The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 139

***Rowan***

They thought this room was designed to break people.

They hadn’t realized who they put inside it.

I sit back in the metal chair, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, hands folded loosely in my lap. Relaxed posture. Controlled breathing. Bored expression.

The two detectives across from me are not relaxed.

Good.

One of them, Harris, is younger. Impatient. Too eager to prove he isn’t intimidated by money, power, or the name Ashcroft. The other, Rhodes, is older and smarter, which means he is far more irritating because he knows exactly how dangerous this situation is and keeps pretending it’s routine.

Rhodes opens the folder in front of him and studies the first page like he doesn’t already have his questions prepared. “Mr. Ashcroft, we need to clarify your connection to Detective Calder.”

“My connection is simple,” I say. “He assaulted my wife.”

Harris’s jaw tightens. “Before she was your wife.”

My eyes move to him slowly. “Careful.”

Rhodes clears his throat. “Detective Calder was found dead tonight. Shot in the back of the head. Execution style.”

“I’m aware.”

“You don’t seem upset.”

“I wasn’t fond of him.”

Harris leans forward. “That supposed to be funny?”

“No,” I say calmly. “It’s supposed to be accurate.”

Rhodes watches me for a long second. “You had motive.”

“Yes.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer they expected.

Harris blinks. Rhodes’s pen stills.

I lean back a little more, letting the silence stretch just enough to irritate them. “You want me to deny the obvious? Fine. I wanted Calder removed from Violet’s life. Permanently, if necessary. But dead?” I tilt my head. “Dead makes him useless.”

Rhodes’s expression shifts slightly.

There. Finally. Someone with a working brain.

“You believe someone silenced him,” Rhodes says.

“I know someone silenced him.”

Harris scoffs. “Convenient theory.”

“No,” I reply. “Convenient would be your department pretending Calder was a good man until the body count became inconvenient.”

Harris pushes back from the table slightly. “You think you can walk in here and insult this department?”

“I didn’t walk in here,” I remind him. “You brought me here in an unmarked vehicle before counsel arrived, which tells me one of two things. Either you’re incompetent, or someone told you to move quickly before Devin Hale could stop you.”

Rhodes’s eyes narrow. Harris says nothing.

Interesting.

I continue, voice even. “Calder was tied to a corruption network involving Councilwoman Hargrove, altered permits, bribery, dead confidential informants, and at least one prior incident in another jurisdiction that should have prevented him from ever carrying a badge again.”

Harris gives me a hard smile. “You seem to know a lot.”

“I pay attention.”

“You pay people.”

“Yes,” I say simply. “Usually to do what your department should have done for free.”

Harris stands so fast his chair scrapes the floor.

I don’t move. Not even when his hands plant on the table.

“You want to keep talking like that?”

I look up at him, expressionless. “Sit down before you embarrass yourself further.”

His face reddens.

Rhodes cuts in before Harris does something stupid. “Sit down.”

Harris doesn’t look away from me for another second. Then he sits.

Good boy.

Rhodes folds his hands over the file. “Let’s talk timeline. Calder’s estimated time of death is still preliminary, but it appears to fall within a window where you had access to transportation and personnel.”

“I also had witnesses.”

“Your wife.”

“My wife. Devin Hale. Theo Ashcroft. Camille. A judge. A clerk. Two retail managers. Security downstairs. Building cameras. Courthouse cameras. Vehicle GPS. Credit card logs.” I pause. “Would you like me to keep going, or is your theory sufficiently dead?”

Harris mutters, “People with money can make evidence disappear.”

I smile faintly. “Yes. Which is why whoever killed Calder did it near the docks, near where Violet’s brother was found, in a way that points cleanly toward motive. Too cleanly.”

Rhodes studies me again.

He is listening now.

Finally.

“This was staged,” I say. “Calder wasn’t killed because someone wanted him punished. He was killed because someone was afraid he would talk.”

“And you know this how?” Rhodes asks.

“Because killing him helps everyone except me.”

The room goes quiet.

I let it.

Then I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table.

“You’re not investigating a murder,” I say calmly. “You’re looking for someone convenient to blame before the rest of this department starts bleeding secrets.”

The door opens before either detective can answer.

Marcus Vale steps in.

No knock. No apology. No wasted movement.

His gaze moves from Harris standing half out of his chair, to Rhodes’s tight expression, then to me.

He sighs. “Of course.”

Harris turns. “Agent Vale, we’re in the middle of an interview.”

“No,” Marcus says. “You’re in the middle of making my job harder. Step out.”

Harris stiffens. “This is our case.”

Marcus looks at him.

Nothing else.

Just looks.

Harris shuts his mouth.

Rhodes rises first, smarter than his partner. “We’ll be outside.”

“Good,” Marcus says.

The door shuts behind them.

For the first time since I entered this room, the air changes.

Marcus walks to the opposite side of the table but doesn’t sit. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I was being cooperative.”

“You were baiting Harris into a coronary.”

“He made it easy.”

Marcus exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “This is bigger than you think.”

“No, it isn’t.”

His eyes sharpen. “Yes, Rowan. It is.”

I stand slowly.

He doesn’t move.

Good.

We’ve known each other too long for posturing to mean much, but we both do it anyway.

“Whoever killed Calder knew exactly how to make you look guilty,” Marcus says. “They knew about Violet. Drew. The docks. Your motive. Your temper. Your reach.”

“My temper is controlled.”

Marcus’s mouth tightens. “Your attachment to her isn’t.”

That word settles between us.

Attachment.

Like Violet is a weakness.

Like she is something that can be removed, leveraged, exploited.

My voice drops. “Don’t.”

Marcus holds my stare. “You’re not thinking cleanly.”

“No,” I say. “I’m thinking precisely.”

“You married her today.”

“Yes.”

“You moved her into a secured property.”

“Yes.”

“You escalated a corruption investigation to federal level, fired your security team, relocated your entire group, and threatened half the local power structure in less than twenty-four hours.”

I pause. “Your point?”

“My point,” Marcus says, stepping closer, “is that every move you make right now is personal.”

I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “That doesn’t make it wrong.”

“It makes it predictable.”

That bothers me.

Not visibly.

Never visibly.

But it lands.

Predictable means vulnerable.

Predictable means someone can plan around me.

Predictable means Violet can be used to move me.

Marcus sees the flicker. He always was annoyingly good at that.

“There it is,” he says quietly. “You know I’m right.”

“You’re right that they used her.”

“And they’ll keep using her if you react every time they touch the board.”

Something cold slides through my chest.

I step closer, voice quiet. “If anyone touches her again, the board won’t matter.”

Marcus stares at me for a long moment.

Then his expression shifts.

Not softer.

More serious.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I don’t care what worries you.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.”

He lets out a hard breath. “Damn it, Rowan. I’m trying to keep you out of a cell long enough to take down the people who actually did this.”

“Then stop treating me like a suspect.”

“You are a suspect.”

My jaw tightens.

“Legally,” he adds. “Temporarily. Procedurally. Don’t make it permanent by acting like an arrogant bastard.”

“I am an arrogant bastard.”

“Yes,” he says flatly. “But usually a strategic one.”