The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 165

***Violet***

I barely sleep.

Honestly, I’m not even sure if what I did get counts as sleep or just temporary unconsciousness brought on by emotional exhaustion.

At some point during the night, Camille stopped talking beside me and curled up under the blankets while I stared at the ceiling replaying everything over and over in my head.

The emails. The photos. Drew. Calder. Hargrove. Avery. Every piece fitting together into something uglier than I originally imagined.

By the time morning finally comes, my body feels heavy. Numb almost.

The rain outside hasn’t stopped either. Water taps steadily against the penthouse windows while grey light filters through the curtains.

For a second, I just lay there staring at the ceiling. Then reality settles back in. Work. Media. The explosion. Ashcroft Industries.

I drag myself out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Camille, and head toward the bathroom.

The shower helps a little. Not emotionally. Nothing is fixing that right now. But physically at least the hot water helps loosen some of the tension locked inside my muscles.

By the time I step back out into the hallway wrapped in a towel, the penthouse is already awake.

I can hear movement downstairs. Voices. Coffee brewing. Phones ringing faintly somewhere in the loft.

The world continuing despite the fact that mine currently feels like it’s dangling over a cliff edge.

I walk straight into mine and Rowan’s bedroom without knocking. And immediately freeze slightly. Rowan is just stepping out of his own shower.

Water still drips slowly down his chest and across the sharp lines of his stomach while steam curls through the room around him.

Normally? *Normally* that sight alone would derail every coherent thought in my body.

Today though? I’m too emotionally exhausted to even process it properly. Still, my stomach flips anyway.

Because apparently my body hates me.

Rowan looks up immediately when I walk in. His expression hardens slightly the second our eyes meet.

Not angry exactly. Just intense. Careful.

Like he’s trying to figure out if I’m still furious enough to throw something at his head.

Neither of us says a word.

I walk past him silently toward the massive walk-in closet instead.

The stupid designer store boxes from yesterday are stacked neatly along the shelves where staff must’ve unpacked everything sometime yesterday evening.

I stare blankly at the clothes for a long moment before finally pulling one dress free.

Cream colored. Off-the-shoulder. Tight through the waist before falling to knee length. Elegant. Professional. Sharp enough to make me feel slightly more put together than I actually am.

I yank it on silently before pulling knee highs up my legs next. Then the matching cream-colored heels.

By the time I straighten again, Rowan is fully dressed behind me. Dark suit. Blue undertones hidden beneath charcoal fabric Blue tie perfectly straight. Not a single wrinkle anywhere.

Meanwhile I feel like a raccoon fighting for survival behind my eyes.

I reach automatically toward the shelf near the dresser and pause slightly when my fingers brush over the briefcase Rowan gave me weeks ago.

The one I still weirdly treasure. Because it was the first thing he ever gave me that felt personal. Intentional. Mine.

I pick it up immediately. Then yank on a petty coat over the dress because the rain outside looks absolutely miserable this morning.

When I finally turn around again, Rowan is watching me. Hard. His eyes drag slowly over every part of me before settling back onto my face.

Still no words. The silence between us feels thick now. Heavy. Not comfortable. Not hostile either. Just… fragile.

Like one wrong sentence might detonate everything.

Rowan follows quietly behind me as we head downstairs, still no talking at all.

Downstairs, Camille is already dressed.

And honestly?

She looks terrifying. Bright red pantsuit. Gold jewelry. Sharp makeup. Like a pregnant mob wife preparing to commit tax fraud.

Theo stands beside her wearing a dark charcoal suit that almost matches Rowan’s except Rowan’s carries more of a deep blue tint beneath the fabric.

Theo notices me first and immediately looks guilty again.

Good.

Even the elevator ride downstairs is silent.

The new security team Devin hired is already waiting near the garage entrance when we step out.

Four men this time. Armed. Alert. Professional. The explosion changed everything overnight.

We pile into the SUV together, and it’s honestly way too cramped for this much unresolved emotional damage.

Theo sits rigidly beside Camille. Rowan beside me. The tension inside the vehicle feels thick enough to choke on. Nobody speaks during the drive either.

Just rain hitting the windows while the city slowly comes alive around us.

By the time we finally pull up outside Ashcroft Industries, I immediately realize something is wrong.

There are people everywhere. Media vans. Cameras. Journalists.

Reporters crowding the front entrance like vultures circling roadkill.

“Oh my God,” Camille mutters, acting surprised like we both didn't know this was going to happen.

Flashbulbs immediately explode the second the SUV doors open. Questions start flying instantly.

“Mr. Ashcroft! Is the FBI investigating your company?”

“Is the explosion tied to the corruption investigation?”

“Did Detective Calder have connections to Ashcroft Industries?”

“Mrs. Ashcroft!”

Cameras immediately turn toward me too. I hate this already, but I know it's needed.

Security moves quickly around us while Rowan steps out first, his entire demeanor instantly shifting into cold corporate control. The version of him the public fears.

Theo moves beside Camille protectively while we start toward the building entrance. Questions slam toward us from every direction.

Rowan ignores every single one. Completely.

His face remains unreadable while flashes explode around us.

Then suddenly... “Mr. Ashcroft!” Leah Frank’s voice cuts sharply through the chaos.

Rowan doesn’t stop at first. Neither do any of us.

Then Leah raises her voice louder. “What about the environmental housing initiative your company proposed last year?”

Everything stops. Literally everything. Even some of the other reporters go quiet.

Confused murmurs ripple through the crowd instantly.

“The what?”

“Environmental housing?”

“What is she talking about?”

I glance toward Rowan sharply. And for the first time all morning... Something shifts in his expression. Surprise. Not much. Just enough for me to notice it.

Leah pushes forward slightly through the crowd, microphone raised. “Is it true Ashcroft Industries proposed a city-funded environmental housing initiative and rehabilitation employment program that was later stalled through permit interference?”

Several reporters immediately turn toward her now.

“What project?”

“Wait, was this public?”

“Why wasn’t this covered?”

The atmosphere changes instantly. You can feel it. Questions shifting.

Rowan slowly turns toward Leah fully now. “Yes,” he says evenly. “Ashcroft Industries has been developing sustainable transitional housing initiatives for over a year.” His eyes remain locked directly on Leah’s. “Including employment integration programs and environmental redevelopment plans designed specifically to reduce long-term homelessness within the city.”