Chapter 4 - Mystery Woman

Rowan Lancaster's POV

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel suite, watching the sun break over the skyline. Below, the infinity pool shimmered in the morning light.

Behind me, my chief assistant delivered the morning briefing, his voice crisp and measured.

"Shareholder tensions continue, but they're manageable. Our acquisition of the South Ridge development is complete. The overseas board is requesting a video conference by the end of the week."

"Noted," I said, eyes still fixed on the skyline. "Make sure Legal prepares the updated compliance report before that call. I want no surprises."

"Will do, Sir. Oh, and regarding the Lancaster wedding... there's been a change," he added.

I turned slightly at that. "A change? Not the date, I hope. I’ve already had to rearrange half my calendar to make it work."

"It’s not about the date, Sir." He hesitated. "Your nephew, Mr. Tristan Lancaster, has switched brides. Victoria will be taking the place of her sister, Amelia Hartwell."

I frowned. "Switched brides like one would switch table linens. How charming."

I suppose something like this was inevitable.

“Tristan has a knack for turning even the simplest situations into chaos.”

My assistant wisely kept her mouth shut.

He really is just like his parents in every way.

Always entitled. Always short-sighted. He was practically their carbon copy.

The Lancaster name might have opened doors for him, but make no mistake—he stood in those rooms because of me.

“There’s no way I can get out of attending this circus, is there?” I asked, only half-joking. “We couldn’t suddenly schedule an emergency board meeting? A hostile takeover? Anything remotely important to clash with the wedding?”

My assistant didn’t so much as crack a smile.

“I’m afraid not, sir. Your father’s request was… unusually firm. He expects your presence, without exception.”

The mention of my father wiped the grin off my face.

Of course, I understood my father’s intentions.

Insisting on my attendance at the wedding had nothing to do with sentiment—

It was all about showcasing the family’s power

A complete waste of time.

"Honestly, the abandoned bride…Amelia, right?  might actually be the lucky one." I turned to my assistant. "At least she dodged a family built on pretense."

My gaze drifted back to the pool.

"Anything else?" I asked, my tone neutral.

My assistant shifted. "About last night, sir. The woman... our staff assumed it was a private arrangement…"

My voice cut through the room like a blade. "I don’t use women. You should know that by now."

The tension was immediate. The assistant flinched, bowing his head hurriedly. "I’m sorry, sir.

We’re already looking into how she gained access."

“And track down whoever slipped something into my drink at last night’s banquet.” I added.

Last night, I made it back to my room before the effects fully hit me.

But just outside, in the hallway—I saw her.

She’d appeared suddenly there, hair dripping, skin damp from the pool, unsteady on her feet. Wrapped in nothing but a towel, she had looked up at me with those wide, hazy eyes.

I had never felt so turned on. She ignited something in me no one else ever had. All rational thought vanished, and my primal instincts drove me to her.

Her lips had been warm, her skin impossibly soft. Her kiss—eager, dazed, unguarded—had drawn me in.

I moved toward her instinctively, pulling her into my arms. I had never seen her before, but damn it—

The moment I kissed her, I was hard.

I’d never tasted lips so sweet. The sensation was overwhelming, devouring my reason—even when she moaned someone else’s name, I didn’t stop.

If anything, it sparked something—anger?

My kiss deepened, more forceful, my teeth catching her tongue like a small punishment. She didn’t back down—bit my lip in return.

The sting lit a fire in me.

Gripping her hand, I led her toward my room. I knew exactly what was about to happen.

A carefully planned drug, a woman thrown into my arms—If it was all arranged, why should I show her mercy?

Just when I almost pulled her to the bed, I heard her whisper the name again. ”...Stan…”

It had snapped me out of the strange trance that had taken me over.

I had pulled away as disgust hit me like a wave. Not at her—but at the situation. At myself. At the sharp realization that I had come dangerously close to crossing a line I swore I never would. 

The thought made my stomach turn. I had behaved like a man I didn’t recognize. A man I refused to become.

The drug in my system had made it worse—heightened every sensation. Her smell, her beauty, her presence had lured me in. I’d lost all control over my actions.

But even under its influence, I hadn’t crossed the line.

 "What the hell did I do?" 

I quickly paced to my room, alone. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her again. Because even after taking a cold shower, I still felt something about her clung to me. 

Not just her beauty, or the incredible attraction between us—but the sadness behind her eyes. It was the kind of sorrow that runs deep and quiet. 

Who was she? Why was I drawn to her like that?

I turned back to my assistant.

"Find out who she was."

He nodded instantly, as if he had been waiting for the order. "Yes, Mr. Lancaster. I’ll have her identified ASAP."

"Good."

Because I needed answers.

And more than that—I needed to see her again.