Page 72 of Ruthless Savior
I didn’t feel that when Siobhan died. I felt the pressure of my duty to avenge her, fury that Rocco would be so bold, that he would overstep and hurt what belonged to me… but it wasn’t this. Not an overwhelming desire to flay him to the bone if he threatens her again.
I need to bury that feeling, to be cold and focused. To not let emotion get in the way of planning. But the feeling remains, burning behind my ribs as I consider what Finn said.
“My father is going to want to talk to me,” I say finally. “He’s going to be pissed I married her. I’ll see what he says, then make plans from there.”
Finn nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Good idea, boss.”
For an hour or so, as the sun finishes coming up, we discuss logistics and security, the situation back at home. I call one of my assistants to arrange flowers and well-wishes to anyone injured in the attack at the church. And then, after Ida comes into the living room to let me know that breakfast is being prepared, I head back upstairs to where my wife is sleeping.
Except Leila isn’t sleeping when I walk into the room. She’s sitting up, the white sheets wrapped around her chest, and I can see from her bare shoulders that she hasn’t gotten dressed yet. The knowledge sends a white-hot bolt of desire through me, searing my veins and making my cock stiffen instantly, but I force myself to keep my distance.
She’s looking out the window when I walk in, but her attention instantly snaps to me when I step into the room. I avert my eyes briefly before looking back at her, and I hear a dry chuckle.
“Can’t even look at me now?” She sounds slightly sad, and I breathe in slowly, trying to ignore how clearly I can still smell the warm scent of her skin and perfume in the room, making my desire ratchet up to a nearly painful degree.
“Just trying to be a gentleman about it.” I clear my throat. “Last night was a necessity, Leila. I don’t intend to treat you as if you’re a commodity to be had, now.”
She swallows, her delicate throat moving, and it takes everything in me not to think about wrapping my hand around her throat to feel it move as she swallows my cum.
Christ.The throbbing in my stiff length intensifies. It’s fucking painful, this level of arousal, and I could satisfy it so easily. I must have turned into a fucking masochist, because there’s not a man on earth who would say I shouldn’t fuck this woman right now, who is mine in every possible way that matters in my world.
But not to me. She’s not really mine, and I’ll only hurt us both by pretending.
“You should get dressed,” I manage finally. “And wake your mother up. Ida is fixing breakfast for everyone downstairs. We’ll eat, and then head back to the mansion.” I pause, taking a slow breath. “Your mother should stay with us for the time being. It’s safer that way. I can’t imagine you’ll mind.”
And maybe that will help me get my head on straight. Nothing less arousing than having one’s mother-in-law living under the same roof, right?
Except she’s down the hall currently, and that hasn’t seemed to affect my libido in the slightest.
I clear my throat. “I’ll meet you both down in the dining room.”
Leila nods, and I turn on my heel, intent on finding the nearest empty guest bathroom and dealing with my arousal before I run into anyone else.This is fucking ridiculous,I think as I close the door behind me, my fingers already itching to undo my belt and wrap around my throbbing length so I can have some relief.Jerking off twice in the same number of hours overa woman I’ve already fucked. I was never this bad, even when I was in my late teens and fucking around for the first time.
I don’t know what Leila Murphy has done to me, but I need to find a cure for it, and fast.
One that doesn’t involve being inside of her again.
—
Three hours later,we’re en route back to the mansion. We had a tense breakfast that Ida made and served, with Leila’s mother thanking me for my hospitality and accepting my offer to stay at the mansion with us for a while longer, with Leila’s urging. She protested at first, saying she didn’t want to intrude on newlyweds, but I could tell she was rattled by what happened at the church. And I could tell that Leila was too—that she genuinely wants her mother to stay with us. And why wouldn’t she? It’s clear that Claire Murphy is doing better, but she’s still sick with cancer. I can imagine Leila wants every minute that she can with her mother, and I’m happy to facilitate it.
It means that I can bring back the security that was guarding Claire’s apartment, as well, which is good. I need my resources close to home, not stretched thinner.
As the SUV carrying me, Leila, Ida, and Claire pulls into the mansion’s circular driveway, I see my father’s black Mercedes parked out front. I help the women out one by one and then turn to Leila, speaking quietly.
“Ida should have a room prepared for your mother. Help her find her room and get her settled, and then go back to yours.”
Leila looks at me confusedly, and I keep speaking quickly.
“My father is here. He’s likely waiting for me in his office. I don’t want the two of you interacting if at all possible. Stay out of the way, and I’ll come talk to you after.”
Leila’s face pales slightly at the mention of my father, and she nods. She reaches for her mother’s hand, giving her a smile that looks real, but I can see it is tense. “Come on, Mama,” she says, forcing the smile brighter. “We’ll get you settled in and spend a little time together while Ronan is getting settled himself.”
I walk ahead of the women, leaving Finn to escort them and get the security handled as I head to my office. As I expected, when I step inside, my father is already seated in front of my desk, waiting for me. He looks at me expectantly as I walk in, his face thunderous, as if we had a planned meeting and I kept him waiting instead of him having barged into what is technically my home.
But it’s our family home. So until he’s dead and in the ground—which I’m beginning to wish for—the house technically belongs to him. He can go where he wishes in it.
"You should have called me."
