Chapter 2

Rowan Chapman sat in a bar. He checked the time and got up to leave when he saw he'd been around long enough.

Eugene Bolton was surprised. "It's only 9:00 pm! Are you leaving already?"

"There's nothing to do here."

"What are you talking about? Look at all the beauties around us—isn't this much better than working the night shift at the hospital?"

Eugene got up and threw an arm around Rowan's shoulders. He pointed at the young men and women writhing on the dance floor. "Look at them enjoying themselves. Aren't you jealous of them?"

Rowan didn't even spare the dance floor a glance. He shot a look at the arm around him and said coldly, "Let go of me."

Eugene was a little scared to see his stoic face, but forced himself to stick it out. Rowan was the face of their department—none of them would be able to hit on other women if not for him being around to attract them.

Eugene pleaded pitifully, "I'm already 27, Ro. My mom told me that she'll take back the place I'm currently staying at if I don't bring a girlfriend home this year. You're not cruel enough to watch me get kicked out, are you?"

"Exactly! I'm not getting any younger either, Ro! If I don't bring a girlfriend home this year, my mom won't even let me into the house during the holidays!"

"I want to get a girlfriend, too. Ro, stay for a while longer!"

The other men pleaded with Rowan, making him frown.

Eugene forged ahead. "I'm doing this for your good, Ro. You're a year older than me—your mom must want to have a grandchild soon, too!"

He knew what their parents wanted—carrying the line was important to the older generation. His parents had scrimped and saved, even selling a house in the countryside to scrape together enough money to buy him a place in Berdon City. It was about 1,000 square feet with three rooms.

Even now, his parents still had a huge mortgage hanging over them, and he couldn't shake the guilt of how much they had given up for him. As such, he felt the urgency to settle down quickly with someone he could truly connect with and step into the next phase of life.

"All I want to do now is head home and sleep," Rowan said. That was the one thing doctors could never get enough of.

Eugene agreed, but he still said, "We're all men here, Ro. I don't believe for a second that you're completely uninterested in women! You're an eligible bachelor and handsome to boot, so you must have high standards. Anyone worthy of you has to be pretty and classy, right?"

If a man wasn't interested in hot or cute women, then he had to be interested in those who carried themselves well. Those weren't that easy to find, though, especially in a place like a bar.

Eugene scanned the area before exclaiming, "Look at that masterpiece!"

The admiration and surprise in his gaze were genuine. Rowan glanced in the direction he was looking, and he froze when his gaze landed on the woman Eugene was staring at. His brows furrowed.

…

Rosalie didn't know how much she'd drunk. She wasn't good at holding her alcohol, yet her mind remained lucid despite all the liquor she'd plied herself with. She was so clear-headed that she could still remember everything Simon had said.

The person she liked had gotten together with her best friend. Was there anyone in a more pathetic situation than her?

It was her 22nd birthday, for God's sake. How could they have done this to her?

The more she thought about it, the worse she felt. Tears streamed down her face.

Rosalie was already eye-catching because of her form-fitting dress, and her tears only made the men around her more tempted to hit on her.

People came to bars to let loose or have fun—it was common for them to hook up with others there.

A man with such intentions approached Rosalie to hit on her. She was drunk, but her guard was still up. Amid the deafening music and pulsing strobe lights of various colors, she put her glass down and stumbled to her feet, keeping a hand on the bar counter to steady herself.

She wanted to leave, but the man stopped her, refusing to let her slip away. He said, "Don't be in such a hurry to go, gorgeous! What's your name? Let's be friends."

"Get away from me!" she snapped.

"Come on, don't be so fierce. My heart aches for you, you know. I saw you sitting here, crying all by yourself. Did something bad happen? How about we get a room so you can tell me all about it? I can help take your mind off things," he said lewdly as he reached out to drag her away.

Rosalie was about to back away when a hand stretched out from behind her to quickly grab the man's hand before it could touch her.

"Who are you?" the man snarled.

Rosalie looked down at the hand and noticed the Patek Philippe watch on the wrist, where his veins protruded. She turned to see a familiar face.

The man wore a white shirt and black pants, and he stood tall with his back straight. His face was handsome, albeit emotionless—it was none other than Rowan.

"This chick caught my eye first, dude. Don't you know it's first come, first served?" The lewd man was a little scared when he saw Rowan, who was taller than him. He quickly turned and got backup.

Two fierce-looking men soon joined him. They rolled up their sleeves, looking like they were ready for a fight. The lewd man snarled, "This chick is ours! We won't go easy on you if you insist on stealing her from us!"

Rowan released Rosalie. She looked at the three men before her, then at Rowan, who was alone. She and Rowan weren't exactly on the best of terms, so she worried he would leave her to face the wolves. She hastily grabbed his arm and shouted, "This is my uncle!"

Rowan's gaze darkened, and he shot her an icy look.

She looked at him pitifully and tightened her grip on his arm.

"How dare you guys get funny ideas about Ro's niece! You're asking for trouble!" Eugene hurried over with two other colleagues to back Rowan up.

Now, it was four against three, and two of the men on Rowan's side were taller than the three nuisances. They soon scurried away in fear.

"I didn't expect you to have a niece who's already all grown up, Ro!" Eugene had gotten the numbers of some pretty ladies earlier, but none of them compared to Rosalie. Her beauty, grace, and presence were nothing short of breathtaking—she outshone even the most glamorous stars.

He quickly pulled out his phone, wanting to get her number. However, she let go of Rowan and turned to leave.

Rowan followed her, his expression dark.

…

Rosalie had definitely had too much to drink. She was seeing double.

When she learned Rowan had driven to the bar and was even offering to take her home, she didn't object. However, she didn't want to return to the Johnson or York residences.

She fussed over that, and Rowan decided to take her to a hotel to shut her up. He got her a room and carried her upstairs.

After putting her on the bed, he went to the bathroom and drew a cold bath. Then, he carried Rosalie into the bathroom and threw her into the tub without the slightest bit of hesitation.

Rosalie screamed from the sensation and struggled to clamber out of the bathtub. Her mind cleared a little as she clung to the side of the tub, and she glared at Rowan, who watched her imperiously. "What the hell is wrong with you, Rowan?"

"Who gave you the nerve to get yourself drunk in a bar like that, Rosalie?" He stood with his back to the light, but that didn't stop her from seeing the iciness in his expression.

This was what she hated most about him—how he always lectured her like he was her elder.