Rowan opened his eyes and looked at Harvey, the turmoil in his gaze evident. “Do you think the kid beside Amara is her son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Harvey sighed, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. “I have seen Vaughn beside her before, but we can’t confirm that. Maybe he is someone in her family, but not her son. She’s not even married yet,” he said, trying to reason with Rowan.
Rowan nodded, but his thoughts remained in chaos. “But what if he is her son… and Alessandro is the father?” he asked, the possibility gnawing at him.
Harvey shook his head, trying to put some sense into Rowan’s mind. He knew Rowan was deeply in love with Amara and that the idea of her having a child with another man was driving him to the brink of madness. “Vaughn doesn’t look anything like Alessandro,” he pointed out, hoping to calm Rowan’s fears.
Rowan’s mind raced, battling between logic and emotion. “But what if he is?” he repeated, his voice laced with desperation. The mere thought of Alessandro being Vaughn’s father made his blood boil, and he felt a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness over Amara and the child.
Harvey placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “Listen, we don’t know anything for sure. Jumping to conclusions won’t help. You need to talk to Amara, find out the truth from her,” he advised, his tone steady and calm.
Rowan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Harvey was right. Assuming the worst without knowing the facts would only lead to more confusion and potential conflict. “You’re right. I need to talk to her,” he admitted, though the uncertainty still gnawed at him.
Harvey nodded, relieved that Rowan was starting to see sense. “Yes, and now isn’t the time for this conversation. The wedding is about to start. Let’s go inside, be present, and after the ceremony, you can talk to her,” he suggested.
Rowan took another deep breath, trying to push his tumultuous thoughts aside for the moment. “Okay, let’s go inside,” he agreed, though the weight of his doubts and fears still lingered heavily on his mind.
Together, they walked back towards the ballroom, the grandeur of the event contrasting sharply with the inner turmoil Rowan felt. As they approached the entrance, the sound of laughter and conversation reached their ears, a stark reminder of the joyous occasion they were about to witness.
Rowan steeled himself, determined to get through the ceremony without causing any disruptions. He knew that his questions and concerns would have to wait until after the wedding. For now, he needed to focus on supporting Amara, despite the storm of emotions raging within him.
As they entered the ballroom, the atmosphere was electric with excitement and anticipation. Guests were finding their seats, and the ceremony was about to begin. Rowan scanned the room, his eyes immediately finding Amara and Vaughn. The sight of them together, laughing and talking, brought a mixture of emotions to the surface-love, protectiveness, jealousy, and a deep longing for answers.
Harvey gave Rowan a reassuring nod before they walked to their seats. “Remember, patience. You’ll get your answers soon enough,” he whispered.
Rowan nodded and walked towards the front seats instead, the low echo of his footsteps reverberated through the grand ballroom. The guests had already taken their places, the soft hum of conversations dying down in anticipation of the ceremony. Rowan’s sharp eyes scanned the room, and he noticed that there was no empty seat besides Amara.
A wicked idea popped into his mind. Without a second thought, he picked up Vaughn and sat on the chair, pulling the boy onto his lap. Vaughn was too startled to react initially, but upon seeing who it was, he relaxed. Vaughn had never disliked this uncle, and for some reason, he felt comfortable in his presence.
Amara felt an arm brush against hers. She turned her head and saw Rowan sitting calmly next to her, with Vaughn perched on his lap. Her heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and unease flooding her senses. She stood abruptly, her voice trembling with surprise and indignation. “You!”
Her outburst drew the attention of the guests, who turned to stare. Realizing she had overreacted, Amara felt a flush of embarrassment and quickly sat back down. Alessandro, who was seated on her other side, noticed Rowan’s presence and his eyes darkened with anger as he remembered how Rowan has been going against him from past some time.
“Do you want to change seats?” Alessandro asked, his voice edged with a barely concealed irritation.
Amara shook her head, forcing a calm demeanor. “It’s fine.”
She glanced at Vaughn, then at Rowan, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing father and son together like this was something she hadn’t anticipated. Vaughn had always been kept in private, protected by a close circle. She wondered if Rowan had recognized Vaughn, but judging by his composed expression, it didn’t seem like he had.
Rowan met her gaze with an infuriatingly calm look. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Amara replied, her voice tight as she looked back at Vaughn, who was sitting contentedly in Rowan’s lap. Vaughn had never taken to strangers, not even to Alessandro despite his efforts to build a relationship. Yet here he was, sitting calmly with Rowan, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
“Vaughn, come here,” Amara said softly, extending her hand towards her son.
Vaughn shook his head, a stubborn look on his face. “Mommy.. I’m fine here. Your dress will be ruined if I sit with you.”
Amara’s heart clenched. “Baby, that’s okay.”
Rowan, who had been silently observing the exchange, suddenly spoke. His voice was low, tinged with an intensity that made Amara’s breath hitch. “Mommy?” he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue with an unsettling mix of curiosity and something darker, something possessive. His eyes bore into hers, as if searching for something-an admission, perhaps, or a denial he hoped.
Amara froze, the weight of his gaze sinking into her soul. His eyes, dark and relentless, seemed to peel away the layers of her defenses, laying bare the vulnerability she had tried so hard to conceal. She wanted to look away, to break the spell he was weaving with his mere presence, but she was trapped, caught in the force of his will.
And then, as if pulling back from the edge of something too raw, Rowan’s expression shifted. His lips curled into a smirk, the intensity of a moment ago replaced with a veil of sarcasm. “It’s not like I’m going to eat him,” he said, the mockery in his tone a poor disguise for the emotions he was struggling to contain.. to hold back himself from doing something that the woman he was obsessed with wouldn’t like.
Amara’s glare was instant.. a sharp contrast to the turmoil inside her. “Yes, he is my son… and.. I don’t trust you,” she shot back, her words biting, even as she inwardly recoiled at the truth in them. She didn’t trust him.. not with her son, not with her heart, and certainly not with the fragile threads of control she was desperately trying to hold onto.
Rowan leaned in closer, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. The nearness was suffocating, intoxicating, and utterly dangerous. His voice dropped to a whisper, just for her. “Not even after last night, Crimson?”
A flush of red crept up Amara’s neck and into her cheeks, his words and proximity igniting a fire in her. She murmured back, her eyes blazing with defiance. “As I said, it was just a one-night stand. Don’t think too highly of yourself.”
Alessandro noted the tense exchange, his eyes narrowing as he observed the striking resemblance between Rowan and Vaughn. It was as if Vaughn had been carved from the same mold as Rowan. Suspicion and anger churned within him, but he remained silent, choosing to watch and wait.
Rowan’s mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He was determined to claim Amara, to make her his in every way. But for now, he needed to play it cool, to bide his time. His obsession with her was a fire that burned within him, but he knew that patience was key.
The ceremony began, the soft strains of music filling the air as the bride and groom took their places. Rowan watched with a detached interest, his mind only half-present. His thoughts kept drifting to Amara, the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wanted her, needed her in a way that was almost painful.
Amara, too, found it difficult to focus on the ceremony. Her mind was a chaotic mess of emotions, memories of the previous night mingling with the present reality. She felt the weight of Rowan’s gaze on her, a constant reminder of the intensity between them. She glanced at Alessandro, who was watching the proceedings with a strained calmness. She knew he was aware of the tension, the unspoken connection that existed between her and Rowan.