#like a dream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elentiyawhitethorn · 1 year

Text

Like a Dream

CW: language, sexual references, light drinking

AN: Happy Yulemas @goddess-aelin!! Or I guess New Year’s now… this is very late but I hope you enjoy it all the same, and I hope your holidays have been lovely ❤️

8047 words

“I’m sure you’ve wondering been wondering what this is about.”

Rowan shifted uncomfortably. Lorcan, his boss, had requested his presence in his office several hours ago, and the day had passed with relatively little worry.

Even upon seeing Aelin Galathynius, someone whom he very much did not want to be in the same room as, waiting in Lorcan’s office as well, he hadn’t felt concern. It was probably just an update to policy or something similar. Hell, maybe the coffee machine had broken and Lorcan wanted them to inform their departments.

But then Lorcan had greeted them, and asked them to sit, and stated that he knew they’d been curious about the topic of this summons.

And a pit of anxiety had opened in Rowan’s stomach.

Lorcan Salvaterre was not a man to make small talk. He didn’t wait for others, he didn’t bother with light conversation, and he wasn’t friendly.

Which meant he was about to tell Rowan and Aelin something that they wouldn’t like, and not a small thing like they’d have to coordinate a client together or share the break room sometimes, because Lorcan had no trouble breaking bad news. Something worse, something bad enough to have the bluntest man Rowan knew stalling to conversation.

Rowan took a deep breath and said, “What is it?” He didn’t dare look to Aelin beside him.

Lorcan leaned forward and laced his fingers together on the desk. “You both know of Dorian Havilliard.”

Of course they did. He was one of the biggest names in romance writing in the country. Their publishing house had been trying to get him to switch over from Hamel Inc. for years, but they’d had no luck.

“Yes,” Aelin said, and Rowan jolted at the sound of her voice. He finally risked a glance and was met with startling blue eyes rimmed in gold.

Rowan looked away.

“Well, as you know, Terrasen Publishing has been working on him for years.”

Rowan’s fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently as Lorcan restated what he already knew.

“We’ve finally convinced him to discuss the possibility of switching over.”

Considering the meeting, Rowan was hardly surprised. It also made sense for the two of them to be here; Rowan was head of the editorial department and Aelin was his counterpart in publishing. Together, they represented most of the publishing house and were often paired together when it came to potential clients.

It was the easy explanation for this meeting that had Rowan on edge. This didn’t make clear Lorcan’s apprehension.

“And what do we need to do?” Rowan asked cautiously.

Lorcan sighed. “Mr. Havilliard is working on his next book. He predicts the first draft will be finished soon; he’s using his Yulemas vacation to get it completed. And he doesn’t want any delay on the editing process, which means if we haven’t convinced him to switch contracts by the end of his vacation, he’ll remain a part of Hamel Inc.”

A sinking feeling formed in Rowan’s gut.

“He’s leaving for his vacation tomorrow,” Lorcan continued, “and even if we could have managed a short meeting before then, he needs more time with us to discuss logistics and a contract for him. He needs time to see everything we have to offer.”

“I’m sure he’d be open to discussing it over Zoom or even email,” Aelin suggested, and from the waver to her voice Rowan guessed she’d caught on as well.

“Mr. Havilliard is traveling to a resort in the mountains for his vacation, where there will be no cell service. He says the lack of distraction helps him concentrate. He graciously offered two fully paid tickets for any of my employees who would like to join him. You two will be traveling with Mr. Havilliard on his Yulemas trip. You leave first thing in the morning.”

Silence washed over the office as the pair of them took everything in. Rowan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I don’t recall expressing my desire to join him,” Aelin protested.

“Me neither,” Rowan managed.

Lorcan sighed once more. “Look, let’s face it. You two aren’t going home to your families for Yulemas and you don’t have any significant others to celebrate with. Everyone else, including myself, is not completely void of a social life and has plans for the holidays. You two are lonely as shit and I’m taking advantage of that.”

Aelin’s mouth had dropped open at some point during that little spiel but Rowan was used to Lorcan’s blunt transparency. He was honestly relieved that Lorcan had given up on trying to break it to them slowly. He liked the man, even—if he could manage to overlook the fact that he was being asked to spend his holidays on a work trip with his least favorite coworker.

Okay, maybe he didn’t like Lorcan so much after all.

“You can’t just,” Aelin spluttered, “I, my vacation, it’s my time off, you can’t…”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Galathynius, but this was his only offer and we’re in no position to deny him. If it helps, Mr. Havilliard alloted only a certain amount of time to meet with you as he wants most of the time to write his novel. And as I mentioned, he paid for the tickets and everything else that comes along with them. You’ll be spending most of your Yulemas holiday in a high-end resort doing whatever the hell you like. I’d say it’s a step up from whatever you were planning to do instead.”

Rowan leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. “Surely not both of us need to go.”

Lorcan glared at him. “Please explain to me the publishing process that Mr. Havilliard will be subject to.”

Rowan just blinked at him.

Lorcan turned to Aelin. “And do you know anything about the editing process?”

“You just… do grammar checks and stuff.”

