Page 98 of Ruthless Savior
He’s coming home tonight. I’ll have to tell him about the baby very soon; tomorrow, probably. This is all happening much, much faster than I feel prepared for.
I flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling above the canopy. He said he missed me. How will he look at me when he finds out I'm carrying his child? When he realizes that all his careful plans to keep this simple and contained have crumbled?
I must have fallen asleep for a little while, because I woke up to the sound of car doors and voices out in the courtyard—more security arriving and getting settled, probably. I should be worried about who is out there, who might have been following me, but all I can think about is what I’m going to say to Ronan.
If he’s going to be angry with me, or disappointed, or if he just won’t care at all. That feels like the worst possibility, that he might just tell me to take care of it and walk off, unconcernedwith anything that doesn’t involve finishing off Rocco and ending our arrangement.
That doesn’t feel like the Ronan I’m getting to know, though. The problem is, I still don’t know him well enough to know how he’ll react otherwise.
All I know is that I can’t keep it a secret. And very soon, things are going to change, one way or another.
24
LEILA
Ronan arrives early in the morning, the sound of tires on gravel waking me. I watch from my bedroom window as his car pulls into the courtyard. Even from this distance, I can see the tension in his movements as he strides toward the house, his phone pressed to his ear, probably barking orders at whoever's on the other end.
I didn’t sleep well. I lay awake for hours, rehearsing what I'm going to say, how I'm going to break the news. Every version sounds wrong in my head, first too blunt, then too apologetic, then too needy.
He doesn’t come upstairs right away. I force myself out of bed, my stomach swirling with nausea that could be from either the pregnancy or my rampant anxiety, and grab a pair of tights and my favorite sweaterdress. I throw my hair up in a messy bun and hurry downstairs, hoping I can make it long enough to have a conversation with Ronan before the morning sickness hits. Maybe if I don’t eat anything.
I find him downstairs in the entrance hall, talking to Colin. He looks up at the sound of my footsteps, and for a moment, his expression softens, the hard lines around his eyes easing.
"Are you all right?" he asks, crossing to me in two quick strides. He reaches up to touch my face, pushing back an errant piece of hair as his fingers brush my cheekbones. A shiver runs through me, one that I try to hide, but from the expression that crosses his face, I think he sees it.
"I'm fine," I manage, though having him touch me like this, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, makes my chest tight with nerves over what I have to tell him. "You didn't have to come back."
"Yes, I did." His voice is firm, final. "Tell me about yesterday. Everything."
“It’s really just what I already told you.” I run over it with him again—making the appointment, Dr. Walsh’s clinic, noticing the sedan after Colin started checking his mirrors on the way home. He listens the entire time, intently, his jaw tight as I relay all the details. Everything except the one that, to me, right now, feels like the most important.
"I want you to have a full security detail anytime you leave the grounds," he says finally. “More than what you went with for your appointment. I’d prefer you didn’t leave at all, but I know your mother needs to see her doctor, and you want to go with her. And I'm having the perimeter security upgraded."
"Ronan, that seems like overkill?—"
"It's not." His tone brooks no argument. “This is what I know how to handle, Leila. Trust me on this.”
I nod, biting my lip. I feel like I’m being crushed by the weight of what I need to tell him. Clearly, I’m not equipped for keeping secrets, or maybe I just care more about Ronan than I’m willing to admit.
"Can we take a walk?" I ask abruptly. "I need some air, and there's something I want to talk to you about."
He looks at me curiously, and I wonder if he can see the secret I'm carrying written all over my face. Finally, he nods. "Of course. It’s cold outside. Do you want to go out?”
“I could use the fresh air,” I admit. “If you don’t mind the cold.”
“I’m fine with it. Grab your coat,” he adds, and I feel a warmth in my chest at the concern in his voice when he says it.He cares about me,I think. Maybe not in the way that makes a lasting relationship, not in the way my mom seems to think he does, but he doesn’t want me hurt or uncomfortable or needing anything in any way.
He does his best to keep me satisfied and happy—except in one respect. And, I think grimly as I go to get my coat and scar and boots, it didn’t matter in the end, anyway. I guess once was enough.
We walk out into the gardens, which are bare this time of year, only a few winter-blooming flowers scattered throughout the otherwise stony space. We’re silent for several minutes, and I grapple with how to start. I still haven’t been able to figure out what I’m going to say.
We end up walking in silence all the way to the edge of the garden, where I can see pastures out in the distance, still green despite the weather. I think I can see sheep and a few blanketed horses roaming.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can also see the flicker of black, the security team roaming the estate and trying not to be overly obvious. They’re never going to be more than shouting distance away, and although it makes me feel safer, I also feel a flicker of claustrophobia. I’m not used to having so many people around, watching me all of the time.
"Ronan," I begin, then stop. My hands are shaking, and I clasp them behind my back to hide it.
"What is it?" He stops walking and turns to face me fully. "You've been nervous since I got home. What's wrong?"
