Page 82 of Ruthless Savior
"Is it in yours?" I ask, glancing at him. "The land, I mean."
He's quiet for a long moment, staring out at the nighttime expanse beyond the window. "I used to think so. When I was a kid, I spent every summer here. My father thought it was necessary to connect with our roots. My grandfather still lived here, then. I knew every stone wall, every stream, every hiding place in those ruins." He pauses. "But I haven't been back much in recent years. Too busy with… other things."
Other things.The family business. The violence and danger that follow him everywhere.
"Maybe you should come back more often," I say softly.
He looks at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. "Maybe I should."
The moment stretches between us, the tension in the air thickening. I can feel myself leaning toward him, drawn by the same magnetic pull that got us into trouble on the plane.
But then he steps back, breaking the spell.
"You should rest," he says, his voice carefully controlled again. "It's been a long day."
Something jolts in my chest, a feeling that comes dangerously close to disappointment.This is about practicality. Survival. Remember that.
"Yeah," I say, turning away from the window and trying not to let what I’m feeling show on my face. "I am tired."
And I am… but more than that, I'm confused and frustrated and fighting an attraction that gets stronger every time I'm alonewith him. And now we're going to be sharing a bed, pretending to be married, living in this fantasy manor like we're actually a couple.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
There’s a knock at the door, and Ronan takes another abrupt step backward, as if he’s going to be caught compromising my modesty instead of seen alone with his wife. “Come in,” he calls out, and Mrs. O’Brien comes into the room with an honest-to-God tea tray.
She sets it down on the side table. I see some small triangle sandwiches, a bowl of what looks like chilled pudding, and a teapot with two cups. “Just something light, and some chamomile tea. I took a tray to your mother already, Mrs. O’Malley.”
I wonder if that name will have stopped shocking me by the time I shed it. None of this feels real.
“Is she settling in alright?” I ask, biting my lip nervously. “Maybe I should go check on her.”
“She said she was going to get some rest shortly. She’s just fine, if you want to settle in yourself,” Mrs. O’Brien says. “I live on the property, just in the groundskeeper's cottage, so if you need anything at all, just call.”
I nod. As she leaves, Ronan crosses the room to pour us each a cup of tea, handing me one. It’s pleasantly warm in my hands, and I grip it like a lifeline.
“I hope your mother is able to settle in alright here. You may be here for a few months,” he says calmly. “I don’t think it will be that long, but it’s possible. We don’t want to make moves on Rocco until we’re absolutely sure we can finish this.”
I let out a breath, walking to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and sinking down into it. “My family was from somewhere near here, too,” I say quietly. “My grandparents immigrated from Ireland.”
Ronan nods. “I heard your mother talking about it in the car.”
I blink at him, surprised he was paying that much attention to our conversation. "My mother always wanted to come back," I continue, surprised by my own openness. "She used to talk about it when I was little—saving up for a trip to Ireland, seeing where her family came from. But she was a single mother, and travel is expensive." I shrug. "It just never happened. I was going to save up and take her, with my salary from my new job. And then she got sick.”
"And now she's here," Ronan says quietly.
"Yeah." I look at him, feeling something soften in my chest. "She is. Because of you."
There's something in his expression when I look at him—something almost vulnerable. "I'm glad I could give her that."
"You've given us both something," I say, and the words come out more emotional than I intended. "I know this isn't… I know this situation isn't what either of us planned. But being here, seeing her expression when we pulled up to the house… thank you."
Silence stretches out between us for several long moments before he speaks again. "I know this is complicated," he says, his voice low. "I know I've put you in an impossible situation. I’ll make this as easy on you as I can, Leila. And I’ll do all I can to get you back home before too long."
I nod, swallowing hard. The air feels thick with things we’re not saying, but I’m not even entirely sure what those things are. I can’t actually have feelings for this man. He’s a mafia boss, a criminal, a man whose world is not one I belong in. I’m a tourist in it, just like I am in this house, this country, and everything that there is between me and Ronan is temporary.
I can see the bed looming in my periphery. And I want more, even if it is just until we no longer have to be married. I wantRonan to teach me all the things that I don’t know, to show me all the different ways we could give each other pleasure. I want to learn his body, and relish him learning mine.
We could have weeks together. Plenty of time for a torrid affair that I could remember for the rest of my life. It sounds romantic to me. Exciting. But I see Ronan’s jaw tense as he, too, looks at the bed, and my stomach drops.
