4. Ronan
Chapter 4
Ronan
The morning frost crunches under my golf shoes as I line up my shot. The sun beats down but provides little warmth against the chill or my thoughts swirling in my head.
I swing the iron, connecting perfectly. The ball soars high over the pristine green.
“Nice shot,” Caleb says, adjusting his gloves as he positions himself to take his shot.
I’ve kept quiet about Lucia. It’s not like I can tell her father, Niall, or my younger brother, Caleb. But I need to talk to someone about how I almost ruined everything by trying to kiss her four days ago.
What the hell was I thinking?
“You’re quieter than normal,” Zander tells me as he picks an iron from the caddy.
It’s been two days since her test results arrived in my inbox, proving she is indeed clean. Not that I expected a different result.
But I know she must be wondering how I’m feeling right now. If I got a result I didn’t like.
I should contact her and continue with the agreement we both signed up for, but I’m still pissed at myself for losing control.
“Did Oscar call you to let you know that Nadia’s gone into labor,” Niall announces, stepping up to take his shot.
No. But I don’t react. My son, Oscar, is a busy hockey player and his wife is an international model. They have quite the hectic life.
Niall doesn’t wait for my response as he takes his shot. His ball hooks left, landing in the rough. “Damn.”
“Another grandchild. I expect a hoard from them.” I smile, genuinely happy. “Which is a wonderful thing, as Amelia just split with her boyfriend, so no grandkids from her anytime soon. And Olivia—” I shake my head. “She’s about to start her final year as a medical student in Boston. Then it’s residency for her, and god only knows how long it’ll be before she has children.”
Zander’s head snaps up. It’s the perfect opening to discuss with my business partner about another club opportunity.
“And how’s the club in New York?” I ask, watching him set up his shot.
Zander used to manage a rival Boston club before he found the New York club and asked me to finance it.
He hits his ball.
“I sent a report through to you. But in brief, profits are up fifteen percent this quarter.” His ball flies straight, landing near the pin.
“Good. Does that mean you could be interested in expanding again? There’s a club in Miami I’ve been watching. Scouted it a few times this past year.”
“What’s the asking price?” Zander’s eyes narrow with interest. He had nothing before I helped him out, now he is as hungry as me.
“Seven million. But the location’s prime, right on South Beach. Some money and care, and we could be running another high income club a month after opening.”
“I don’t know. Miami. It’s dangerous.”
“We’ll hire the best security,” I tell him.
He sighs. “Send me the numbers. If the accounts check out, I could be in.”
“This is a no business game,” Niall interrupts the conversation.
“Only grandkids,” I tease as we jump in the buggy.
The golf buggy bounces over a slight bump as we head to the next hole. Niall shifts in his seat beside me, clearing his throat.
“Did you hear about Lucia splitting with Jack?”
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. Of course I know. I’ve known for weeks.
Niall doesn’t notice my back shackling at the mention of her name. “She’s stupid to let him go. He was perfect for her.”
“Amelia told me he cheated on her.” I park the buggy near the next tee. “Multiple times.”
“He’s a stockbroker.” Niall steps out, club in hand. “He could’ve given her a good life. I’m trying to get them back together. Told her to give him another chance.”
“He cheated.” The muscle in my jaw ticks. “And maybe it’s time you butted out of her life. She’s twenty-seven years old.”
“And what? Be single and miserable like you?” Niall’s lips curl into a sneer.
The club nearly snaps in my grip. Blood pounds in my ears, but I try to remain calm as I stare at Niall.
“That’s way out of line,” Zander steps between us, his voice sharp. “You need to apologize to Ronan.”
Fury courses through my veins and I could say so much to him right now. The man who claims to want the best for his daughter is trying to push her back into the arms of a cheating bastard.
But that’s because he’s the same kind of man.“
He doesn’t. I’m happy as I am. It could be worse.” I spin to Niall. “I could be married and miserable like you.”
“I have a very contended marriage,” he lies.
My teeth grind together as I fight to maintain control. “And I’m a billionaire.” Another lie. I’m rich, but I’m no billionaire.
“I’d be happy to be a dollar behind you,” Caleb says.
“You should be proud of Lucia. It’s quite admirable that she chose self respect and not money.” I can’t reveal how much I know about Lucia’s life, but I know enough from my daughter, Amelia.
“More the fool her,” her dad adds.
“I wouldn’t care how much money my daughter’s boyfriends have.” My voice drops low, dangerous. “As far as I’m concerned, a man who can’t keep his dick in his pants doesn’t deserve a second chance.”
“It was just a mistake—” Niall starts.
“Three times isn’t a mistake.” The words rip from my throat. “It’s a pattern.”
Niall’s face reddens. “And what would you know about relationships?”
The question hits like a punch to the gut. Here I am, planning to sleep with his daughter while criticizing another man’s morals. But this is different. Lucia and I have an agreement. No promises. No lies.
She turned me down twice before accepting.
The realization clicks. If she wanted my money, she would’ve jumped at the first offer. Instead, she fought it. Fought me.
“Look,” Zander steps forward. “This conversation is headed nowhere good. Why don’t we skip the back nine and grab a beer instead?”
“Best suggestion I’ve heard all morning.” Caleb’s already packing away his clubs. “And next week, you both need to take some chill pills.”
I exhale slowly, unclenching my fists. “Beer sounds good.”
“Fine.” Niall tosses his club into his bag with more force than necessary. “But I’m done discussing my daughter’s future. It’s nobody’s business.”
“Including yours.” I load my clubs into the buggy. “Lucia’s future is her business, not yours.”
