Semua Bab His Beauty Her Beast: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Elena's POVI don’t know why I felt it.That faint shiver down my spine… the weight of something behind me. A presence.Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the way the cold air kissed the back of my neck… or the way my exhaustion was pulling at my senses, twisting them into shadows.But for a moment—just one—I swore someone was there.Watching me.Following me.I turned once, subtly, right before I rang the doorbell. The street was empty, still the way it always was at this hour. Nothing but flickering street lamps and the soft hum of the night.I shook my head and forced myself to focus.I was just tired.Too tired.The door buzzed open, and I stepped inside. The hallway of the building was dim and quiet, only the faint creak of the wooden stairs beneath my feet as I climbed to our floor.And when I opened the door to my apartment…I was met with silence.Not the comforting kind. Not the kind that wraps you in peace and rest.This silence was stiff. Cold. The kind of silence that

Rowan's POVWell, I think the exact moment I hired Elena Hart as my assistant might’ve been the moment my brain completely left my body.Because somehow, I—the CEO of Blackwood Corporation—found out about a high-profile industry gala four goddamn hours before it starts.Nice.Very professional.Greta had just muttered something about invitations and event reminders, but I wasn’t even listening. My eyes had already landed on Elena, who stood there blinking like a deer caught under stadium lights, clearly forgetting that half her job description included reminding me about things like this."Give her something from our collection," I said to Greta, my tone clipped.I didn’t even bother to look at Elena. I could feel her panic from across the room. Served her right.Greta nodded and left, tugging Elena along like a guilty schoolchild.The moment the door shut, I pulled my phone out and messaged her.Me: Send me pictures of the dresses. I’ll choose. Don’t tell her.Because, obviously, I c

Rowan's POVThe past week had been… uneventful, if I had to put it mildly. No explosions. No missed deadlines. No dramatic meltdowns from my assistant. Honestly, I didn’t know whether to be impressed or suspicious.Elena had been surprisingly punctual. Not once had I walked into the building and caught her running in, breathless, five minutes late with coffee stains on her notes. She was even ahead of schedule some days—an achievement that probably deserved a damn medal, considering the chaotic disaster she was when she first walked through my office door.I hadn’t had much time to poke and prod at her, not because I didn’t want to, but because I was neck-deep in upcoming project details. The Italy deal had gone through smoothly. The presentation she made last week for the board meeting actually turned out to be usable.Better than usable, if I was being honest—which I rarely am, especially to myself. Strategy meetings, financial planning, and correspondence consumed my schedule with

Rowan's POVEverything felt off today. From the moment I got up, I knew I wasn’t in my usual frame of mind.My suit felt tighter. My shoes are too stiff. Even the damn tie was irritating my neck.And for once, I didn’t give a shit.I checked my phone in the car, hoping for a message—maybe a follow-up from Elena—but saw nothing. She hadn’t replied to my text about the Volkov meeting.I didn’t hold it against her. At least, not this time. I knew my mind was too full to even start arguments. I had more pressing concerns.Dad. The thought hit like a brick to the chest.By the time I entered the office, the place had the usual buzz, but my focus was nonexistent. I barely registered the greetings from employees or the way the elevator chimed softly with each floor. My eyes had shadows under them, and I didn’t need a mirror to know how dead I looked.I walked straight into my office and collapsed onto the chair. Elena called a few minutes later—soft, professional tone—and informed me that th

Rowan's POVWednesday.Two damn days.And she hasn’t spoken to me the way she used to.Not that we were best friends to begin with. But there was something… easier about our interactions before Monday. Some rhythm. A weird kind of balance—chaos and control. Her clumsiness and my discipline. Her soft stammers, my sharp commands. It had a rhythm. Now, silence fills the air between us like a thick, unspoken punishment. One I didn’t ask for—but probably deserve.She comes in. Does her work. Leaves notes. Types reports. Nods if I ask for something. Never more.And honestly? I don’t blame her.She should hate me.But I won’t say sorry. Not because I’m proud of what I said. But because… I don’t know how to say it. Or maybe because I’m still stuck thinking I don’t have to say it. I’m her boss. Not her therapist. Not her friend. If I snapped, if I scolded—what’s wrong with that? Employees get yelled at. It’s part of the job. You mess up, you take it. Simple.Right?My jaw clenched as I leaned