Damian's gaze landed on his boss, who seated at the bar counter with one elbow resting on the polished surface.
A small glass of golden Amber Pearl sat in front of him as he rubbed his temple, trying to quiet his thoughts.
Damian's attention shifted back to Kane, who was on the line.
"He's still in a meeting," Damian replied evenly, his tone unreadable.
Rowan had told him that if his father called, he should simply drop the call. There was no need for them to know where he had gone. He's thirty, not a kid.
But the one calling now was Kane, and Damian worried Kane might be calling under Albert's or Theo's instructions.
So he simply said they were in a meeting.
"What meeting? Don't lie," Theodore's voice suddenly cut in.
Damian stiffened, startled at the sound, but relieved he hadn't said anything real. He ended the call without another word.
Someone approached Damian from behind and tapped his shoulder.
"What's going on with your boss? I've never seen him this restless," Marcus Soren said, gesturing with his chin at his friend who sat at the counter, lost in his own thoughts.
There was no way Damian would tell them. Rowan would choke him out if he took the wrong steps.
He simply replied, "You may want to ask him directly, Mr. Soren."
Marcus leaned back a little, giving Damian a quick once-over as if trying to read him.
"You're just like your boss. If he'd answer me, I wouldn't be asking you," Marcus muttered under his breath before walking straight to the bar counter.
He chose to sit beside Enzo Lowell, their friend who was sitting next to Rowan. Marcus nudged Enzo as he lowered himself into the seat.
In a low voice, he asked, "What's up with him?"
"Don't know, but I heard him mention a woman's name," Enzo whispered back, one hand half-covering his mouth so Rowan wouldn't hear.
Marcus's eyes widened, then narrowed, and he shot Enzo a sideways glance.
"I don't buy it. He's not a woman-chaser like you," Marcus said as he took a sip.
Enzo didn't bother reacting. "Believe it or not, I heard it. The name ended with something like… 'raa.'"
"What? Sara? That girl?" Marcus shot up.
Enzo nodded. "Yeah, I think it was her. Sara."
Marcus scratched his head. Of all the women out there—Rowan and Sara?
He shook his head. "No way. I'll not let it happen."
Marcus rose from his seat and walked around to Rowan's other side. He sat down.
"Hey," Marcus leaned in closer.
Rowan took a sip, set the glass down with a thud, and turned toward him. "What?" he asked.
"A piece of advice from a good friend. Whatever the thing is with Sara, you'd better stay away from her. She's not a good woman," Marcus said, straight to the point, offering the advice with genuine concern for his friend.
Rowan looked puzzled. "Sara? Why on earth Sara?"
He shooed Marcus away with a flick of his hand. But then another thought smacked him in the head.
Marcus was a married man. So maybe he actually knew things.
"Marcus, you've been married three years, right? Has anyone ever tried flirting with your wife? And if they did… what did you do?"
Marcus froze, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. This man who never believed in marriage was suddenly asking about it.
But no way would he tell the truth. He didn't approve of anything between Rowan and Sara.
Marcus shook his head and said firmly, "I'm not giving you advice if your plan is to make up with Sara."
Rowan let out a slow, frustrated breath. Marcus had completely misunderstood him.
"Not Sara. I don't even know any Sara!" he groaned.
Marcus looked puzzled. "But Enzo said you mentioned her name." He pointed toward the other side, at Enzo.
Enzo whistled as he raised his hand. "I didn't say anything."
Marcus gave him a deadpan seriously? look. Then he turned back to Rowan.
"So why are you suddenly asking about marriage? Didn't know that topic could even survive in your brain," Marcus shot back.
"Because I'm like you," Rowan answered casually. "I'm already married."
Enzo and Marcus froze on the spot, like their brains had just blue-screened.
Enzo was the first to snap out of the shock, bursting into laughter. He said he didn't believe a word of it.
Marcus, on the other hand, stayed frozen.
Rowan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red booklet with gold-stamped lettering that read Marriage. He slammed it down in front of Marcus.
Enzo immediately jumped up from his seat and joined Marcus, both of them crowding over the booklet.
Marcus slowly picked it up and opened it. Inside was a picture of Rowan and a young beautiful woman.
When he read the name Lyra, Marcus shot Enzo an annoyed side glance.
Enzo immediately pointed at the marriage date, clearly trying to change the topic.
They looked at the date. Newly married. Confirmed.
Marcus and Enzo burst into cheers, congratulating him with way too much excitement. Rowan just sat there, feeling annoyed with the two of them.
Then Marcus cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to the question Rowan had asked earlier.
"So, you want advice from an expert?" Marcus adjusted his posture. "Alright, listen."
He leaned in and whispered, "Tame her."
Rowan frowned. "How?"
"Use your body. Your touch. Once she feels that, she won't even remember other men," Marcus said, lifting his brows.
Rowan felt the advice was useless. His wife was in the hospital. He didn't bother responding and stayed quiet instead.
After spending some time at the bar with his friends, Rowan returned to his hotel room. He tied up a bit of work for the final day of the conference, took a shower, and got ready for bed.
He had absolutely no intention of visiting Lyra at the hospital. His pride stood too tall between them.
And yet… he couldn't shake the irritation burning in his chest.
The sight of that young doctor near her twist something sharp inside him.
They looked so perfectly matched. Same age. Same career. Same world.
Ever since what happened recently, a quiet fear had been gnawing at him fear that Lyra might slip out of his hands before he even understood why he wanted to hold on.
He kept acting like it didn't matter, like her feelings didn't affect him.
But the more he pretended, the worse the ache became.
Rowan pressed a pillow over his face, trying to smother his thoughts.
He tossed and turned until the sheets twisted around him, sleep refusing to come.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Finally, he gave up. He changed into a T-shirt and track pants, grabbed keys, and headed out.
Moments later, he was already on the road, drove to Chavan Private Hospital.
…
"Patient Lyra Ashford has been discharged, sir," the nurse at the counter informed him.
Rowan didn't leave, so she asked, "Can I help with anything else?"
Rowan tapped his fingers on the counter, trying to steady himself before asking, "Who she went home with?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure who was with her."