'Grandma, you're really something.'
Even her car was here, neatly parked at Arlington Penthouse—a clear proof of Agnes's determination to get her settled, no matter what.
But she didn't think she would use it much, though. The hospital was only a twenty-minute walk away, and she figured it would be a good chance to get some daily exercise.
Lyra followed Rowan up the sleek, glass-paneled entrance, the soft hum of the elevator fading behind them as they stepped out.
The penthouse door came into view—tall and majestic, framed in polished dark wood with a subtle golden inlay that caught the light.
Rowan pushed it open, and a delicate scent of fresh linen and faint cedar drifted out, as if welcoming her as the home's new mistress.
Rowan glanced around the penthouse, then at her. "Welcome home."
"Thank you," Lyra said.
He showed her around the house before leading her to the bedroom on the upper floor.
It was a quiet contrast to the bright living area. The soft aroma of sandalwood drifted through the room, filling it with a gentle, calming warmth.
"Is it to your taste? If not, you can redesign it however you like," Rowan asked.
"It's alright for me," she said, gazing around the room.
Her eyes landed on the floor-to-ceiling windows to the left. A small 'wow' escaped her lips as they revealed a stunning view of the city.
"Why don't you lie down for a bit before dinner?"
Rowan nodded toward the bed—the soft cream walls framing a king-sized expanse draped in crisp white linens, pillows neatly arranged at its sides.
He suggested she rest for a while, knowing she'd just been discharged and must be exhausted.
But her thoughts immediately snapped to her grandmother's scheme—on wanting a great-grandchild soon.
Lyra's throat tightened as a sudden, intimate image flashed through her mind, imagining what it would be like if they were alone on that bed—herself beneath him, trembling with desire.
Oh my God!
She couldn't believe herself. Her desire had become so wild lately.
Three years with Lucas Arden, and not a single erotic thought had crossed her mind—not that there weren't any before, but she could always control them.
Maybe it was because of that body… and it killed her to admit it. The muscled physique had stirred her desire to the point of overwhelming her. She gulped.
Suddenly, the phone buzzed loudly. Rowan's brow furrowed as he glanced at it.
"Yes," he said sharply, his tone clipped. "I'm coming."
"Lyra," he said quickly.
Lyra looked up. "Um?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "I've an urgent matter at the office…" She noticed the hesitation on his face—he clearly didn't want to leave her alone.
"It's okay. Go ahead," she said, offering a faint smile. She needed to calm down. Her cheeks burned, refusing to cool down.
"Sorry for leaving you alone."
He leaned down, the woody scent of his cologne brushing against her nose before his soft lips grazed her already warm cheek.
She froze.
Instinctively, her fingers brushed the spot, and her heart skipped a beat.
Rowan chuckled softly heading toward the door. "See you later, wife."
He winked at her and slowly closed the door.
…
Rowan sat at the far end of the conference table, his posture straight but his attention narrowed to the subtle rotation of the pen between his fingers.
The room was thick with tension, but the department head near the screen remained composed, as if unfazed by it.
"There has been a breach in our primary data system," she announced. Her voice was calm, but the message landed with weight. "The board is requesting a full status report by end of day."
Someone on the left side of the table leaned forward, disbelief cutting through his tone.
"A breach? With our security protocols? That system isn't exactly open-access. How did this happen?"
The question lingered, unanswered, as soft murmurs spread across the conference table.
Rowan didn't look up.
Damian cleared his throat. "Anyone from security team?" he called. At the far end of the table, a man with large glasses raised his hand.
"How bad is it?" Damian asked.
"We detected the breach and managed to contain it before it spread further."
Damian gave a brief nod. "Put the report on the screen."
Swiftly, he projected his laptop onto the large screen and began walking through the analysis.
"This pattern is… unusual," Damian said, turning to Rowan. "What do you make of it?"
Damian knew his boss was the kind of expert who could spot anomalies others would miss, of course. Rowan had spent his early years in military intelligence before transitioning to the corporate world, after all.
The room fell silent, everyone waiting for his response.
Rowan glanced at the wall clock. There was a hint of impatience in his expression.
Fine.
He wanted to go home early anyway—might as well end this quickly.
The security representative immediately rose from his seat, startled as Rowan approached. He moved aside, giving his boss full access to the laptop.
With practiced ease, Rowan's fingers moved as if he had done this a thousand times before. Lines of code and network logs flickered across the screen, the kind that would look like noise to anyone else.
But he could see the hidden traces left inside the system. Within moments, he isolated the source of the abnormality.
The security representative blinked, stunned. "Already…?"
He let out a breath and clapped softly, unable to hide his admiration. "Got it. We'll take it from here."