lights. No oil stains. No clutter.

Everything is clean.

Polished concrete floors. Bright overhead lighting. Clearly marked sections. Security cameras in every corner—visible and intentional.

There are only a handful of cars down here.

Expensive ones.

All spaced out like no one wants to risk even a door ding.

The SUV glides into a reserved section near a private elevator.

No signs.

No markings.

Just… understood.

“Welcome back,” Rowan says quietly beside me.

I glance at him.

“You haven’t been here in a while?”

“Not recently,” he replies. “But it’s maintained.”

Of course it is.

We step out of the car, and the air down here is cool, faintly smelling like clean concrete and something metallic. There’s no echo when the doors shut—everything is insulated, controlled.

Even the sound.

Theo stretches slightly as he steps out. “Damn. Forgot how nice this place is.”

Camille looks around, impressed. “This is just the garage?”

Rowan doesn’t answer.

He’s already moving.

We follow him to a secured door beside the elevator.

Keypad.

Scanner.

Two layers.

He punches in a code without hesitation.

The door unlocks with a soft click.

Inside, the elevator is private.

No buttons for public floors.

Just a panel.

Restricted access.

Devin presses a code.

The doors close smoothly.

As we rise, I can feel it in my ears—the quiet pressure of ascending quickly.

No music.

No chatter.

Just the low hum of the elevator.

The doors open.

And everything changes.

We step out into the main lobby... But it doesn’t feel like a lobby.

It feels like a hotel.

A private one.

Marble floors stretch out beneath us, polished to a mirror shine. The lighting is warm here, soft gold instead of harsh white. There’s a faint scent in the air—something clean but expensive, like cedar and citrus.

To the right, a sleek front desk.

To the left—

A man.

Tall.

Broad.

Still.

He stands near the entrance like he’s part of the building itself, dressed in a sharp black suit, posture perfect, eyes alert. He looks like he could’ve stepped out of a military lineup—controlled, observant, unshakable.

His gaze locks onto Rowan immediately. “Mr. Ashcroft.”

Rowan nods once. “Jackson.”

The man inclines his head slightly. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

Jackson’s eyes flick briefly to me.

Not lingering.

Not inappropriate.

Just assessing.

“Welcome back,” he says.

There’s something about the way he says it.

Like this place knows Rowan.

Like it’s been waiting.

We move past him, deeper into the building.

“This is yours?” I ask quietly.

Rowan glances at me. “Penthouse.”

Of course it is.

We pass through another set of doors—

And then... I stop.

“Wait…”

Because this—

This isn’t just a building.

It’s a world.

The second floor opens up into what looks like a private indoor street.

Soft lighting overhead, designed to mimic daylight. Clean tile flooring. Small storefronts lining both sides, each one polished, curated, intentional.

There’s a grocery store first.

Small—but stocked.

Fresh produce, neatly arranged. Shelves lined with essentials. No clutter. No chaos. Just enough.

Next—

A coffee shop.

Warm lighting spills out from inside, the scent hitting me instantly—rich espresso, vanilla, something sweet baking in the back. Soft music plays from inside, low and inviting, like it’s meant to pull you in and keep you there.

Camille exhales softly. “Okay… this is insane.”

Rowan continues walking like it’s nothing.

“There’s more,” he says.

And there is.

A restaurant sits just past the coffee shop, its doors open, soft chatter spilling out, the faint clink of silverware and glass. It looks upscale but relaxed, the kind of place you could sit for hours without being rushed.

A sign near the entrance reads:

**Open 24/7**

“You’re kidding,” I murmur.

“No,” Rowan replies simply.

Further down—

A clothing store.

Minimal.

Clean.

Neutral tones.

Basics.

Everything you’d need without excess.

“You don’t have to leave,” I say slowly.

That’s when he looks at me.

“That’s the point.”

Something about the way he says it—

Clicks.

“This was your backup,” I realize.

He nods once.

“I bought it after Theo and I moved out,” he says. “We stayed here through college. Built everything from here.”

Theo snorts softly. “Yeah, back when we were living off instant ramen and bad decisions.”

Rowan ignores him.

“I kept it,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “For situations like this.”

My chest tightens.

Because of course he did.

We move back toward the elevator.

Another private one.

As the doors close and we start ascending again, I glance at the panel.

Level 19.

But above it—

There are more.

Five more floors.

I frown slightly. “You’re not on the top floor?”

Rowan glances at me, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly. “I don’t need the top,” he says.

The elevator hums softly as we rise.

And something about that answer... Feels exactly like him.

Not needing to prove anything.

Just knowing he already has it.