Rowan cringed at the crass oversimplification of his job.

Facing both of them now, Lorcan said, “He needs every specific detail of every process. Neither of you can do that on your own. Both of you are going. That’s final. Now go home. I’m giving you the rest of the day off to pack, and I’ll email you the information of where you need to go tomorrow morning and at what time. Are we clear?”

Aelin nodded mutely. Rowan was pretty sure he felt himself do the same.

He lived in hell.

First he’d been transferred to a different publishing location six months ago as part of a promotion, only to find an enemy on the very first day. He’d smiled at her and was met with uncalled for distain and malice. The months had passed torturously slowly as the woman who’d shown him so much unkindness on the first day was constantly by his side, coordinating clients, attending work parties at his side, acting as a liaison. And throughout it all she was constantly either bickering with him, or ignoring him, or silently scowling at him. He just couldn’t figure her out.

But of course that wasn’t enough. No, now Rowan was being sent on a Yulemas vacation with Aelin, just the two of them and some eccentric smut writer who would be spending most of his time locked up in a room writing, which left Rowan and Aelin. In a resort with no cell service. Alone.

Only Hellas himself could have been so cruel as to put him in this situation.

—

Aelin dumped her bag in the back of the car with a little more force than necessary. She knew she was pouting, and she knew it wasn’t a good look on her, but how the hell else was she supposed to react to being shipped off on a work assignment for the entirety of Yulemas?

Of course they’d been given a rental car to drive together, just the two of them. Just Aelin and Rowan, a shitty GPS, a map for backup, and six months worth of loathing.

What fun.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked up and was met with something slightly more passive than a scowl. She nodded, breaking eye contact, and slumped inside the passenger seat.

A moment passed before Rowan opened his door and got in the driver’s seat. Aelin didn’t look over, focusing out the window on some obscure building as he set up the GPS, then buckled in and put the car in drive.

This couldn’t possibly be more uncomfortable for her. All of this was just one more thing to torture her after another. But honestly, Aelin couldn’t say she didn’t deserve this. This was probably the gods’ way of cursing her for being such a jackass to Rowan that first day, and failing to apologize every day since.

Why couldn’t she just have the holidays to herself?

The first two hours passed with little fanfare. At one point Aelin had turned the radio on, almost driven insane by the silence, and the soft tunes of some laid-back pop music—not her first choice, but she wasn’t going to risk Rowan’s objection with anything more flamboyant—had helped to ease the tension.

At the halfway mark Aelin asked Rowan if he wanted to switch, but he gruffly told her the driving was a nice distraction. From what, he didn’t say.

So Aelin pulled out a book and spent the following hour consumed in the pages. The turns became sharper after that and she had to put her book away for fear of becoming carsick. Aelin then glanced at the GPS and saw their estimated arrival was still nearly an hour away.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” Aelin asked, desperate for something to do.

Rowan glanced over at her. “No thank you, I’m okay.”

Frowning, Aelin turned back to the window and watched the trees fly by. She eventually zoned out as the scenery became greener and the atmosphere much more frigid.

The road become steeper and icier, and their pace slowed to a crawl. Aelin’s boredom became unease, and she gripped the sides of her seat a bit tighter.

The remaining time passed uneventfully: no conversation, no accidents, no nothing except for silence and staring. Finding the resort was fairly simple, and parking was as well. The moment Rowan slid the gear into brake, every muscle in Aelin’s body relaxed. “Thank the gods,” she muttered.

Aelin climbed out of the car. The door shut with a satisfying slam. She stretched her legs, unsure of where they were meant to go from here. Before she could say anything to Rowan, a man exited the large log-themed building and began to make his way over. As he approached, Aelin realized that this was Dorian Havilliard, not some employee. He must have been notified of their arrival somehow; Aelin decided not to ask.

“Welcome!” he called, and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. She waved as he continued to step through the thin layer of snow that coated the ground.

Dorian definitely fit the manic writer stereotype; he wore a sweater vest and wire-framed glasses, and he actually had a pencil—did writers even use those anymore?—tucked behind his ear.

“You must be Ms. Galathynius and Mr. Whitethorn. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and Aelin felt she and Rowan did a decent job of pretending their Yulemas vacations hadn’t been stolen out from under their noses. Dorian’s grip on her hand lingered for a bit longer than necessary when they shook hands, but otherwise he seemed like quite the gentleman, and Aelin found herself thankful that at least their client wasn’t a douche. She’d had plenty of less-than-friendly clientele and was glad Yulemas wasn’t entirely ruined with another.

Really, Aelin hadn’t wanted to meet Dorian. She’d come face-to-face with several authors whose writing she enjoyed and their rudeness had ruined the reading experience for her. Hopefully Dorian remained polite and she didn’t lose the will to read his books.

“So when will we have our first meeting to discuss? Immediately?” Aelin asked.

“I figured you’d want the first day off as you’ve been traveling for so long.” Aelin really just wanted to get this over with, but she could hardly contradict the man. “You two will meet me in my room at nine tomorrow morning and we’ll begin. I’ll show you to your rooms in the meantime.”

