Page 84 of Ruthless Savior
For a moment, I think Ronan has left and gone back to Boston without saying goodbye. The thought makes me feel oddly sad. But a moment later, I hear the sound of running water, and then the bathroom door clicks open, and my husband steps out.
He’s dressed for the day in dark grey chinos and a forest-green sweater that looks soft. He smiles at me, and for a brief second, all of this almost feels real.
“Did you sleep all alright?” Ronan asks, as normal as if we were an ordinary married couple, and I swallow hard.
“Yeah,” I lie. What else could I say?I lay awake for hours because all I could think about was how much I wanted you to roll over and fuck me into the mattress all night. I can’t imagine what expression would cross his face if I said that, but I do know what his answer would be.
And I don’t think I can take rejection from him again before I’ve even had coffee.
“Catherine—that’s Mrs. O’Brien’s first name—will have breakfast ready by now,” Ronan says. “I’ll meet you downstairs once you’re up and dressed. I’ll be leaving for the hangar to fly out in a couple of hours.”
I nod, blinking away sleep. Ronan strides past me and out into the hall without another word, all business, and I run a hand through my hair, trying to come to terms with the idea that, for the time being, this is my home.
I wish I could call Alicia, send her pictures of it, and tell her all about this experience. I suppose, when this is all over, I’ll be able to. But for now, it’s been made very clear to me that involving her in what’s happening will only put her in danger.
Still, I miss my best friend.
I get up, going to do my morning routine before dressing in a pair of jeans, a soft cream-colored t-shirt, and a dove-grey cardigan over it. When I find my way downstairs, following the scent of breakfast to the dining room, I find Ronan and my mother already seated at the table. Ronan has a full breakfast of sausages, eggs, and toast in front of him, while my mother is sipping tea and picking at what looks like a cranberry orange scone topped with clotted cream and jam.
“Leila!” She smiles brightly as she sees me walk in. “Did you sleep well? Catherine says she’s going to give us a tour of the manor today, after I make some calls about doctors and such. I’m so excited. And if it warms up, we might be able to walk the grounds a bit.”
“I slept fine,” I tell her with a smile, feeling my mood lift considerably at seeing how lively she is. Everything else aside, it seems like this trip is going to do her a world of good, and honestly, if so, that makes everything else worth it.
Ronan tells me some small details about his trip back to Boston without giving away anything to my mother. I ponder as I nibble at the steel-cut oats with fruit and sausages that Mrs.O’Brien—Catherine—puts in front of me, how much I’m going to tell my mom. Ronan hasn’t said I can’t tell her who and what he really is now—he’s left that to me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the pretense that he’s just some billionaire with enemies. Surely, after the attack on the church and the safe house, my mom is starting to suspect.
But that’s a conversation for another time. I smile and nod as Ronan shares some of his travel details with me, and then he fills us in on what we could do for fun and reminds me to always take thorough security with us if we decide to go anywhere. When breakfast is over and my mom is on a second cup of tea, he motions for me to walk out with him.
I follow him to the foyer, where his packed bags are waiting for someone to load them up. “I’m hoping to be back in a few days,” Ronan repeats. “If you need anything, you can call me, text me, whatever. You have your phone. Someone will always be available to help you with whatever you might be in need of.”
I nod, my chest tight. Looking up at him, I have the wild idea that I want him to kiss me before he goes… but why would he? He didn’t even kiss me on our wedding night.
“Okay,” I manage. “We’re fine, really. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about anything.”
Ronan chuckles dryly. “I think there’s a lot to worry about. If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here. But I take your meaning.” He manages a tight smile. “I’ll let you know when I land in Boston.”
A man comes in and collects his bags. Ronan slings his leather messenger bag over one shoulder, giving me one more look, and I see him hesitate. Almost as if he’s thinking of…
But then he turns to leave, and I’m left standing there in the foyer, watching the door close behind him as he disappears from view.
When I return to the dining room, my mom and Mrs. O’Brien are getting ready to walk around the manor house. I happily joinin on the tour, learning where everything is over the course of the next hour or so. There aretwolibrary rooms, one big and filled with shelves and comfortable chairs, and a fireplace, and a gorgeous view, and the other smaller and more functional. There are plenty of unused bedrooms, and Mrs. O’Brien also shows us the two sitting areas, the formal dining room, the kitchen, and the grand ballroom where parties would be held if Ronan so chose. There’s also a room that’s been walled with mirrors and has mats and some equipment for working out toward the back of the house.
“We’ll do a tour of the gardens and such when it warms up,” she says. “But for now, I’m sure Claire needs her rest, yes?”
My mom nods, and I bite back a smile at how they’re clearly already on a first-name basis. My mom is excellent at making friends, and this is no different.
She goes up for a nap, and I go to find something to read, trying to take my mind off of Ronan. The day passes slowly, pleasantly, and I end up in the kitchen around lunchtime, where my mother is in a small window nook as Mrs. O’Brien prepares sandwiches. There’s an undeniable bloom of color on her face as she looks outside at the foggy green landscape.
"Look at this.” She points to where I can see a family of foxes playing in the garden. "In Boston, the closest thing to wildlife we see is pigeons and the occasional rat."
Mrs. O'Brien chuckles as she brings over a thick-cut ham sandwich for each of us, along with chips and a plate of sliced hard cheeses. "Wait until you see the deer in the evening, Claire. They come right up to the windows sometimes."
I dig into my sandwich, enjoying the atmosphere of the kitchen. It smells like spices and warm bread, and I see Mrs. O’Brien starting in on kneading a loaf—for dinner, maybe. The sandwich tastes like homemade bread, and the ham is better than anything I’ve had back home, rich and sweet. By the timeI’ve eaten it all, along with the chips and pickle and some of the sharp, hard cheese, I’m stuffed.
I sit back as Mrs. O’Brien brings us tea, looking around at the kitchen with its old-fashioned appliances and stone tile floor, the huge windows overlooking the gorgeous view outside. “I could get used to living in a place like this,” I say softly, and my mom smiles.
“So could I,” she agrees. “Oh—look!” She gestures to the garden, and I see the three fox kits are tumbling over each other in a patch of sunlight, their mother watching from nearby with patient eyes. It's the kind of scene you'd see on a nature documentary, except it's happening right outside our window.
"They're beautiful," I murmur, and I mean it. Everything here is beautiful—almost overwhelmingly so. I catch myself wondering if it's real, if I'm going to wake up back in Boston in my cramped apartment with bills piling up and my mother getting sicker. If all of this, even the bad parts that led to Ronan finding me in the first place, is just a dream, and any moment now we’ll be back in the same straits that took me to Neil Sawyer in the first place.
