Page 39 of Ruthless Savior
I hesitate, but she seems genuine enough. I like her, despite the fact that she’s also clearly heavily involved in the mob. I hadn’t expected white-collar criminals to be so… personable.
“Sure,” I say finally.
"How are you handling all this? Really?" Her voice is gentle, concerned. "This world, this life—it's not easy for outsiders to adjust to. It’s not often that someone just gets thrown into it like this."
I pause, biting my lip. “It’s complicated. I need to be home, but I can’t be. I feel ungrateful because Ronan is being very kind. But I don’t want to be here.”
Annie nods like she understands, though I don’t see how she can. "My brother seems… different with you around."
That startles me. "Different how?"
"Calmer. Less angry." She pauses. "He's been carrying a lot of weight lately, a lot of responsibility. It's good to see him smile again."
I think about the conversations we’ve had over dinner, about the way he seems to have relaxed around me since that first morning when he came into my room. About the night he came home with blood on his hands, quite literally. "He's not what I expected."
"He's a good man, Leila. But he's also in charge of this family, and he's been through things that have left him… guarded." Annie's voice is careful, measured. "I just want you to be careful. He's not in a place for complications right now."
The implication in her words makes my cheeks flush. "We're not… I mean, it's not like that."
“Mm.” Annie looks at me for a long moment. “It’s probably best that it stays that way, then. Something to keep in mind.” Her voice isn’t unkind, but it is firm. She smiles at me and pushes her chair back. “I’m sure Ronan will deal with Rocco sooner rather than later, and you can go home. This will all just be a bad dream.”
I sit there for a long moment after Annie leaves, turning what she said over in my head. I have no intention of there being anything more between Ronan and me. I don’t need the complications any more than she seems to think he does, and I’m a little annoyed by her assumptions. But she’s his sister, I tell myself, and if I had a sibling, I’d probably be just as protective.
It’s sweet, actually, that she looks out for her brother. It’s clear their family is closer-knit than I would have thought, too—although I suppose a family of criminals would need to have each other’s backs.
That evening, Ronan lets me use the landline in his office to call my mother again. I know she will have settled in for the evening by now, probably watching television in her bedroom or reading a book. I can picture it, and it makes my chest ache with missing her.
She picks up on the third ring, and my heart leaps. "Hi, Mom."
"Leila! I was just thinking about you." Her voice sounds stronger than it has in weeks, and relief floods through me. "The nurse you arranged, Sarah, she's wonderful. She made me the most amazing soup today. It had ginger in it—it really helped with the nausea. She’s very sweet and capable, I feel so spoiled."
"Good, I'm so glad." I drop into the chair by Ronan’s desk as I clutch the phone to my ear, looking out of the window at the snow beginning to fall. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, actually. The new medication I’ve been prescribed is helping with the chemo symptoms, and Sarah makes sure I'm eating regularly. It warmed up yesterday, so we went for a short walk. There’s another nurse, too—Jen? She’s wonderful as well.”
Tears prick at my eyes. The fact that she went out on a walk feels like a good sign. Her energy was already dropping severely at Thanksgiving, despite the doctors suggesting that slow exercise would still be good for her. "That's wonderful, Mom."
"I don't know how you arranged all this, sweetheart, but it's been a godsend. I actually feel hopeful for the first time in months."
The guilt hits me like a physical blow. This wasn’t by my design; I somehow lucked out. Ronan has done all of this. I just made it all worse with the shady loan and could have ended up lost forever, my mom abandoned and wondering what happened to me, while I died a slow death in another country. The fact that Ronan was there that night, that he rescued me, that he waswilling to do all of this without, apparently, asking for anything other than for me to not try to run off in return, is an incredible stroke of luck that I can’t really take credit for.
But she doesn't know that, and she can't know that.
"I'm just glad you're getting the care you need," I manage.
"When are you coming home, though? I miss you terribly."
"I miss you too." More than she could possibly know. "But I need to stay where I am a little longer. Just until everything is completely sorted out."
"This person who's helping you… they're treating you well?" Her voice is nervous, uncertain. “I really don’t like this, Leila. I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but none of this seems right.”
I bite my lip, thinking about everything Ronan has done to take care of me. About the blood under his fingernails and the visit with his sister. "Yes, Mom. They're treating me very well."
After I hang up, Ronan looks at me from across the room, sipping his whiskey. Despite our conversations, he’s been very careful to put physical distance between us since that night when I confronted him in his study. He never gets too close to me, our proximity at the dinner table is the only time he’s within touching distance. I think of what Annie said, and I wonder if she noticed something about him. If there’s a reason he’s purposefully keeping me at arm’s length.
“It sounds like she’s doing well,” he says finally, and I nod.
“She is. Thanks to you.”