Rowan thanked him while Aelin reached for her bags. Rowan turned around to do the same, but Dorian stopped them both.

“We can have someone take that in; you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Rowan said. “I only have one bag.”

Aelin had two for the ten-day trip, but neither was particularly large. She certainly wasn’t in need of a fucking bellhop. “We’re good, really.”

Dorian protested a bit more—he didn’t seem like a man used to doing much on his own—but finally allowed them to take their own luggage. He led them inside a massive lobby/commons room that Aelin didn’t get much of a chance to take it in before they were whisked up a grand staircase, not stopping to check in. They followed Dorian down a well-lit hallway that was surely adorned with enough gold to buy a house. Finally, they stopped in front of a doorway near the end, spaced out from the handful of other doors they’d passed.

“Here’s you go.” Dorian inserted a key in the door and pushed it open.

“Oh, which of us…” Aelin trailed off when Dorian looked over.

“Whose room is that?” Rowan finished for her.

“Both of yours,” he replied simply.

No. This could not be happening. Dorian had said rooms, hadn’t he? Plural? Or maybe he meant rooms as in the bedroom and… the sitting room?

Apparently dissatisfied with their expressions, Dorian continued. “I arranged for one room to be shared; they had limited bookings left when Mr. Salvaterre and I arranged this agreement and I figured you wouldn’t mind, as there is plenty of space to claim as your own.”

As if they were in any position to deny him.

“That’s fine,” Aelin assured him. “Thank you again.” She flashed her fakest smile.

Seeming satisfied, Dorian smiled back. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember, our first meeting to discuss logistics will be tomorrow morning, at nine. My room number’s with the informative pamphlet I gave you.”

“We’ll be there,” Rowan replied. The pair of them exchanged farewells, and then watched as Dorian sauntered off.

“So.”

Aelin glanced over at Rowan. “Um.”

He looked conflicted. “Which bed do you want?”

Aelin sighed, brushing past him and stepping inside the room, their room, at last. “I guess that one?” She pointed at the bed on the left of the room at random.

To be fair, there was a decent bit of space between the beds. And the room was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the beautiful snowy mountains were framed by plush curtains. Carved wooden furniture that Aelin assumed was genuine was placed tastefully around the king-size beds. A wide open doorway led to what appeared to be a sitting room and another open door showing a hint of tile probably connected an oversized bathroom. Aelin figured it’d have some kind of jacuzzi or gods knew what else in there.

It began to truly sink in why Terrasen Publishing wanted Dorian Havilliard so badly. The man knew how to make money.

“So what are you planning on doing first?”

Aelin glanced over. “I’m not sure… I don’t really know what these kind of places have. Like, skiing?”

Rowan shrugged. “I don’t know either. I might just read a book.”

Aelin nodded tersely.

In an effort to distract herself, Aelin pulled the key out of the door and shut it, then set it on a table. She carried her things to the bed she’d pointed at and arranged them neatly on the wooden bedside table, then, with nothing left to do, turned to Rowan.

“Do you want room service for dinner? I’m about to order something.”

Rowan looked up from his book. “Uh, yeah, I’m getting kind of hungry. Is there a menu?”

“Yeah.” Aelin stood and walked over to his chair, handing him the resort’s restaurant’s menu, which allowed room service.

Rowan reached for it and his thumb brushed Aelin’s hand. She jerked away.

Frowning, Rowan started at where their hands had met. “Why do you always…”

“What?” Aelin asked defensively.

Rowan sighed. “Look, this isn’t going to be fun for either of us, but can we just try to be civil? So that this whole trip isn’t as miserable as humanly possible for the both of us?”

“We don’t need to be civil. We can just go our separate ways, okay? You can stay in here and I’ll eat in the other room.”

Rowan rubbed his temples. He looked like he was figuring out how to phrase what he said next. “I don’t understand why you’ve always acted like this, Aelin, why you can’t just behave like a regular person. You’re always trying to stay as far away from me as possible and when you can’t avoid me you treat me like scum under your shoe. I just don’t get it.”

“Is that a question?” Aelin asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, that’s a fucking question,” Rowan snapped. “Why do you hate being around me so much, Aelin? What have I ever done to you?”

Aelin deflated at that. Her shoulders slumped as all the fight drained out of her and she sank into the chair beside Rowan.

“I caught my boyfriend cheating on me the night before you started at Terrasen Publishing.”

Rowan’s lips parted in shock and understanding, but Aelin didn’t stop.

“That first day, I was cruel to you. I didn’t just cold-shoulder you or glare. Lorcan told me to show you around and acclimate you the publishing house and you were right there and I—”

Aelin cut herself off and squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them and looked down, too afraid to meet Rowan’s eyes.

“I was nasty to you, I spent the day belittling you and making you feel uncomfortable, just throwing all the shit on you I could because all I really wanted in that moment was for someone else to be as miserable as me.

“And I was so… I don’t know, embarrassed? That you’d seen me vulnerable, even if you didn’t realize it, so I just started avoiding you. That way I treated you that first day reminded me of the worst parts of myself and I just wanted to forget about it, but we were always forced to work together.”

