20. Olivia
Day 7
I have never known a happier morning, and by the grin on my face, anyone can attest to it.
“Good morning, Liam,” I set a plate of waffles and a tall glass of cranberry juice in front of him on the kitchen island as he grabs a stool to sit on.
“Looks like you had the best night of your life,” he chuckles. I shrug, then set another breakfast plate not far away from him.
“I can’t say the same for you, though,” I tease. He looks a little worn out and not at his best, considering the way the collar of his white shirt is not properly arranged.
“Some days I hate my life,” he bites from his waffles. Some days,” he puffs, “I need this.” He picks up his cranberry juice and sips, making my smile wider.
My smile whisks into a full-out beam as Ronan steps into the kitchen.
He held me while I fell sleep last night.
I blush at the thought and the residual feeling of warmth in my stomach. I inhaled his scent. His soft snoring was like a lullaby. And the strong feel of his muscles against my soft curves was better than any mattress.
When I woke up, I felt completely refreshed. I’m not sure he noticed as I slipped out of his arms, but I did press a soft kiss on his cheek before getting out of the bed to make us breakfast.
“Good morning,” I point at his breakfast, and he nods at me.
“Good morning,” he says with a softer than usual voice. He seems a bit more relaxed. Still in his sweatpants but wearing a black T-shirt.
“Nice sweater,” Liam says to me, stuffing his mouth with more waffles.
It’s the same sweater from last night. I catch Ronan shooting him the killer stare, but Liam seems careless with his shrug.
“What are we doing this morning?” Ronan changes the conversation, and Liam sits a little straighter.
“I found our girl,” Liam winks at Ronan, “beautiful with a touch of evil,” he whistles. “Just my kind of woman.”
“Liam,” Ronan clips.
“Yeah,” he washes down his waffles with another sip from his juice. “She is in the Bratva territory, but I was able to get her to book an appointment with me, so we will be meeting with her in a few at your girl’s bakery,” he points at me with his glass.
Ronan rolls his eyes at the comment.
“She thinks we want to do a tasting, so I’m sure she has been working all night to put something together for me and my bride-to-be,” Liam chuckles. “As if,” he snorts.
I want to add something to the conversation but don’t know what to say because I’m still trying to wrap my head around Ruth”s betrayal.
“Eat up, we have a long day ahead of us,” Ronan snaps and I nod, looking down at my breakfast.
It will be a long day indeed, but if it can end with me in his arms again, I don’t mind.
* * *
“We are here,” Liam announces as if I don’t know we are at my bakery.
He has parked a little away from the shop, and in the distance, I can see Ruth standing outside in a checkered dress and a white apron with cupcake motifs on it.
“Cake tasting,” I chuckle at the irony. How many times have I baked cake for others and thought of how it would be like to be the bride and walk in to have my very own tasting?
Ronan steps down from the car and stretches his hand out for me like he has been doing since last night. I drag my butt on the backseat of the car until I get to his side of the door, then place my hand on his palm. Ronan clasps his strong hand around mine and leads the way.
As we get closer, Ruth sees us. She freezes like a deer stuck in the headlights of a car at night, and then makes a run for the bakery. Ronan charges toward her, slipping a foot through the door just before she slams it. He pushes in with his body, throwing Ruth off balance, and she stumbles to the floor.
I feel adrenaline coursing through me at the sight of Ronan unleashing his most brutal side.
“I will be here,” Liam says before returning to the car.
I walk into my bakery, which no longer feels like it is mine. Nothing has changed, but somehow, everything feels different. Perhaps, I’m the one who has changed.
“What do you want, why are you here?” Ruth stutters when we are both standing in front of her.
“You seem on edge Ruth. What is the matter,” smirks Ronan, with a teasing tone to his voice.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Ruth stutters, her body trembling and her eyes going wide in a frenzy. I just wasn’t expecting you.”
“Ruth, it’s okay, we just came here to talk” I say to her gently.
