Chapter 11 Ronan
Chapter Eleven
RONAN
I can’t wait for this night to be over.
The laughter around me is hollow as Brennan rattles on about some girl he met in Miami last month, and the words “hot tub” and “getting caught” ensure it’s time to refill my drink.
I’ve lost count of how many I’ve had tonight, but the alcohol is essential in order for me to plaster a fake-ass smile on my face while I hold court with a bunch of my father’s associates.
I might have been ready to take over the family business from the moment I hit my mid-teens, but I figured I’d have a few more decades to log before it was my turn to step up from my da.
He’s barely been gone a week, and it’s as if stepping into his shoes has erased him completely.
Soon enough, I’m going to forget what his voice sounds like, and that scares the hell out of me.
As I sit back down at the table with my fresh drink, Kieran snorts into his own, and Lorcan cracks a smile at something Brennan has said.
Even Cormac has an amused glint in his eyes.
But I don’t dare ask what they’re talking about.
Knowing my youngest brother, it’s either something sexual or illegal, maybe both.
I sip the amber liquid, trying not to let it show that I’m seconds away from flipping this table and walking out.
Somehow, despite Ciara’s reluctance, I managed to pull this union off and cement my family’s status while also giving the press something shiny and new to focus on.
So, I should feel something at getting through the ceremony.
A sense of accomplishment or perhaps even relief.
But all I feel is tired and seriously pissed off.
Kieran clocks my bad mood from across the table and raises his brows at me. “You alright? You look like someone pissed in your drink.”
Saying nothing, I sneak a glance around the room.
I haven’t seen Ciara in a while, which isn’t helping my mood. I swear, if she’s decided to make a run for it…
Brennan nudges me with his elbow from beside me and offers me one of his shit-eating grins. “Jesus, Ronan, cheer up! Today is your wedding day, not your damn funera—”
The word hangs heavy in the air between us as we’re all simultaneously transported back to our father’s graveside.
The laughter instantly dissipates, and each one of us lifts our drinks to our lips to try to numb the pain.
Every time I close my eyes, his voice sounds in my head.
She deserves happiness, Ronan.
And every time I look at her, this beautiful and furious woman I’ve just tied myself to, I know I’ve already failed him.
My wife has barely spoken two words to me all night, which only worsens my mood. At least at dinner the other night, she fought back, but it seems her spark is starting to die out.
The moment I slid that ring on her finger, I could see in her green eyes that she hates me, and honestly? I don’t blame her.
Cormac gets to his feet and heads straight over to the bar to get us all a refill.
“Sorry,” Brennan mutters. “That was a dumb thing to say.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“It feels wrong that he’s not here.”
My chest heaves as I glance around the packed ballroom, knowing my father’s face is one I’m never going to see again. Instead, my gaze lands on Ciara as she stalks toward our table, her expression cold as her eyes look everywhere but at me.
With each step, her hips sway in that tight-fitting dress that clings to her like a second skin, and I bite back a groan.
I can’t even be mad at the extortionate bill she racked up at the bridal store the other day. Not when she looks like a fucking goddess in that dress. Part of me thinks she chose it just to spite me, but if she could hear the filthy thoughts swarming around my head, she’d be bitterly disappointed.
I subtly adjust myself as I try not to focus on the swell of her breasts as she approaches the table, wearing that stubborn little frown that makes me want to push her buttons and wind her up even more.
“Hello, wife.”
Ciara doesn’t even look at me. Not even a quick glance to acknowledge my existence.
Fuck. She’s angrier than I thought.
She tucks a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, doing her best to act nonchalant, despite the fact that everyone’s eyes are on her and have been since the moment she started walking down the aisle.
Including my own.
“Can I talk to you?” Her voice is clipped as she continues to avoid my gaze.
“You don’t need to ask permission.”
Her body tenses.
I frown. “But yes, of course.”
I get to my feet, leaving my half-finished drink on the table, and follow her to a spot in the corner of the room, away from prying ears, my eyes glued to her ass the entire time.
“Can we leave now?” She whirls around so quickly that I almost walk straight into her.
I smirk, unable to help myself. “Are you that eager to get me alone?”
I tuck my hands into my pockets as I wait for her reply.
Finally, her gaze snaps to mine. “Not even a little. I just want to get out of this dress.”
I glance down at the curve of her waist, eyeing the silk that is pulled so tight across her body that it looks like it was sewn on. “I can help with that if you like.”