“Aelin… why didn’t you just explain to me the next day what had happened? Or at least told me you’d had a rough day if you didn’t want to share the whole story? It didn’t have to go on like that.”

Aelin’s finger twisted around a hole in her jeans anxiously. “I’m not good at apologies, Rowan. And the longer it went on, the harder it got to think about explaining.”

Moments passed. Aelin kept her eyes down, barely keeping herself together with sharp breaths as she waited for Rowan’s response.

Finally, it came.

“I forgive you.”

Aelin scoffed. “No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know me, Aelin, and you have no right to tell me what I do and don’t mean. I forgive you,” Rowan repeated. “I’m not saying you treating me the way you did was excusable, or that all those months of bitterness can be forgotten. But you’re apologizing now, and that counts for something.

“Look, you heard what Lorcan said. We’re at a high-end resort at no expense to us. We aren’t working the whole time. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but it could be a hell of a lot worse. Let’s try and, you know, start over?”

Aelin finally got the nerve to look over and was met with the intense stare of Rowan’s pine green eyes. Her fingers stilled against her thigh.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she rasped.

Then Rowan smiled, and something deep inside Aelin’s chest began to thaw.

—

“Where should we start?”

Rowan opened his mouth to respond to Dorian, but before he could Aelin reached for her bag and retrieved a small binder.

Aelin pulled a stack of stapled papers out of her binder. “I brought a sample contract to go over with you; it’s all very adaptable to your needs but in preliminary form it still lays out the rudiments.”

Rowan blinked in surprise. He hadn’t thought to do anything other than show up, and here Aelin was with her organization and a whole fucking binder despite the one night to prepare. Though, Rowan really shouldn’t be as disbelieving as he was; he may have his strengths in overseeing the editing process but Aelin’s strong suits were people and deals.

Dorian nodded at her, and Rowan leaned back, ready to watch Aelin do what she did best and answer any questions about the editing if needed.

The next hour passed with less misery than Rowan had anticipated. Watching Aelin negotiate with an expensive client-to-be like some kind of lawyer was… impressive. To say the least.

Dorian was rushing them by the end of the meeting, seeming keen to return to his new novel, but they’d gotten a decent bit of talking done. Feeling satisfied with their work—or rather, Aelin’s—Rowan followed Aelin from Dorian’s lavish hotel room, even more grand than their own, and out into the hall.

“Do you want to do something together today?” After hearing why Aelin had always acted the way she had, it had been easier to look past her actions and closer at her. They’d spent the evening eating room service dinner in bed and talking—not about anything too personal, but about their work and their hobbies, interests, all the like. Rowan was pretty sure he’d learned more about the prideful woman last night than he had over the course of six months of working together.

Aelin looked over at him, a surprised smile pulling at her lips. “Like what?”

Rowan shrugged. “Like ask the front desk what kind of rich-people activities they offer.”

Aelin laughed, bright and melodious. “I’d like that.”

Upon walking to the front desk, the pair was informed they could go skiing or snowboarding, go snowmobiling, swim in the indoor pool or jacuzzi, ice skate, relax in the spa and/or get a massage, visit the bar, exercise in the full-size gym, or do a number of other activities that Rowan hadn’t even heard of before.

The front desk attendant, Yrene, sent them a friendly wave as they walked away.

Rowan, mouth hanging open, glanced over at Aelin, who snorted at his expression.

“Is it all really paid for?” Rowan hissed. “Fully?”

Grinning maniacally, Aelin nodded. “I read in the pamphlet Dorian gave us that to go skiing or snowboarding you need to have brought your own equipment, but everything else is entirely paid. We can do anything.”

“Maybe I’m not so mad at Lorcan after all,” Rowan murmured.

“So what do you want to do?” Aelin asked, looking more excited than he’d ever seen her.

“You pick,” Rowan said.

Aelin bit her lip. “Ice skating?”

He smiled. “Have you been before?”

She shook her head. “You?”

“A couple times. It’s been years though.”

Aelin nodded and grinned again, and then they were walking back to their room to get coats.

Ten minutes later left them outside next to an iced over pond bordered on one side by the resort, another side by a rock overhang that sheltered the space from the wind, and the rest by a grove of massive conifers. The frozen pond was almost perfectly circular and surrounded by an iron handrail. It seemed like a convenient, authentic location, but Rowan guessed at least some of the details aside from the rail were artificial.

Rowan had no idea how many guests were staying in the resort, or what they spent their days doing, but apparently none of them were interested in skating. The enclosed outdoor area was void of all life aside from Rowan and Aelin.

They’d been provided with skates and then showed out the door. Aelin had been bouncing with energy, seeming quite youthful, and Rowan had realized this was the most unguarded he’d ever seen her.

Rowan watched as Aelin eagerly stumbled toward the rink, her hands out to keep her balance. She placed one blade on the ice, sliding almost immediately.

Aelin fumbled around for a moment, then gave up trying to skate and clutched to the handrail. “This is not as easy as it looks on TV.”

“You’ve only just started. Give it some time.”