“Who were you expecting Ruth. Your new buddies? Who have you been hanging out with lately? Do you know there are some dangerous people around here?” Ronan keeps speaking, venom in his voice.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” Ruth cries. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“Ruth, I told you we are here to talk. Ronan, let me talk to her,” I say, turning to him with annoyance.
“Why do you think we want to hurt you? Olivia is your friend. Are you feeling guilty about something?” says Ronan, with the same tone as before.
“I didn’t mean to kill anyone, I swear,” she squeaks the last part as Ronan takes a menacing step towards her, but I halt him by grabbing his wrist.
“Ruth” I say calmly. “So, you did it? Why? Why would you do that to me. I thought we were friends. What have I ever done to hurt you?” I ask her, tears in my eyes.
“I wanted your bakery to go under… a-and they told me they could help! The laxative… it was only to mess up your order, give you a bad rep, I-I-I… didn’t know the bride was allergic t-to laxatives.”
I knew she did it the minute I saw the apron, but hearing her admit to it is a different kind of betrayal, and all I can think is… why? Why would she want to hurt me that way? What did I do to deserve it?
“Why?” I search her eyes, but her gaze drops to the floor.
“My mother’s bakery closed down last year because of yours. We have no money, we cannot even pay the rent… when they came to me, I couldn’t say no,” Ruth sniffs, “I didn’t mean to kill anyone… I swear, please…”
“You fucking did, so quit the bullshit,” Ronan grits, and he takes another step towards her.
Quick as lightning, she slips her hands into a drawer in front of her and pulls out a gun.
I gasp in shock. Who is this person?
Ronan halts but doesn’t seem bothered when she aims the gun at him.
Except then Ruth shakes her head and tilts the gun, aiming it at me.
“One more step and she is dead,” she might be trembling, but she means every word, “I have nothing more to lose.”
Ronan’s eyes narrow, his body strained as he weighs his options. The air is thick with tension, and I can almost taste the fear. “Ruth, think about what you’re doing. Is this what you want? To add another crime to your list?”
Ruth’s hands shake more violently, the cold metal of the gun glinting under the bakery’s harsh fluorescent lights. Tears stream down her face, leaving salty tracks on her cheeks. “I… I can’t go to jail. I can’t—” Her voice breaks, the desperation clear.
“You’ve already lost so much,” Ronan says, his voice softening just a fraction, his usual gruffness giving way to a gentler tone. The sound of his voice is like a balm, almost calming in this chaotic moment. “But this isn’t the way to fix it.”
“Listen to him, Ruth,” I plead, my voice trembling. “We can figure something out, but not like this. Please, put the gun down.”
Ruth’s resolve wavers, the gun lowering slightly. The sound of her ragged breathing fills the room, each breath a battle. “I just wanted to save my family…” Her voice is barely a whisper, and the sadness in her eyes is palpable.
“And we can help,” I say quickly, the urgency in my voice matching the pounding of my heart. “But you need to trust us. Please, Ruth.”
Ruth’s grip on the gun loosens slightly, and she sobs, a heart-wrenching sound that echoes off the tiled walls. But then, her eyes harden again, and she tightens her grip, aiming the gun more steadily at me. The click of the safety being released is deafening in the silence.
“I can’t go back now. I can’t,” she says, her voice breaking but her resolve firm. Her desperation is like a physical force, pressing against my chest.
Ronan takes a cautious step forward, his boots scraping on the floor. “Ruth, please, don’t do this. We can find a way to help you.” His voice is calm, soothing.
Ruth”s finger hovers over the trigger, her eyes filled with despair and determination. The room feels like it’s closing in, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the background feels ominous, each tick marking the passing of precious seconds.
“Ruth, please,” I whisper, my heart breaking. “I always thought of you as a friend… I know you are too good of a person to have orchestrated any of this, please…”
Ruth’s finger trembles on the trigger, her breath hitching as she struggles with her decision. Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, the gun shaking in her unsteady hands. Every second feels like an eternity.
The faint smell of vanilla and frosting seems almost mocking in this dire situation.