Page 88 of Ruthless Savior
He avoided me for the rest of the day, until dinnertime.
He leaves the next morning, after three days of us passing each other in halls, sharing meals, and sleeping next to each other while the tension winds tighter and tighter. He doesn’t kiss me goodbye, doesn’t promise when he’ll be back, and I can see how tense he is.
Then it’s just me and my mom and Mrs. O’Brien again, rattling around the huge house.
It rains in the afternoon, and I get Colin to light a fire for me when he does one of his rounds. My mom finds me there, coming in to sit down next to me as I set the book that I’ve been trying to read down on my lap.
“You look like you’re brooding,” she says wryly, and I bite my lip.
“I’m just reading,” I say defensively, and she chuckles.
She glances at the book in my hands—a collection of Irish poetry that I picked up randomly. "You’ve been in here for a while, and it looks like you’ve managed three or four pages.”
I look down and realize she's right. "I was just… thinking."
She looks at me knowingly. "About Ronan."
It's not a question. My mother has always been able to read me like an open book, and apparently that hasn't changed now that we're living in an Irish manor house.
I sigh, setting the book on the side table next to the tea Mrs. O’Brien brought me. "It's complicated, Mom."
“I’m sure it is.” She sighs, settling back into the chair across from me, the fire crackling merrily next to us. “But I can see the way you look at each other. He’s got it as bad for you as you do for him.”
"No, he doesn’t." The denial comes automatically. "He's attracted to me, maybe. But that's not the same thing."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her smile is infinitely patient. "You really don't see it, do you?"
I frown. "See what?"
“As soon as you walk into a room, he finds you. He listens when you talk. Looks at you when you’re not looking at him. It seems pretty clear to me that the two of you aren’t sleeping together, or at least, not doing anythingotherthan sleeping?—”
“Mom!” My face turns bright red. “We don’t need to talk about this.”
“Maybe we do.” She cocks her head slightly. “It’s clear that you want each other, and that there’s chemistry between the two of you. But you said it was an arrangement. So what’s really going on here, Leila?” She leans forward. “Why did someone shoot up a church on your wedding day? What benefit are you getting from this marriage that isn’t what you obviously want from your husband that he’snotgiving you?”
I bite my lip. The urge to keep secrets that have been embedded in me since I arrived at Ronan’s feels strong, but I think my mom is owed answers at this point. And it would feel good to talk to someone about it.
“I told you I took out a bad loan,” I say softly. “I went to a loan shark for money. I thought I could keep up with the payments, I really did. But I fell behind just before Thanksgiving. He had some of his guys grab me, hit me, threaten me. That’s where the bruises came from.” I swallow hard, looking at her guiltily. “I’m sorry I lied.”
My mother’s face has gone pale. She reaches out to touch my hand. “No, honey. I’m sorry that you thought you needed to…” She breaks off. “Just tell me the rest.”
So I do. I tell her about being drugged, kidnapped, locked in a cage. I tell her about Ronan being at the warehouse that night for reasons of his own, and how he brought me back home with him.
“It turns out the guy who bought my debt is an Italian mafia boss,” I say quietly. “And Ronan is the head of the Irish mafia. So by saving me, he stepped on this other guy’s territory, I guess. His father and his allies wanted him to give me back. He refused, and the only way to keep it from happening was for me to marry him.”
My mom looks stunned. “I…” She pauses, and I can tell that she has no idea what to say— which, I think, is probably normal when your daughter tells you that she’s married a mafia boss.
“That’s not what I expected,” she says finally, sitting back. “Although it all makes a lot more sense now. Leila…mafia? That’s what you’ve gotten mixed up in?”
“To be fair, I only intentionally got mixed up with the loan shark,” I point out wryly. “But yeah… that’s what it’s turned into.”
“He doesn’t seem like a mob boss,” my mom says thoughtfully. “Not what I would have pictured one being like, anyway.”
I think of Ronan coming home that night with Neil’s blood caked in his fingernails, and I say nothing, just nod. “He is different,” I say finally, and that is true. Ronan is not what I would have ever imagined.
“And he’s kind to you. And to me.” My mom lets out a breath, staring at the fire. She looks back at me after a moment. “He’s never hurt you, right? Never?—”
“No!” I say it emphatically, shaking my head. “No, never. He’s… a good man, in that respect. Even if he does some things that… aren’t.”