She blew a stray tuft of bangs from her face, no less determined. Rowan watched in amusement as Aelin started clopping around the perimeter, most of her body weight on the handrail.

Rowan stepped onto the ice himself. It was a little tricky at first, but after a few minutes his body had remembered how to move and soon enough he was skating upright, albeit with a wobble, decently enough.

The thump of Aelin hitting the ice caught Rowan’s attention and he looked over to find her sprawled out on her back, a pout on her lips.

Rowan chuckled. He skated a smooth line across the ice and Aelin glowered at him from below.

“Having fun?” he asked.

Aelin frowned as Rowan extended his arms. “Yes,” she said stubbornly. She reached for him, clasping her hands in his.

“Careful,” Rowan murmured, holding them both steady as he adjusted his weight and pulled her to her feet. Aelin swayed, but Rowan’s grip was firm.

He could feel Aelin’s grip loosening when she regained her balance, trying to let go, but Rowan kept his hold on her. “What—”

“Let me help,” he interrupted. Rowan tugged her forward and she gasped, but didn’t fall.

Rowan skated backward a few more feet, letting Aelin get a feel for her balance and how her feet needed to move. Her body relaxed a bit as she accepted his help, trying to move her feet in time with his.

As Rowan skated back and Aelin stared at the ground in concentration, he watched her. Her hat was askew and her bangs were falling into her face again. A determined little frown resided on her lips.

After a few laps around the rink, Aelin’s grip on Rowan became less lethal and her feet began to move more steadily. Something had clicked for her, it seemed.

Aelin looked up from the ice and their eyes met.

“I really am sorry for how I’ve treated you,” Aelin whispered.

“I know,” Rowan said simply, and Aelin’s returning smile was answer enough.

“Ready to let go?” he asked.

Aelin nodded, and Rowan watched with a warm heart as she released him and tried moving on her own, one hand hovering over his just in case.

—

Aelin woke shivering.

Her eyes snapped open and she recounted her surroundings, processing the stack of blankets on top of her and the heavy, thrumming feeling of cold.

Aelin slipped out from under her mound of covers, wincing as she was surrounded by freezing air. She stumbled over to the radiator.

There was some kind of error symbol in the corner. Frowning, Aelin tapped at the buttons, unsure of how to use such a high-tech system. Only a thin hint of residual heat emitted from the thing.

“Dammit,” she murmured.

How was she supposed to stay warm in the mountains at night with no heat? The past few days of ice skating—Aelin had insisted on going every day, getting better with each try—had chilled her but not severely. It was the nights that Aelin couldn’t handle, and this one was even worse than the last. She’d already pillaged every spare blanket Rowan hadn’t claimed and still she’d woken feeling a chill in her very bones.

Trying the stay quiet, Aelin reached for the closet doors and started sifting through the various linens. Finding nothing, Aelin rifled through the drawer below, only coming across towels.

Aelin was just reaching for a whole stack of towels, too desperate to care about propriety—and honestly, these towels were nicer than any of Aelin’s bedding at home—when a voice rasped, “What are you doing?”

Aelin winced, not wanting to have woken him. “I can’t find any more blankets,” she whispered.

“That’s because you already have seven on your bed.”

Aelin shot a glare in the general direction of Rowan’s bed. “I’m cold.”

She waited for a witty retort, but all she got was the rustling of his covers and a faint silhouette as Rowan sat up. “Come here.”

“What?” Aelin asked cautiously.

“Come here,” Rowan repeated.

Rising clumsily and kicking the drawer shut, Aelin walked toward Rowan’s bed. She hesitated when she reached him.

Rowan moved over, making space beside him. In the dark Aelin couldn’t make out his expression, but she could see him gesture beside him, faint but unwavering.

Still tentative, Aelin slowly eased onto the bed, breathing rapid. She didn’t dare say a word as she lowered herself onto the bed, jerking backward when her leg brushed Rowan’s.

Maybe he was still half-asleep, or maybe he really didn’t see this as anything odd, or maybe a wave of confidence had washed over him, but Rowan only wrapped an arm around Aelin’s waist and tugged her flush against him, every curve and edge of hers pressed against hard muscle.

Aelin was pretty sure she gasped at the contact.

He pulled his covers over her, cocooning her in warmth. “Still cold?” Rowan asked, and Aelin bit her lip as his breath tickled her ear.

“No,” she whispered.

“That’s good.”

“Mm.” Aelin lay perfectly still as Rowan’s arm went farther around her waist, his hand sliding underneath her from the other side. Getting comfortable.

“Your heart’s beating very fast.” Rowan’s voice was still gravelly from sleep. Aelin told herself the shiver that followed was from the cold.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s definitely is.”

Aelin could hear the smugness in his voice. “Shut up,” she hissed.

He let out a soft, rumbling laugh, and the vibrations traveled down Aelin’s spine. He didn’t say anything more, though, and Aelin pressed her head against Rowan’s chest, seeking his warmth and trying to relax.

It took a while for Aelin’s heartbeat to slow and her heavy breathing to subside, but when sleep finally washed over her, it was more deep and peaceful than it ever had been.

