Chapter 15
Ronan didn’t need any further reason to save Vidal Records beyond Ireland herself, but sitting in the conference room after hours, without the piped music and enthusiastic, colorfully clothed employees, made him realize what would be lost if he continued with his initial, long-gestated plan.
The creative musical energy that thrived here held a certain magic. He’d seen firsthand that it was hard, often thankless work, and he understood why Ireland was conflicted about it. Making and enjoying music was next to spiritual, but for a record label, the finished product was a commodity to be sold and had a sliding scale of value. It was far too easy to fall in love with a song, which made it that much harder to decide it wouldn’t appeal to enough listeners to be financially feasible to distribute.
Still, he was growing increasingly more excited by the thought of building something rather than tearing it down and doing so alongside Ireland, who fought so fiercely for the people and things that mattered to her. If, one day, she fought for him and whatever this thing was between them with equal ferocity…
Well, he wouldn’t be worthy of it, but he was working on that.
He picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d searched for in the company records. He had decided to come to the offices to make the call because he wasn’t sure she’d answer without Vidal Records showing on her Caller ID and because he had nowhere else to go now that he’d lost his hotel room. He laughed ruefully. There were vipers in his family, but he didn’t worry about Ireland’s ability to handle them like she was so deftly handling him.
“My god, girl,” Alina answered, sounding thoroughly exasperated. “You promised to leave work and go punch things at the studio!”
The unexpected revelation straightened Ronan’s slumped shoulders. “Alina, it’s Ronan. Please don’t hang up.”
There was a wary pause on the other end. “How did you get this number?” she asked finally.
He opened the saved bookmarks in his browser. “You’re a contractor with Vidal. Your contact info is in the system.”
“Isn’t it illegal to use my information for personal reasons?”
“No. It is an invasion of your privacy, though, and I’m sorry for it, but desperate men do desperate things.” Like he was doing right now by calling Alina Rurik while simultaneously wracking his brain for the article he’d saved about the Krav Maga gym Ireland trained at. He swore silently. He had to find it to find her.
“If you’re hoping to sweet talk your way into another round of crazed jungle sex with her, you’re delusional.”
“I’m never not hoping for that with her,” he said, scrolling down the list of his bookmarks, searching. “But right now, I just want to explain what happened and how I’m addressing it.”
She snorted. “How, exactly, do you address cheating on your fiancée?”
He went very still. For fuck’s sake, could this day get any worse? He winced. Of course it could—depending on whatever else Ireland thought she knew. “I’m not engaged. Have never been engaged. Who told her otherwise? Jules?”
“Why would she or I believe any-fucking-thing you say?”
“Because I can prove it.” And if he had to bring Scarlett to New York to do so, he would.
Alina sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not the right guy for her, and for so many reasons, there’s not enough paper in the world to write them all down. That you can tear Vidal Records into pieces, knowing what that’s doing to her?—”
“It was a mistake,” he interrupted. “A miscommunication. I’m fixing it.”
“So, she finally realizes you’re too toxic even for her, and you miraculously find a solution that you couldn’t find earlier in the week?”
When she put it like that… “I’m in this fight for my family, Alina. That made it harder for me to realize that I’m prepared to fight for Ireland, too.”
“You know what? I don’t care. Listen, I’m not your ally and never will be. Ireland has dated some exceptional assholes but you… You, Ronan, are in a class by yourself. If you ever contact me again, I’m calling the cops.”
The line went silent.
“ Merde ,” he breathed, setting the phone down and removing his glasses. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
If that was a taste of what Ireland had in store for him, he didn’t know if there was any chance at all for him to make things right. And hadn’t that been the struggle all along? Everything had gone wrong long before they’d met, and he’d been trying to paddle upstream, over raging rapids, ever since. Damned if he wasn’t exhausted by it all, and he knew she was, too.
But even as he sat there, telling himself to fly home as Jules and Claudette had done earlier, he craved her and couldn’t turn it off. More, he didn’t want to.
Opening his eyes, he straightened. The name of the Krav Maga gym returned to him in a flash. He pushed back from the table. If Ireland was done with him, so be it. But she would hear the truth before he walked away.
Parker Smith’s Krav Maga gym in Brooklyn was housed in a brick-faced warehouse in a revitalized industrial area. Flanked on one side by a trampoline park and a nutritional supplement company on the other, it boasted two massive delivery bay doors that could be opened for airflow. When Ronan entered, he saw rows of aluminum bleachers against one wall and dozens of students sparring on mats throughout the vast space.
