Page 26 of Ruthless Savior
7
LEILA
Ilie in the enormous bed, staring up at the ceiling, and try to make sense of everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. The sheets are softer than anything I've ever felt in my life, and the mattress is so comfortable that under normal circumstances, I'd probably be asleep within minutes. But these aren't normal circumstances, and my mind is racing too fast for sleep to even be a possibility.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Ronan's face. The way he looked at me during dinner, like he was trying to figure me out. The way his jaw tightened when I tried to leave the dining room, and how his hand felt when he grabbed my arm to stop me. The heat in his eyes that he tried so hard to hide.
I shouldn't be thinking about any of that. I should be thinking about my mom, about how to get out of here, about how to fix the mess I've made of everything. And I am. But thoughts that keep slipping in are about how devastatingly attractive he is, and how wrong it is for me to be attracted to a man who's essentially holding me prisoner.
Even if he did save me from something worse.
I roll over onto my side, pulling one of the ridiculously expensive pillows against my chest. The room is dark except for the faint moonlight coming in through the heavy curtains, and it's so quiet that I can hear my own heartbeat. Back home, there's always noise—traffic, neighbors, the sounds of the city that never seem to completely go quiet. Here, it's like being in a different world entirely.
A world where men like Ronan O'Malley exist.
He’s as dangerous as Neil and Rocco, maybe more so. A violent, bloody man who said he was going to kill someone so casually that remembering it terrifies me, even if that person is a monster. And he’s dangerous in other ways, too—ways that I keep trying not to think about.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the memory of the sound of his voice when he told me I was beautiful. Deep, accented, the kind of voice that could drive a woman wild if it whispered the right things in her ear.
I’ve never met a man like him. Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt anything like this pull toward him before.
I’m twenty-two and still a virgin for a reason. In high school, the boys who chased me seemed pathetic, awkward, none of themright. I was never a romantic, never the type to paint myself pictures of love and romance, but I still wanted someone who made my heart race to be my first. In college, I was too focused on getting good grades, on making sure my mother’s hard work to help pay for my college wasn’t wasted. I didn’t party very much, unless Alicia dragged me along. And usually, I ended up being the designated driver, or needing to be the sober, practical one while she got drunk and hooked up. Being reckless, on my own, exploring, wasn’t something I felt like I could do.
That’s why, before my mom got sick and readjusted my priorities again, I was looking forward to having my own place. To being a twenty-two-year-old with a good job and her ownapartment in the city. To finally meeting someone who made my heart race enough for me to take my clothes off for him.
If that’s the only requirement, Ronan O’Malley is the one.
“Fuck,” I mutter aloud, shaking my head at the thought. It’s insane. This is insane. I'm losing my mind.
I sit up abruptly, pushing my hair back from my face. I can't just lie here all night, driving myself crazy with thoughts I shouldn't be having. I need to do something productive. I need to figure out how to get out of here.
Ronan said I couldn't leave, that it wasn't safe, but he also said he'd make sure my mom was taken care of. What if I could find a way to contact her? To let her know I'm okay? She must be worried sick. She's probably called the police by now, reported me missing, but who knows if they’ve done anything or found anything, told her anything.
The thought makes my stomach clench with guilt. She's already dealing with so much, and now she has to worry about me, too. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid when I took out that loan in the first place.
I feel the urge to get out of here coursing through me like cabin fever. Ronan warned me what would happen if I left, but how can I stay? How can I just sit here and do nothing? How can I trust another man I don’t know with my safety, with my mother’s safety…
I know she shouldn’t travel in her condition, but maybe we should clear out the accounts and leave. Go somewhere else where Rocco can’t track us. Another state. I could get us set up somewhere else, find a new job…
And navigate a new healthcare system? Get all of that paperwork done? How long would the money last? How long to find a new doctor, get new appointments, a new treatment plan?
That won’t work. But I can’t justwait.
My mom might be dying. And Ronan is a criminal. A man who saved me, but still a man who, apparently, is in themafia. The same type of organization Rocco runs, according to him.
How can I trust a man like that, even if he did save me?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hitting the plush carpet. I’m wearing a pair of thin sleep shorts and a tank top that Ida left on the bed for me, and I go to the closet, getting out a pair of jeans and one of the silk blouses. There’s a soft cashmere cardigan hanging up in the closet now, too, and I slide it on, letting out a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of the fabric against my skin. I have no idea where Ronan got these clothes, and I’m not sure I want to know—especially since he didn’t want to tell me—but they’re gorgeous.
The jeans are much too long. I roll them up several times, and then realize that I still have no shoes. It’s snowy outside. I don’t know how much—it could be an inch or several. I haven’t exactly been kept up to date on the weather.
How am I going to get anywhere without shoes? I’ll get frostbite.
I take a deep breath and tell myself I’ll figure it out. Maybe I can find a pair of shoes in a mudroom downstairs, or in the foyer?—
I bite back a laugh. As if anyone in this gorgeous house is going to just leave their shoes by the front door.
The door to my room isn’t locked. I feel a stab of guilt—clearly, after our conversation, Ronan trusted me enough not to lock it again, and I’m going to break that trust. But maybe it’s also a test.