For a second, she falters, as if she’s picturing what it would be like to have me undress her. But then her expression turns cold once more.
“You’d be the last person I’d ever ask for help.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug. Two can do nonchalance. “But if you’re trying to turn me off, it’s not working.”
Her jaw clenches. “Are we going or not?”
There she is, my little firecracker.
“We will if you answer me one question.”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t fight me, for once.
“Why did you choose that dress?” I purposefully let my eyes flick down her body.
When I meet her gaze once more, a slight pink blush coats her cheeks, and my lips pull up at the corners.
“Because it was the most expensive.”
My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
Does she really think I’m that stupid?
“Try again.”
Ciara rolls her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest, once again drawing my attention to the soft swells of her tits. “Because it fit me, and I didn’t have time to get it altered.”
“You and I both know I could have paid for a tailor to alter it on short notice. So, try again.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“The sooner you answer my question, the sooner we can get out of here, Tine Bheag.”
Her blush deepens as she looks down at her dress, brushing her hands over the silk skirt. “I chose it because I thought it would torture you the most.”
My eyebrows shoot up at her answer. “Torture me, huh?”
I take a step closer to her.
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t back away.
“That would imply that I’m attracted to you.”
She stays quiet, though her cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink.
I shouldn’t wind her up, but getting any sort of reaction out of Ciara is better than being completely ignored.
Bending down so my lips are barely an inch from her ear, I take pride in the way her breath catches at my closeness.
“I have a feeling it might be the other way around,” I whisper before pulling away.
“You really are full of yourself.”
“And you’re easier to read than you think, sweetheart. But if it makes you feel better, your ass looks incredible in that dress.”
She looks like she’s fighting the urge to slap me around the face. “You’re disgusting.”
“The blush on your cheeks tells me you think otherwise.” I take another step closer.
All it would take is for Ciara to take a deep breath for her breasts to brush against my chest.
My cock starts to thicken at the mere thought. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She stiffens as I reach for her hand, more out of instinct than anything, and she tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip just enough to remind her who’s in charge here.
“Do you really want to fight me on this? Because I’ll happily carry you out of here over my shoulder and let the press have a field day.”
Her glare could cut glass, but her hand relaxes in mine, and she doesn’t try to pull away again as I lead her across the ballroom toward my brothers’ table so I can say goodnight to them.
When we reach them, I’m still holding tight to Ciara’s hand. “We’re heading off.”
“Lightweights.” Brennan laughs, lounging back in his chair, his arm slung across the back of Cormac’s.
Kieran smirks. “I think they just want to get their honeymoon started.”
Ciara stiffens at my side.
I instinctively tighten my fingers around hers before she has a chance to pull away.
“I trust that you’ll keep up appearances?” I look specifically at Kieran, who scowls.
“We’ll continue to kiss the asses of these fuckers if that’s what you mean.”
“While you kiss Ciara’s,” Brennan chimes in, which has the pair of them howling with laughter.
“Watch your mouth.” I don’t need to look at Ciara to know she’s fuming.
Before my brothers can say anything else, I pull her away and lead her to the exit.
“Sorry about them,” I mutter under my breath.
“Just know that my hand is the only part of me you’re touching tonight,” she hisses under her breath.
I can’t help but chuckle at her words.
She really is cute when she tries to bite back.
My driver, Jack, is waiting for us outside the hotel. He dips his chin at me before opening up the back door, and I step aside to let Ciara slide in.
Though, she looks even more displeased when I decide to sit beside her.
If she’s this pissed about having to share a backseat with me, how is she going to act when she realizes I’m moving her into my family’s estate in Washington Heights?
I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
She doesn’t speak as the car weaves through the late-night traffic. She simply stares out of the window, her arms crossed, the tension radiating off her in waves.
I give her a few minutes to sit with her thoughts, but I’m not built for silence, at least not with her.
I look over at her. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“Don’t.” She keeps her focus on the passing traffic.
“Don’t what?”
“Try to be charming. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I disagree.”
“I don’t care.”
“Liar.” A smirk tugs at my lips.
She finally looks at me then, with fire in her green eyes. “You really think everything is a game, don’t you?”
“Only the parts worth playing.”
“Congratulations, then. You’ve won.”
That lands harder than I expect.
This time, it’s my turn to look away, my jaw tight. “No one wins here, Ciara.”
Tonight was about nothing other than survival, and we both did what we had to do. But damn if I don’t wish being with Ciara felt a little less like war.