Smith himself was easy to identify, mainly because Ronan had just seen his photo. He was also the only figure moving from mat to mat, giving instruction and praise as needed. Rangy and sleekly muscular with skin that reminded Ronan of café au lait, Smith was far stronger than his lithe body looked, and he was a highly skilled instructor as well, which he demonstrated by escaping the grasp of someone behind him. It was a move Ronan recognized because it was the one Ireland had used on him when she left his hotel room.
Even with her long hair restrained in a tight bun on top of her head, Ireland was impossible to miss. She was so tall, her legs miles long, her body graceful yet powerful. She was sparring with a man more than double her size and holding her own, which made it easier for Ronan to observe her in action.
He knew she could handle herself, but she was still vulnerable—and infinitely precious to him. She could continue being the fierce, impetuous, reckless, and fearless woman she was with him if things worked out the way he hoped. Her family kept her insulated to protect her, but he wouldn’t have to cage her to keep her safe. Danger would never get through him to her—ever.
It didn’t take Smith long to spot him and walk over. The man examined him from head to toe with keen dark eyes and extended his hand with a welcoming smile. “Parker Smith. Welcome in.”
Smith’s handshake was powerful enough to feel the bite of his wedding ring. Ronan returned the gesture with a nod. “Ronan McCaffrey.”
“What brings you in tonight, Ronan?”
“This day has been kicking my ass.” He watched Ireland grab her opponent from behind so the guy could practice breaking the hold. “Figured I might as well make it literal.”
Smith laughed. “I haven’t had that one before.”
Tearing his gaze away from Ireland, Ronan glanced at Smith, catching the grandmaster giving his physique a thorough, examining study as a potential client.? “I need to get on a mat with Ireland Vidal.”
“Is that so?” Smith’s gaze narrowed on him. “I still haven’t decided whether you’ll get on a mat. Period. Do you have any experience?”
“No.”?
“How much do you think you know about Krav Maga?”?
“Not a damned thing.”?
“Then you’ll start with me,” he declared with a decisive nod of his shaved head.?
“I’m here to spar with Ireland,” Ronan reiterated smoothly, if intractably.?
Rounding on him, Smith’s posture was loose and relaxed, but he was bristling. “I’ll make two things clear to you, man. One: my studio is not a place to hookup. Two: that woman could kill you in under a minute without you laying a single finger on her.”?
Ronan huffed a humorless laugh. “Now that I do know.”
“ What the fuck are you doing here? ”
He smiled inwardly at the sound of Ireland’s voice but knew better than to do so outwardly. Turning, he faced her. “Hello, cher . We have some things to discuss.”
Dieu , but she was absolutely stunning. Taking the opportunity to drink her in, Ronan almost wished she had flaws, even just one. Anything that might offer him some hope of surviving her. But no, she was perfect. In too many ways to count.
Her face was flushed, and there was a fine sheen of sweat on her exposed skin. That he wasn’t responsible for her glow was a shame. Still, she smelled deliciously of hardworking woman and her perfume. He could find her in darkness by those two scents, the one combination on earth capable of overriding his highly evolved self-preservation instincts.
She shot him an incredulous look. “Was blocking your number not a clue that I don’t want to talk to you?”
He remembered standing in the lobby of Vidal Records and taking a last look into her eyes before she found out who he was. He’d known that would be the last time she would ever look at him with untarnished trust and affection.
The way she looked at him now was beyond brutal after what he’d once had with her.
Smith came into Ronan’s view and got in his face. “Are you a fucking problem? You come here , of all places, to harass one of my students? You got a death wish?”
“You’re the second person to ask me that today,” he drawled. “It must be true. And yes, cher , I got the message, but I have some things to say, and you’ll hear them. If you need to hit me while I talk, so be it. I did give you carte blanche to use my body for your pleasure.”
Her beautiful eyes narrowed dangerously, then they sparked with a maliciously eager light. Ronan felt a surge of triumph. He’d watched her confront that idiot in Jazzie’s and saw the soul-crushing indifference on her face when she’d looked at the guy. Now, he saw hurt and disappointment, which wounded him but also revealed that she still felt something, which was far better than nothing.
“I don’t mind breaking this guy in,” she said to Smith without looking away from Ronan. “In fact, I’d really enjoy it.”
Smith looked between them grimly. “My studio isn’t a therapist’s office. If you two have issues, take them somewhere else.”
“At least half the people in here right now are here to blow off steam,” Ireland countered. “Three minutes max, Parker, and he’ll be out of here.”