—

Morning hit Rowan in the form of a head of blonde hair.

Blinking away the sleep, he looked over at Aelin, curled into his side. Her cheek was pressed up against his bare chest. His own arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her securely.

The drowsiness had obliterated his restraint.

Trying to process the fact that Aelin was really here, in his arms, rather than in some twisted wet dream, Rowan gently let go of her. He scooted away, wincing when Aelin whined sleepily and reached for him.

Climbing out of bed, Rowan rubbed his temples. What was he doing with Aelin? What did all this mean?

“Rowan?”

He pressed his eyes shut and let out a heavy breath, then turned. “Morning.”

“Mornin’,” Aelin slurred.

“We have another meeting with Dorian today. We should get ready.”

Aelin groaned in protest, pulling the covers over her head. Deciding to give her a few more minutes, Rowan checked the time and then grabbed a towel from the linen closet, headed for a shower.

It wasn’t as cleansing as he’d wished it to be. Rowan had thought the cold water would wash away all the inappropriate thoughts, the twisted emotions, the smell of Aelin’s perfume. But ten minutes later he was wrapping a towel around his waist and the confusion lingered.

Rowan left the bathroom to grab some clothes, noticing Aelin’s sleepy gaze snap straight to his bare chest, then his arms. Pretending he didn’t notice, he reached for clothing out of his unpacked bag, then retreated back to the bathroom.

Aelin had finally gotten up when he emerged, and was reaching for an outfit from the neat little stacks she’d set up next to her own bed. They exchanged a heated stare and Rowan wasn’t entirely sure of what he read in Aelin’s expression.

She waltzed past him to change in the bathroom, and he just grabbed some notes on the past few days with Dorian to distract himself.

They’d had three meetings so far, spaced out every other day. The first had been a day of covering the basics of the contract, and the next two had been full of negotiations, shaping Dorian’s potential contract into something he could agree to. Aelin and Rowan had been discussing yesterday and come to the conclusion things were wrapping up in Dorian’s mind; the contract-to-be was close to being fully edited to suit his needs. He was going to give them an answer on switching publishers soon, one way or another.

After each meeting, and on all the off days as well, Aelin had dragged Rowan outside to practice skating, and each time he got a little more emotionally confused. Sure, she’d apologized, and his forgiveness was genuine, but that didn’t mean he could just brush right over everything. A week was hardly enough time to go from hating someone to… not hating that person. Rowan shouldn’t be—

Rowan stopped that thought. So much for distracting himself.

He let out a frustrated growl, clenching his fists.

“You okay?” a voice asked, and Rowan cursed himself to hell for not noticing her leave the bathroom.

He turned to find Aelin leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a cream sweater and jeans.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking about Dorian. Lorcan will be pissed if all this was for nothing.”

Aelin’s face said she didn’t believe a word of it, but she didn’t pursue it. Instead she asked, “Do you think he’s finished the book?”

Rowan shrugged. “He said he was getting close a couple of days ago. He could be. He might even give us the draft today if he’s finished it.”

“If he’s going to sign with us,” Aelin added, wandering over to a dresser.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to start editing right away if he gives you the draft?”

Rowan gave another shrug. “Probably. Or maybe I’ll be able to stretch out the last few days of this vacation and pass it off when we get home.”

“Why?” Aelin reached for a pair of earrings, gaze on a mirror as they made small talk.

“I don’t often edit romance books. That’s Fenrys’ job.”

Aelin sent a smirk in his direction. “Ah, yes. You’re the historical fiction editor. How could I forget?”

“What’s funny about that?” Rowan asked defensively.

“Nothing at all,” Aelin replied, but she couldn’t keep her laugh in.

Rowan sighed. “Historical fiction is good. It offers a realistic perspective on time frames and events that deserve to be delved into. You shouldn’t be laughing.”

Grinning fiendishly, Aelin finished with the mirror and crossed her arms. “If you say so.”

Rowan just shook his head, shooting her an exasperated glare and nodding toward the door. “You ready?”

The walk to Dorian’s room wasn’t tense or silent, but it wasn’t as open as previous conversations between them had been. Aelin had likely picked up on Rowan’s weird mood, he thought with an internal cringe, and they were both nervous about the book deal as well.

Dorian greeted them and showed them into his sitting room as he’d done every other time. He had set out tea again, a habit of his, and Aelin accepted a cup graciously. Less inclined toward the substance but never wanting to offend a potential client, Rowan sipped his as well.

“I’m sure you’ve both realized that my mind is made up by now.” Dorian clasped his hands together and let the suspense linger.

Geez. This man knew how to be unnecessarily dramatic. Then again, maybe the millions his books had made had earned him the right to be a little sensational.

“Yes, we figured,” Aelin replied smoothly. “Is it good news?” Rowan could tell she was just as anxious as him, but Aelin was a hell of a lot better at hiding it.

Dorian smiled. “For you, quite. I made some last edits to the contract. You can look them over here, and if you find everything satisfactory, I’ll sign.”

