The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 132

***Violet***

Silence slams into the room.

Heavy.

Tense.

Devin shifts slightly, clearly realizing this is not his lane, while Rowan says nothing, but I can feel his attention locked onto me now. Watching. Measuring.

Theo exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Violet, it’s not that simple.”

“Actually,” I say, stepping closer, my grip tightening on the towel, “it is.”

His eyes flash with frustration. “You don’t know what’s going on—”

“I know enough,” I cut in. “I know she’s scared to tell you something because she thinks she’s just convenient to you.”

That hits.

I see it land.

Theo stills.

Just slightly.

“And I know,” I continue, softer now but no less firm, “that if you let her keep thinking that, you’re going to lose her.”

The words hang there.

Sharp. Real.

Unavoidable.

Theo’s expression shifts, something flickering behind his eyes now. Conflict. Guilt. Realization.

Good.

Because I’m not done.

“You’re over here playing strategy,” I gesture vaguely around the loft, “handling everything else like it’s life or death—”

“Because it is,” he mutters.

“And so is this,” I fire back immediately.

That shuts him up.

“Her feelings? That’s life or death too,” I say, my voice dropping just slightly. “You don’t get to ignore the person standing right in front of you because everything else feels bigger.”

Theo exhales slowly, tension rolling through him.

I take another step closer, my voice softening—but only slightly.

“Just because she walks around like she has the confidence of the sun,” I say, holding his gaze, “doesn’t mean she doesn’t need reassurance.”

That one lands differently.

Deeper.

“She’s a woman,” I continue, steady and unflinching. “And reassurance is something every woman needs—whether we want to admit it or not.”

Theo’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

Good.

“She needs you,” I say. “And right now? She feels like she’s a second thought. Like she’s somewhere behind all of this.” I gesture around us again, quieter this time. “Behind me. Behind Rowan. Behind everything.”

I swallow, then add, more honestly than I planned, “And while I appreciate what you’re doing—helping us, helping me—I value Camille more than my reputation.”

That shifts the air.

Even Rowan goes still behind me.

I don’t look at him.

I keep my eyes on Theo.

“Sorry, Rowan,” I add, not even turning around, “but reputations can be rebuilt.”

My voice softens, just barely.

“I can’t rebuild what I have with her. Not like this.”

The words settle.

Heavy.

Real.

Unavoidable.

Theo doesn’t move at first.

Doesn’t speak.

But I can see it.

The way everything clicks into place.

The way the weight of it finally hits him.

Behind me, I hear Rowan shift.

Feel him move.

Then suddenly, he’s there.

Close.

Too close.

His hand settles lightly at the small of my back, not pulling me away, not stopping me—just there. Grounding. Possessive.

A silent reminder.

Mine.

But he doesn’t interrupt.

Doesn’t interfere.

He lets me continue.

Which says more than anything else could.

Theo looks between us, then back at me.

And for the first time since I walked in—

He looks… unsure.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks finally.

I don’t hesitate.

“Go downstairs,” I say. “Look her in the eyes. And tell her exactly where she stands with you.”

His jaw tightens. “And if I don’t have the right words?”

“Then figure them out,” I say simply. “Because if you don’t, someone else eventually will.”

That one hits harder.

I see it.

Theo goes still for a second.

Then—

He nods.

Once.

Sharp. Decided.

And without another word, he turns and walks out.

Just like that.

Silence fills the loft again.

Devin lets out a quiet breath. “Well,” he mutters under his breath, “that was—”

“Enough,” Rowan says calmly.

Devin shuts up instantly.

And then—

Rowan’s attention shifts fully back to me.

His hand at my back tightens just slightly.

“Now,” he says, voice lower, quieter, but far more dangerous, “we’re going to talk about why my wife is standing in my office wearing nothing but a towel.”

My breath catches.

Because the anger?

Still there.

But something else curls underneath it now.

Something warmer.

Darker.

And I realize very quickly—

I might’ve just handled Theo.

But now…

I have to deal with Rowan.

“Sometimes,” I say, letting out a small breath, a faint, almost amused chuckle slipping through despite everything, “Theo needs that to understand how serious something is.”

I glance toward the stairs where he disappeared, then back at Rowan. “He doesn’t respond to soft. You have to hit him with it.”

Rowan doesn’t smile.

Doesn’t react the way I expect him to.

Instead, his jaw tightens slightly, his gaze dropping—not to my face.

To the towel.

To the way I’m holding it together.

To the skin still exposed.

And something in his expression shifts.

Not anger.

Not exactly.

Something darker.

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” he asks quietly.

I blink. “You’re not?”

His eyes lift back to mine, and there’s something sharp in them now. Focused. Possessive.

“No,” he says simply.

My brows pull together. “Then what—”

His hand moves.

Slow.

Deliberate.

He reaches up, fingers brushing the edge of the towel where it’s barely secured at my chest, adjusting it without asking, tightening the hold, making sure it doesn’t slip.

The touch is controlled.

Careful.

But it sends a sharp pulse through me anyway.

“You walked into a room,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “with two other men in it…”

His thumb presses lightly against the fabric, securing it in place.

“…wearing nothing but this.”

My breath catches.

Oh.

Oh.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” I ask, quieter now.

His gaze doesn’t leave mine.

“Yes.”

The word is simple.

Final.

Something flickers in my chest.

Confusion.

Heat.

Something I don’t want to name.

“They weren’t looking at me like that,” I say, though it comes out softer than I intended.

“I don’t care how they were looking at you,” Rowan replies immediately.

That edge is back.

Sharp.

Controlled.

“I care that they could.”

The words settle heavy between us.

His hand is still at my chest, still holding the towel in place, his fingers brushing just enough skin to make it impossible to ignore.

“You don’t walk around like that where other men can see you,” he continues, quieter now—but somehow more intense.

My pulse stutters.

“And why not?” I ask, because I need to hear him say it.

Need to understand what this is.

His eyes darken slightly.

“Because you’re my wife.”

My lips part slightly.

“That doesn’t mean you own me,” I say, but there’s no real bite behind it.

Not the way there should be.

His head tilts just slightly, studying me.

Then—

A faint smirk touches his mouth.

“No,” he agrees quietly.

His hand slides from my chest back down to my waist, fingers curling just slightly.

“It means I protect what’s mine.”

My stomach flips.

Hard.

“And right now,” he adds, his voice dropping just enough to send heat straight through me, “that includes making sure no one else gets to see you like this.”

My grip tightens on the towel.

Because suddenly—

I’m very aware of how close he is.

Of how exposed I still feel.

Of how much I don’t actually want him to step away.

“That doesn’t bother you?” I ask softly. “What I just did? With Theo?”

His gaze holds mine.

Steady.

Unshaken.

“No,” he says. A beat. “If anything…” His thumb brushes lightly against my hip. “…I liked it.”

My breath catches.

“You don’t hesitate,” he continues. “You see a problem, you handle it.”

His eyes flick briefly toward the stairs, then back to me.

“You’ll fit into my world just fine.”