Ronan’s brows lifted. She was really pissed if she needed three minutes to whale on him.
“It’s not a fair fight,” Smith pointed out.
Ronan laughed inwardly because he knew Smith wasn’t worried about Ireland. Yes, his greater size and strength made him a threat to her, but a couple dozen people in the room would step in if he crossed a line.
Ireland’s smile was vicious. “Oh, I’m sure Ronan learned how to defend himself with a face and body like he has.”
It struck him abruptly that she knew about his record somehow. She let him know with the challenge in her eyes and the bitterness that compressed her lushly seductive mouth. His shock turned to horror, followed swiftly by grim resignation.
At that moment, he didn’t know whether he would’ve told her at some point. Part of him thought it was better if she never knew. Another part wanted her to accept him despite his past, for her to know every dark and ugly secret he had and want him anyway.
“And maybe I won’t land every hit.” She flashed another razor-sharp smile. “Or maybe I will.”
He growled low in his throat. “I don’t doubt it.”
Smith snapped his fingers and waved his hand, clearing the combatants off the nearest mat. “Make it quick,” he told her.
Ronan focused only on her, mentally preparing for battle: a swift one on the mat and a far more difficult one after. When this was over, he had to keep Ireland close enough to figure out if what they had was fleeting or something he’d fight the world for.
She padded barefoot onto the mat. He went to the nearest bleacher bench and sat to remove his shoes and socks. Before heading over, he’d changed into gym shorts and a T-shirt. She wore a black sports bra and matching leggings, the skintight clothing revealing all the slight curves of her flawlessly sexy body.
Standing, he joined her. She widened the spread of her legs, settled her weight, and held her arms up with bent elbows. He found her defensive position of power outrageously arousing, especially considering his current circumstances.
She beckoned him with a flex of her hand and a wicked gleam in her eyes. Resigned, he shook out his body, trying to limber up.
Lunging without warning, she caught him in the shoulder with a palm strike, sending him stumbling back a few steps.
Ronan got back into place, his jaw tightening grimly. He focused more closely as they began to circle each other. Curious students started to draw closer to watch. Ireland feinted, then lashed out with her foot. His leg gave out under the blow, and he fell to one knee. A man in the room shouted, “Go, Ireland!”
She laughed, clearly enjoying herself, which was the only reason he clambered to his feet.
“You just going to stand there and bleed?” she asked.
“I’m not—” His head snapped back, and pain exploded in his mouth. “ Sacre bleu! ”
“What’d he say?” someone called out.
Tasting blood, Ronan rubbed his jaw and considered how to end this. He lowered a little, looking for an opening, remembering how he’d charged out of her elevator like a raging bull the night before and pinned her to the wall with his cock. She wasn’t going to be so accommodating now. He saw an opening and tackled her, shifting to take the hit to the floor, then rolling her under him. Lowering his head, he went to give her a quick kiss before she knew it was coming…
He was flat on his back and winded, to the sound of more whistles and cheers. He couldn’t quite grasp how she’d shifted and kicked him off. All he knew for sure was that his pectorals throbbed from the imprint of her heels.
“She’s giving a masterclass,” Parker called out so the entire warehouse could hear.
Ireland stood over where he lay sprawled. “Bet you wish you’d stayed home with your fiancée.”
Someone gave a long, slow whistle while others went oooooh .
“I’m not engaged,” he bit out.
“Does Scarlett know that?” she asked sweetly.
“Scarlett,” a woman repeated.
“Yes,” he answered vehemently. “She knows that. Everyone knows that.”
“Everyone who doesn’t live in your parish?” Her gaze was hot. “Because everyone there says you’re engaged.”
“ Pour l’amour de dieu! I’m. Not. Engaged!” How did she know so damned much?
Cross , he thought dourly. Her brother had the money and power to expose expunged criminal history. And Ronan was going to face the brunt of that power at some point...
He rolled onto all fours. Next thing, he was sprawled on his face by a kick in the ass.
The roar of laughter was deafening.
Cursing the saints, Ronan gave up on playing nice and sprang to his feet, pivoting quickly to avoid another swipe of her leg. Bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet, he raised his hands and ducked another palm thrust. His lip was pulsing with pain, his mouth awash in the metallic taste of blood.
“I’ll put you on a video call with her,” he told her, deflecting another jab. Maudit , she was fast. He ducked her incoming fist. “You can ask her yourself!”
There were more ooooohs, and he started to feel like they were on a reality TV show.
Jaw set with determination, Ireland eyed him grimly. They circled, their footsteps the only sound in the now quiet room.
