Page 87 of Ruthless Savior
Another pause. "Everything involves your safety now, Leila. That's the point."
There's something in his tone that sends a chill down my spine. "What aren't you telling me?"
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "It's nothing you need to worry about?—"
"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "Don't do that. Don't treat me like I'm some delicate flower who can't handle the truth. This is my life we're talking about. My mother's life. I deserve to know what's happening. I’m all the way here, in Ireland, because I trust you. You need to trust me, too, Ronan. I haven’t given you any reason to think you shouldn’t."
He studies my face for a long moment, and I can practically see the internal debate playing out in his head. Finally, he sighs.
"Rocco's made some moves," he says quietly. "Nothing direct, nothing we can't handle. But he's testing boundaries, seeing how far he can push before we push back."
My stomach tightens. Just hearing his name makes my skin crawl. "What kind of moves?"
"Business disruptions. Encroaching on territory that's been ours for decades. Spreading rumors about weakness in our organization." His jaw clenches. "He's trying to make it look like marrying you was a sign that I'm going soft. As if the fact that we put down ten of his men in that church isn’t the exact fucking opposite."
"And is it?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
Ronan draws in a breath, his eyes locking onto mine for a moment before he drops the phone onto his desk and looks out the window that overlooks the estate. “Maybe,” he says flatly. “But if refusing to turn a woman over to be sold and raped by a stranger is soft, then that’s what I’d prefer to be.”
My stomach jolts at his frankness. “I’m glad you’re not hard, then.” I bite my lip, a shaky laugh coming out at the unintended double entendre, and Ronan’s gaze flicks to mine again. Something heated flashes in his eyes, and the moment stretches out a beat too long.
“This isn’t something to joke about,” Ronan says reprovingly, and I bite my lip.
“Yeah. But sometimes joking is all you have.” I manage a smile. “When things are bad, all you can do is laugh at it, right? And honestly…” I look around the room and back at him. “It’s not all that bad right now. Yeah, my mom’s sick, and there’s a psycho mob boss that wants to kidnap and sell me, but I’ve seen firsthand how all of that could actually, surprisingly, be a lot worse.”
Ronan studies me for a long moment. “You’re astonishingly optimistic,” he says finally, and I shrug.
“What else am I supposed to do? I’d have collapsed months ago, if not.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine, and I feel my stomach quiver. This man is still an enigma to me. He’s gentle and caring, never pushing me to do anything I don’t want to, getting my mom the best medical care money can buy, spoiling me endlessly despite the fact that I’ve upended his life and caused him more trouble. But he’s also a man who tortures and kills, who violently ended a man’s life for his crimes against me, who will do the same to another. He’s a mob boss, a man who ignores laws and enacts his own rules, a man who is feared and dangerous.
He’s a man with secrets, and a marriage he won’t talk about, a man who obviously wants me as much as I want him but forces himself not to touch me. There are layers and layers of complications I can’t begin to dig through, and I’m in no way equipped to try to find my way to the bottom of all of this.
"What about your father?" I ask, changing the subject before I say something I'll regret. "Does he still..."
"Still think I should have handed you over to keep the peace?" Ronan's laugh is bitter. "Oh, yes. Padraigh's made his position very clear. He thinks I'm letting emotion cloud my judgment."
“And what does that mean for us… for me, I mean? And my mom?” I talk quickly, not wanting him to think that I meant ‘us’ as in me and him… but maybe I did. At least partially.
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications. Ronan's expression goes carefully blank.
"My father sees things in black and white," he says finally. "Always has. In his world, you do what's necessary for business, and you don't let personal feelings complicate things."
I nod, biting my lip. “But he can’t do anything now that we’re married.”
“He can’t force me to give you back. He can…” Ronan blows out a breath. “It’s complicated. He’s still alive, so I’m not the last word on everything. He could force me to step down. But it would cause upheaval in more ways than one, so he hasn’t… yet.”
“This all sounds really complicated,” I murmur, and Ronan nods.
“It is. But I’m going to keep you safe, Leila. I promise you that.”
The rest of the day and the next pass in a blur of quiet domesticity that feels dangerously normal. Ronan works from the estate office, taking calls and video conferences with his siblings and various business associates. Sometimes I catch fragments of conversation through the heavy wooden doors—discussions about shipping schedules and territory disputes and financial arrangements. My mom spends her time exploring the grounds with Mrs. O'Brien and me on the unseasonably warm day that follows, learning about the garden, helping in the kitchen, and generally acting like she's on the vacation of a lifetime. Which, in a way, she is.
I feel the same, except I also feel unmoored, floating. When I can occupy myself, I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, but every time I’m around Ronan, I feel as if I’m coming unraveled. And spending two nights sleeping in the same bed with him hasn’t helped. He hasn’t tried to touch me, but I can feel the tension between us, pulsing with all the things we both want and don’t act on. The morning after he came back, I know I heard him in the bathroom when I woke up, pleasuring himself instead of fucking me.
I almost went and walked in on him again, but I forced myself to stay in bed, my hand sliding down between my own thighs as I strained to hear the heavy breathing and low groans in the bathroom, imagining what he was doing. Imagining him thinking of me.
I came seconds before I heard the sink turn on, and when Ronan walked out and caught my eye, I had a feeling that he knew as well as I did what we’d both been doing.