The tension crackles between us as we pile into our respective buggies. Zander catches my eye, giving me a questioning look. I shake my head.
Not now.
We head back to the clubhouse in silence, the morning sun doing nothing to warm the ice in my veins. I need that beer. Need to forget about Lucia’s father and his outdated views on relationships. Her relationships.
I also need to know why I am being so damn defensive of a lady who’s supposed to be nothing more than a business arrangement.
But my mind keeps drifting to Lucia, to the softness of her skin, to how close I came to taste those lips.
At that moment, I wanted her–I can’t risk it again.
I need to get my head straight before I see her again.
I lean against the bar, watching the virgin auction unfold on my stage.
“Ninety thousand,” a voice calls from the darkness.
I don’t look his way. I’m too busy looking at the stage.
The girl standing there reminds me of Lucia - same dark hair, same uncertain smile. But this one’s younger, more na?ve. Her white dress clings to her curves as her hands rest on her thighs.
The scent of expensive cologne mingles with leather, sex, and desperation.
Another paddle catches my eyes. “One hundred thousand.”
“One twenty.”
Money means nothing to these men. They’ll pay whatever it takes to claim innocence. Perhaps make her his forever. Mostly, he’ll never see her again.
Crystal glasses clink beside me, ice cubes shifting in nervous glasses. The sound of paddles lifting into the air comes faster now.
My club specializes in these auctions. I agree that the Hunter Valley is not as flashy as New York, but it’s more discreet and this club is definitely more profitable.
Every month, they come. Every month, the bidding gets higher because of the way I operate. Every girl and the bidder’s name is kept a secret. The document I get everyone to sign is to protect not only them, but me and my clubs.
Lucia knows all about the legalities of the club. She’s advised me about some amendments she thought should be added to the contracts herself. Probably why she was shocked to sign an NDA. Perhaps not.
“Two hundred thousand.”
The girl’s hands tremble. Just like Lucia’s hands did in my office when she stripped for me. My cock hardens at the memory, her vulnerability, her eyes as they searched mine.
I’ve wanted her since that weekend in Florida. Before then, if I’m honest, but since I watched her laugh with my grandchild by the pool, her green bikini leaving little to imagination, I’ve never been able to get her out of my mind. And when she touched my thigh–
The paddle lifts again. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
Gasps come from the room. We’ve had higher bids. One reached just under one million dollars only three months ago.
The compere starts the countdown, asking for any further bids.
The room goes silent as anticipation swirls in the room, everyone waiting for the gavel to drop.
The girl on the stage looks nervous despite the rising smile forming on her face. I don’t blame her. And when the gavel slams on the compere’s hand, that smile breaks out so wide her jaw will ache.
I smile too. Of course I do. I just made thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars banked just from her.
I love that I increased my percentage to fifteen percent. And tonight, I have fifteen more girls waiting to go onto the stage.
But my mind isn’t on the girls in the wings, it’s on Lucia.
I want her.
I wanted to kiss her.
But I know she deserves better than this arrangement. Better than me. She should be with someone younger, someone who’ll give her the white picket fence dream. Not a jaded bastard who runs sex clubs and can’t love. A man who can’t feel.
After we’re done, she’ll marry some hotshot lawyer. Have two perfect babies. Live her happily ever after.
I hope my money gives her the confidence to stay away from her ex.
My stomach twists. The thought of her with another man makes bile rise in my throat. Makes me want to punch something. Someone.
I drain my whiskey, ice cubes rattling against my teeth as I suck on the last of the alcohol. This possessive feeling isn’t part of our deal. It isn’t something I’m allowed to feel.
But I do.
And honestly, I don’t think I can stop it.
“Whiskey,” I say to the barman. Hating the sound of aggression in my tone.
He slides a tumbler of amber liquid across to me as I wait for the next girl to come onto the stage. But I can’t watch another auction. Not tonight. Leaving my drink on the bar, I stride away.
The elevator doors slide open and as I step inside, my phone buzzes. My ex-wife Jen’s name flashes on the screen. It’s the third time today and like before, I could ignore her, but I don’t.
I groan as I punch the button on the elevator panel for my private floor and then swipe to answer. “Hello.”
“Have you heard? Oscar and Nadia’s baby is here.” Jen’s voice carries that familiar excited tone. “And it’s a girl. They’re calling her Callie.”
“That’s wonderful.” Pride swells in my chest. My son, a father again.
“Will you come to Niall and Patrice’s on Sunday? Everyone’s gathering to meet her.”
I lean against the elevator wall. “I’ll stop by when I can.”
“We could be civil, Ronan. Share some memories.”
“I’m always civil, Jen. You’re the one who threw wine in my face at the charity gala.”
The elevator doors open to my suite. The same place where Lucia was, her skin glowing under the dim lights. I shake the image away.
“That was different,” Jen says. “I was angry about—”
“We can be civil.” I cut her off.
“Good. Then we can have a pleasant chat about old times at the Simmons’.”
I cannot think anything could be worse.
I end the call, turning the phone over in my hands as I stare at the place Lucia kneeled when my cock was inside of her mouth.
I want it again.
I want her again.
But truth be known, I’m terrified of how she makes me feel.
But like my fingers have a mind of their own, they find Lucia’s contact information. My thumb hovers, ready to call her. To explain my actions. Or lack of.
Instead, I don’t call her.
I send her a message: Tomorrow. Be at the club at six.
And then I hit send before I can change my mind.
When I look back, I realize this was the moment I knew I was screwed.