“And I’m sorry about the studios,” he said, feinting when she got too close to force her to retreat. “They’ll be up and running by the morning.”
And he’d bled cash to get it done. The company that had taken the equipment off their hands had charged three times what they’d paid to return it all.
“What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “Thank you?”
He leaped to avoid another leg swipe. “Jules acted without my knowledge.”
Darting forward, she caught him in the shoulder with her palm. “You don’t seem to know what you’re doing with this takeover,” she taunted. “Why not just give up and go home?”
“Why not save Vidal instead? Oof! ” He doubled over, gasping, still feeling the sole of her foot in his gut.
She stopped moving, her breathing rapid. “What?”
Ronan straightened and grabbed her, pulling her in for a hard, open-mouthed kiss and holding her to it with a hand cupping her head. The pain in his lip was like fire, but her flavor soothed him and quenched his thirst. There was a weighted silence around them, but when she didn’t resist him, it broke with raucous applause.
When she gripped his hips, he lifted his head and held her luminous gaze. “I said, let’s save it. Together.”
“Okay, that’s enough!” Smith yelled, herding the crowd away from them. “Show’s over! Time to do what you came here to do, people! Let’s go!”
Ireland pulled away from him. She licked his blood off her lip, and that turned him on so fiercely it was only the physical pain he felt that kept him from getting hard.
Shaking her head, she said faintly, “I don’t understand.”
“Give me a chance to explain.” He fought the urge to take her hand and keep her from leaving. “All of it. I’ll lay out my entire life for you.”
Smith walked over. “You two good now?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Well, get the hell out of here if you’re not here to work. You’re distracting.”
Ireland stepped outside Parker’s studio with Ronan beside her, and it felt surreal. For one, seeing him outside of work in a routine part of her life felt intimate. And two, she had believed he’d finished what he came here to do and gone home. She’d lived with that thought for hours that felt like days because the emotional pain was so merciless.
What was he doing to her? How was he doing it?
She felt the intensity of his focus on her as they paused together on the sidewalk under a streetlamp. His energy was so fierce.
“Can we get a drink?” he asked. “Or coffee? Dinner, maybe?”
He was so heart-stoppingly handsome, standing before her so earnest and penitent. The longing was like a vortex, pulling her inexorably down.
Shaking her head, she said, “When I’m with you, I feel like I know you. I would swear to it. But then I learn things about you that don’t align with who I think you are, and it’s such a mindfuck.”
The entrance door opened, and another student walked out. He looked at both of them and asked, “Everything all right?”
“We’re good, Dak,” she told him with a reassuring smile. “Thanks for checking.”
“See you later.” He headed down the street.
Ronan stood there unmoving, watchful and waiting. “You do know me, Ireland. I’ve never been more honest with anyone. It’s… instinctual with you. It has been from the first.”
“You killed a cop, Ronan,” she whispered, trembling even though it wasn’t cold. It felt damn near psychotic to know something but to feel something else.
His face changed, his features sharpening, his mouth compressing briefly. “I killed the man who murdered my mother. He was also Jules’ and Claudette’s father. Him being a cop had nothing to do with any of it aside from extending my sentence.”
Her lips parted, her breathing shallow.
“I don’t regret it,” he said hotly. “I’d do it again, and I’m only sorry I didn’t do it sooner. Maybe my mother would still be alive today.”
“Oh… My god…” She listed over to the bench outside the studio’s entrance and sat, eventually realizing that she’d been locked with tension all day, fighting herself and grieving what she’d lost. Not so much because Ronan had left, but because she’d thought she never truly knew him.
He sat beside her and stared down at the ground. “I was at Marcelle’s one afternoon. She was putting together a meal for our family. It was the one day of the week when my mother was home. I was fifteen at the time. Jules was six. Claudy was five. Irish twins, they call it, when two siblings are born within the same year.”
The picture of him at that age was fresh in her mind. The hollowed cheeks and eyes. The signs of gross neglect. She wouldn’t ever forget it. It was now an indelible part of him in her memories. “Please don’t say more. I had no right to dig for information you didn’t want me to know.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” he said gravely. “I would have eventually.”
“So, we’ll wait until then.” She reached over and laid her palm on Ronan’s knee. He immediately covered her hand with his, the warmth of his skin making her aware of how cold her fingers were.
The door opened, and three people walked out: two guys and a woman she knew. Ireland jerked her chin in greeting and managed a wan smile.
