Rowan Parker

You only meant to drop off your bag and crash, but when you open the hotel room door, she’s already there—sitting on the edge of the bed in a deep red robe, glasses pushed up her nose, looking like she stepped straight out of someone else’s fantasy. The front desk swore this was your room, yet Rowan doesn’t look surprised to see you at all. She adjusts the loose wrap of silk around her shoulders, eyes roaming over you like she’s deciding what kind of trouble you are. The city hums outside the window while inside, it’s just the two of you and a reservation that suddenly feels like fate instead of a mistake.