25. Olivia
Ifeel so happy.
And the mind-blowing sex we had is not the main reason. It’s the fact he feels the same way I do. It’s that happiness that exists only when love is reciprocated.
The way Ronan held me to himself last night as we slept. The reassuring kisses he woke me up with this morning. The way he stayed with me as I showered. The light brushes of my hair behind my ears as we make breakfast together.
Everything made me feel so special my heart could burst.
But all of that paled in comparison to when he asked me to accompany him to Cesare’s estate. It is time to share the news of who was behind his daughter’s murder.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he says, parking the car outside the Ferreri estate.
“Yes,” I answer firmly but with a soft smile, and he nods.
“Let’s do this then,” he stops the car, leaning toward me to give me a swift kiss.
Ronan leads me to the patio, where the meeting with Cesare will take place.
I have seen the man once, and it was enough; he is scary. The terrifying aura around him does not lessen even though he is lounging on a couch surrounded by cherry blossoms, with blue tints from a nearby pool shiningonhis navy-blue dress shirt and pants.
He is about to take a sip from a glass of wine when he sees me. “What is she doing here?” He growls, gripping the glass so tight it might break, lines of disdain weaving on his forehead.
“She is with me,” Ronan tries to keep the air light as he sits across from Cesare. He tilts his head in my direction, and I sit. I politely greet Cesare despite knowing he won’t be responding.
“How dare you bring the person responsible…”
“We both know that’s not the case anymore,” Ronan cuts him off.
“Still, was it not her intern?” Cesare’s voice booms. “You have some nerve coming here with her,” Cesare sets his glass on the table and leans forward, never looking in my direction. “You disrespect me by bringing her here. You are still a part of my family.”
Ronan adjusts in his seat and clears his throat. He takes a long breath and then lifts his eyes to meet Cesare’s piercing gaze.
“I’m here to discuss precisely that.”
“There is nothing to discuss. Barbara is dead, so you’ll marry Sofia, you know that,” Cesare clips, and Ronan clears his throat again.
I blink, not sure what I’m hearing. It’s not that Cesare is saying he is marrying Sofia that has my brain twitching. It’s the fact that Ronan knew.
Ronan knew he would be married to someone else. He knew and still made love to me.
Where does that leave me?
“Dad,” Sofia approaches the terrace wearing a turquoise two-piece workout outfit highlightingher toned figure. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, showing what a stunning face she has. “I was told you were looking for me.”
“Sit,” Cesare orders, and the air changes in an instant.
I flip my eyes between Ronan and Sofia, seeing how good they look together. I’m the odd one here, with my denim overalls and my light green tank top.
I stand, pretending to excuse myself as if I want to give them privacy, but I’m actually bolting out of here. I scamper down the short stairs of the patio until I walk past Ronan’s car and onto the main street of the estate.
It doesn’t matter what we feel for each other. Just as with Barbara, he will have to marry Sofia because it has been arranged.
I swipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks with the back of my hands and keep hurtling down the street of the estate, not stopping until I find myself in front of the main gate. The men guarding the entrance of the estate do not spare me a second glance.
I step out, and it is now I can finally let out the sob I’ve been suppressing. The dredging pain of knowing I can never have Ronan to myself is catching up with me now.
I don’t know where I’m heading, but I start walking, needing to get to a main road so I can find my way around. After all, I’m now a free woman.
A vehicle screeches to a stop right before me, making me jump back. I see it’s a van. Before I can gather my senses, three men hop out of the vehicle and throw me in.
I kick and punch, kneeing one of them close to his crotch. He curses in a language I can only guess to be Russian. He jumps in after me while the others go to the front seats.
“What are you doing?” I scream at them, my blood simmering in my ears. No one says anything to me, but the driver seems to be in a fit of rage, cussing in Russian. When he mentions the word stupid and girl, I understand he is cussing at me.
Me? What have I done now? I hear the sound before I feel the sting. Something heavy jams into the side of my head, and it comes with a brain freeze before I shut down altogether.
My body drops, and my mind quiets.