Relief washed over Rowan in waves. He may have been lying to Aelin earlier when he told her that was what was on his mind, but he truly had been concerned. If Dorian had declined their offer and renewed his contract with Hamel Inc., Lorcan would be furious.

“Then I’ll give you the first draft of my new novel,” Dorian continued. “I finished looking over it yesterday so it’s very rough around the edges, but all the same, you can start editing right away if you so choose.”

Rowan nodded, and Aelin asked for the contract. They looked over it together, finding only minor changes that were acceptable to them. Dorian signed with an expensive fountain pen, and Rowan and Aelin released their bated breaths.

The whole meeting was a whirlwind of suppressed celebration and shared grins between the pair. Dorian sent them off with the draft, and they left, almost skipping down the hallway. As soon as Dorian’s room was out of earshot, Aelin let out a squeal and Rowan whooped.

“Thank the gods,” Aelin exclaimed, raising a hand for a high five.

Chuckling, Rowan met her hand. The contact felt like an electric shock, but Rowan ignored his confliction. They’d gotten one of the best-selling authors in the country to sign with their company. Today was not a day to be moping.

“Let’s go to our room,” Aelin said. “I want to read it.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

Aelin shrugged. “I can help.”

Rowan squinted. “Why?”

“Well…” Aelin looked away. “I’ve been waiting for book four in this series since January.”

Rowan let out a surprised laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

“Shut up,” Aelin hissed.

“You read…” Rowan looked down at the draft. “The Toxic Heaven series?” he asked, scoffing at the title. He hadn’t even realized this thing was part of a series until now.

Aelin frowned. “It’s good. You can’t judge me. And don’t tell me you haven’t read any of them.”

“Um, no. I definitely have not.”

“None?” Aelin gasped.

Rowan crossed his arms. “I’m the boring historical fiction guy, remember? I don’t read this garbage.”

“It’s not garbage,” Aelin snapped, tugging the pages from his grip.

“Hey, that was definitely meant for me.”

“You’ll get your turn soon enough. Just give me a day or two.”

Shaking his head with a smile tugging at his lips, Rowan followed Aelin down the hall and back to their room.

—

Aelin got through the entire draft that day. She had allowed a break for ice skating; she was enjoying it immensely and was actually becoming decent. Other than that though, her eyes were glued to the smutty masterpiece all day long. Rough around the edges, sure, but it still had Aelin blushing.

Rowan had sent her amused glances throughout the day, which she’d pointedly ignored.

Flipping the last page, Aelin closed her eyes and grinned to herself. The main characters, who’d broken up in the last book, were back together. There was I’m-mad-at-you-but-I-still-love-you sex, makeup sex, fluffy sex, dirty sex. And Aelin refused to be embarrassed about enjoying it.

“That good, huh?”

Eyes opening and darting to Rowan, Aelin sent him her meanest stare. “You should try it you know. Maybe you’d get some if you paid enough attention.”

“Who says I don’t already get some?” Rowan’s voice was soft.

Oh, this was dangerous.

“I don’t know,” Aelin said, much more casually than she felt. “I don’t know a whole lot of people who are into historical fiction fanatics.”

Rowan crossed his arms, and Aelin tried not to stare at his bulging muscles. Had the room been this hot earlier?

“You’re ridiculous, you know that? I don’t think there’s a rule that says what I like to read means I’m clueless around women.”

Aelin opened her mouth to retort, but noticed something behind him. “Is that champagne?”

“Yeah, I figured we deserve to celebrate after landing that deal. I didn’t want to interrupt your reading, though,” he added with a grin. “Should we have some?”

Aelin ignored the jest and nodded. “We should.”

She sat up on her bed while Rowan popped the cork poured the alcohol into champagne glasses. He brought two over, sitting next to her on the covers. “You know, not only were we harassed into a work trip over Yulemas, which I’m pretty sure is illegal, we also got a famous author to sign with us. I feel like there’s got to be some kind of raise coming our way.”

Aelin laughed. “Gods, I hope so.” She took another sip of champagne, savoring the way it warmed her as it moved down her throat.

“What is all the fuss about Dorian Havilliard, anyway? There are only so many ways to write porn.”

“You clearly have no creativity,” Aelin replied. She picked up the draft and held it up. “He’s quite decent.”

Rowan squinted. “Let me see that thing.”

Aelin shook her head but he reached for the papers in her hands too quickly for her to draw them back. Rowan set it on his lap and flipped to a random page. “‘Celaena whimpered as Sam fucked her. Gods, she wanted to hate him, and maybe she did, but she could never hate his large, pulsating—’”

Aelin threw a pillow at him. “Stop it.”

“This is shit.”

“It’s not,” Aelin hissed. “Put it down and let Fenrys edit it when we get back.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I never realized what poor taste you have.” He tossed the draft on the bedside table.

“You’re just provoking me.”

Rowan scoffed. “Trust me, I may know nothing about writing smut, but I assure you there are better words to describe a cock than pulsating.”

Aelin sat up beside him. “Do you ever read smut, Rowan? Or do you just criticize people for having more game than you?”

He snorted. “I prefer doing over reading when it comes to certain things.”