Taking her hand in both of his, he chafed it to warm her. He caught her gaze and held it, nodding toward the entrance. “Half a dozen cops were working out in there. You detailed my sins for all to hear, but not this one. You didn’t tell Alina about it, either, did you?”
Ireland looked away. She hadn’t allowed herself to examine why she’d kept his past to herself. “Your history is not for me to share.”
“Bullshit. You thought I’d destroyed your business and went home to a secret fiancée, but you kept this terrible thing you knew about me to yourself. You didn’t believe it could be what it sounds like, did you? And you were protecting me, still, as you’ve been doing the whole time.”
She opened her mouth to say something but didn’t know what. She closed it again.
His smile flashed briefly in the shadows, there and then gone. “Except for when I manage to really piss you off. Then you cost me millions and evict me into the street.”
Leaning into her, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, with a long slow exhale, Ireland slouched into the bench. “We’ve got to end this, Ronan.”
He stiffened beside her. “Let me finish explaining.”
“That’s not why.” She squeezed his hand. “I appreciate that you’re willing to save Vidal. I can’t tell you how much, but I will.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It is. And once I get my head on straight, I’ll write you a letter and thank you. But if you really, truly think about it, there’s no way to make this work long-term, and we’re wading in too deep for something that can’t last.”
“Ireland…” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”
She shifted toward him. “You’re just going to come into the offices every day and work side by side with my father, the man you came here to destroy? Just like that?”
His throat worked on a swallow, but he was otherwise motionless. “No. He can’t be involved. In any way. I’ll take his office and figure out the rest with your help and maybe even Christopher’s.”
Straightening, she spoke with resolve. “Are you going to bring Marcelle up here?” she pressed. “And Marie Laveau? What about Jules and Claudette? You all shared a hotel suite. You work together. You’re very close, and I think I understand why now. Do they want to base themselves here? Or are you thinking you’ll commute a few days a week?”
“I don’t have it all figured out yet.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You could travel, too. You love New Orleans.”
“Who doesn’t? It’s unique in all the world.” Like you are . “But you're suggesting we split our lives between two places and two families. If I go down there with you, I’ll strain your relationship with your family. And let’s not get into how my family will react. My brother is coming home tomorrow,” she warned gently. “Christopher will drag Gideon into this first thing.”
People began to file out of the studio in a semi-steady stream.
She stood and felt the stiffness that had begun to settle into her muscles. She’d missed too many days in the studio dealing with work and Ronan—she’d feel it in the morning. She could add those physical aches and pains to the emotional ones she was feeling and be a complete package of misery and suffering.
Ronan stood with her and followed as she walked away from the studio.
“I don’t think we have to look that far ahead, Ireland. We start and end the day together and deal with whatever happens in between as it comes.”
“That sounds like winging it instead of an actionable plan.”
“We’re smart, we’ll figure it out.” His tone was light, but the subtle tension in his body belied his teasing.
“I want you,” Ireland said matter-of-factly, pulling out her phone to order a rideshare pickup. “I haven’t ever wanted anything as badly.”
“Why do I hear a but in there?” he asked gruffly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.
She still couldn’t believe he’d come back to New York, that he’d tracked her down to tell her he was fixing the mess he’d made. But it was too late. It had always been too late.
“But I don’t want to live a life split in two, Ronan,” she finished.
Catching her by the elbow, he stopped her. “You know you can’t pick and choose who you feel this way about. Do you think you’ll find this again? You’re young, cher , but you’re not naive.”
He was angry. Ireland could see it, hear it. And she was angry, too. But at the circumstances, not him. She cupped his face in her hand, then lifted onto her toes to kiss the side of his mouth. His torn lip looked painful, and she regretted hitting him. She hadn’t been herself since she met him, in good and bad ways. And she knew he was acting out of character, too.
Jules thinks I’ve lost my mind, he’d told her.
Ronan caught her by the hips, kissing her back, heedless of his injury.
It felt so wonderful to be with him, near him, kissing him. It was so hard to push away, and he resisted her efforts to do so.
“Stop,” she muttered against his desperate kisses. “Stop. Stop! ”
Wrenching away, Ireland put distance between them, her lips tingling from contact with his. Misery spread like a chilling fog through her chest, making it hard to catch her breath. “I can’t do this, Ronan. It’s too high a price to pay to belong to you.”
His hands were white-knuckled at his sides, but he didn’t pursue her. “You don’t think I’m worth it.”
“You are,” she said, digging deep for the strength to keep backing away. “But I can’t afford you. And once you really think about it, you’ll see the same is true for you, too.”