Aelin felt her face warm. “Well… that’s just great for you.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow.

Aelin took a sip of champagne to occupy her mouth before she could say anything more humiliating, but Rowan didn’t let it slide.

“Do you ever get laid or is it all fictional?”

“That’s none of your business,” Aelin blustered.

“I entirely agree, but you’ve already asked me. I feel like it’s only fair.”

Aelin scowled. “Of course I do.”

“And when you do is it more or less pleasurable than reading Toxic Heaven?”

“Now you’re just teasing me.”

“Oh, I definitely am.” Rowan’s eyes darkened. “We’ve been dancing around each other all week, Aelin.”

Her toes curled. “I guess we have.”

Rowan plucked the glass out of Aelin’s hand and set it with his on the table. “Tell me you don’t want this.” Their knees bumped.

“I do,” Aelin whispered, shivering when Rowan’s hand found her hair, gently tugging on a strand of blonde. He leaned closer and Aelin felt her breath catch.

Rowan’s other hand fell to her thigh, sliding up slowly, giving her every chance to say no. His lips were now so close to hers, their eyes locked.

Rowan closed the last half inch but just before their lips could meet, Aelin turned her head to the side. “Um.”

Rowan leaned back.

“I’m sorry.” Aelin stood up.

Rowan rose beside her. “You don’t have to apologize, Aelin. It’s okay.”

She glanced at him, then looked away, nodding silently.

“If something’s wrong I can—”

“It’s not you, Rowan. It’s not your fault. I just can’t.”

He nodded, not asking her why. Aelin appreciated him for that more than she ever had before.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, you can stay.” Aelin felt a tear slide down her cheek.

She could feel Rowan’s hesitation. “Aelin, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, I shouldn’t have done that. We can pretend it didn’t happen if that makes you feel better.”

Aelin shook her head, blinking away more tears and feeling ridiculous for crying. “I don’t want to forget. I just don’t want it to happen. It can’t.”

“Why not?” Rowan’s voice was gentle, soothing.

“Because,” Aelin threw her hands up in defeat, “If we do anything now it’s going to be some short-lived fantasy that ends the second we’re home. And I don’t want this to be like some fucking dream that I—” Her voice cracked. She finished the sentence in a whisper.

“That I wake up from.”

Silence washed over the room. Aelin could barely hear anything over the pounding of her own heart, anyway.

For once, Aelin didn’t look away from Rowan. She started straight at him, watching, waiting.

He stared back at her for what felt like an eternity, unmoving. And then all of a sudden Rowan wasn’t still anymore; he was moving forward, and his hands were on Aelin’s face, and then his lips were on hers, and the rest of the world faded into grey.

Kissing Rowan felt like this whole whimsical, expensive vacation had felt. Like some kind of magic thing that was unexpected but not unwelcome, frustrating yet so freeing at the same time. Like every moment she’d had with Rowan prior, honestly.

One of Rowan’s hands fisted in her hair and the moan that left Aelin’s lips sent her mind straight from convoluted metaphors to the rush of heat headed straight down.

Before Aelin could drag him back to the bed and jump him like every molecule of her body was begging her to do, Rowan pulled back.

“I don’t want this to end either, okay?” Rowan was panting. “All the months we spend bickering because of one misunderstanding, one bad day, have been dissipating over the past week. I misjudged you, Aelin. And now that I’m no longer blinded by the idea that I dislike you, I’ve seen that you’re not somebody that I want to have a vacation with and then forget about. I want to get to know you better, I want… I want this to continue.”

Aelin looked up at him in shock. She nodded faintly. “Me too.”

He flashed a smile then, wide and genuine, and Aelin couldn’t help but grin back.

“I hope this means we get to go on a date,” Aelin murmured.

“Oh, it most certainly does.” Rowan pecked Aelin on the lips again, and the casualness of it sent butterflies off in her stomach. “I hope someday I can live up to the standards Dorian’s novel has put on me.”

Aelin choked on a laugh. “Gods. You’re horrible.”

Rowan twisted a finger around a lock of blonde hair. “You know, you’re going to have to put up with a lot of teasing if you really want me. And gods, imagine what the people will say about you dating a historical fiction editor. It’s not too late to back out.”

Aelin shoved him playfully. “I wouldn’t back out for the world.”

She’d meant it to match the joking mood, but it came out serious. Rowan stared at her silently, then moved impossibly closer. Their noses bumped.

“I wish that first day had never happened,” Aelin whispered. “We wasted so much time.”

“I regret nothing,” Rowan said. “Because things worked out so that I’m here with you, right now, and it was more than worth the wait.”

Aelin beamed at him. “And you say you don’t read romance novels. Who taught you how to charm a lady so well?”

Rowan laughed. “Not everything can be found in a book, Aelin.”

“You’re wrong,” Aelin murmured.

Rowan hummed. “I think I could teach you a few things Dorian left out.”

“Oh yeah?” Aelin tugged Rowan toward the bed. “Like what?”

Rowan grinned ferally. “Let me show you.”

They were laughing as they hit the bed.

———