Chapter Seventeen
CIARA
It's been less than three days since Ronan Sullivan became my husband, and I’m already bored out of my goddamned mind.
Honestly, I thought being his wife would at least bring me a little entertainment, even if we do nothing but argue, but the asshole is never home. Not that I want him home, of course, because I can’t seem to be trusted when he’s around.
Images of his naked, powerful body in the bath with me flash through my mind, and I almost drop my coffee mug.
This is exactly why I need a job, or at least something that can keep my mind busy long enough that I can stop fantasizing about Ronan every second of the day.
He might never be around, but his presence is everywhere. It makes it hard to admire how beautiful this house is when all I can picture is him.
He sure does know how to worm his way into my mind. I can picture his satisfied smirk now, knowing I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good his tongue felt on my pussy for the best part of two days.
I groan as I take my coffee and head upstairs to my room, the one place in this house that feels like mine.
Every room I pass is just as immaculate and cold as the last, and I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched, as if the walls are talking to each other, or rather to Ronan.
My time might be my own, but with nothing to fill it with, it makes me feel more and more like a prisoner in a gilded cage. I’m afraid to touch anything in case I leave a mark.
The last of my things from home arrived this morning, so I distract myself by unpacking.
Part of me is genuinely surprised that Ronan didn’t just ship me off back home once we were married. After all, this was nothing but a business deal, so I didn’t actually think he wanted me living in his home.
Yet, as I sit on the plush carpet of my room, surrounded by my books and clothes, the last of my old life slips away. Every item of clothing, every piece of jewelry feels like a relic from a life I no longer recognize. One where I was free and my father was still alive.
Just as tears threaten to fall, my phone buzzes among the piles of clothes.
I hastily wipe my eyes and clear my throat before digging around for my phone.
It’s Mila calling. We’ve only exchanged a handful of texts since the wedding as she’s been busy with work, so I eagerly swipe my thumb across the screen, and her smiling face appears.
“So, have you killed him yet?”
“Not yet.” I give her a tired smile as I climb to my feet and move to sit on the bed. “But the fantasy is alive and well.”
“I’m sorry you had to do this.” She sets her phone down as she busies herself with making food.
The sight of her familiar kitchen starts an ache in my chest.
I should be there with her right now, enjoying a plate of pancakes after a night of drinking wine and watching old rom-coms. Not stuck here in this ridiculous house while I wait for my husband to come home.
“Yeah, well, join the club.”
“You okay?”
I glance around the room, my throat thickening at the sight of my empty suitcases. “As okay as I can be, considering I’m living in the lair of a glorified mob prince.”
“At least, he’s hot.”
I snort. “That’s irrelevant.”
“So, you do think he’s hot, then?” Mila grins, and I roll my eyes.
She’s only teasing me to cheer me up, but I’m really not in the mood to discuss Ronan.
Everything else in my life seems to revolve around him, and this friendship feels like the only tether I have to my old life, and right now I’m holding on for dear life.
“Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m just saying, if I was forced into marrying a mafia boss, I’d be taking every opportunity to admire every inch of muscle, and I mean every inch.”
“Jesus, Mila.”
“What? If I’m going to live vicariously through your mafia bride era, I need to know the level of villain-to-lover potential I’m working with.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.
“Trust me, he’s all villain.”
“Oh, so that’s how he’s playing it.”
“Mila—”
“You know what I mean. Dangerous men who only get soft for one woman? That shit is like crack to me.”
I groan as I flop back onto the bed. “You’ve been reading too much dark romance. And there’s nothing soft about Ronan Sullivan.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” There’s a beat of silence before her voice softens. “Seriously, though… Are you doing okay?”
I close my eyes and let out a long breath. “Some days are better than others.”
“And Ronan, is he—”
“Controlling? Intense? Arrogant?”
Confusing.
“So, what are you meant to do all day? Is he letting you work?”
“No, but I want to ask. I used to do the accounting for my father’s side businesses, and I know I could handle Ronan’s if he’d let me. But right now, it seems like he just wants me to sit around and wait for him.”
“Maybe he wants you under him. Sometimes, on top.”
I let out a loud, surprised laugh. “Christ, Mila.”
“Just trying to keep the mood light.” She chuckles.
“Well, mission accomplished. But I am not playing housewife, and I sure as hell am not sleeping with him.”
“Right…” She gives me a knowing look. “That’s totally believable.”
I roll my eyes, hoping she doesn’t see the guilt written all over my face.
If I tell Mila the truth about my wedding night, I won’t hear the end of it, which isn’t helpful when I’m trying to forget it ever happened.
“I’ll ask him eventually. About the job.”
“And if he says no?”
“Then I’ll find another way.”
After chatting for another twenty minutes, I arrange to meet Mila at our favorite coffee place tomorrow. Knowing I have something planned outside the house lifts my mood, but it doesn’t last long once the call ends and I’m once again alone.
I make myself yet another cup of coffee, just for something to do, before heading into the enormous TV room.
The plush leather armchairs are ridiculously comfortable, and the screen is the size of a movie theatre. But even a film isn’t enough to cure my boredom.
I’m restless and on edge, twitchy as each second ticks by until Ronan comes home.
Maybe it’s because he’s so unpredictable. I mean, one minute we’re ripping into each other, and the next his eyes turn molten as he promises to join me in the bath. Each night, I have no idea which version of him I’m going to get, which both infuriates and thrills me at the same time.
Ignoring the film on the screen, I open my phone and mindlessly scroll through my pictures. It’s mostly just selfies of Mila and me in various club bathrooms, and I chuckle to myself as I relive the memories.
That is, until I come across a familiar thumbnail of a video from my twenty-first birthday a few years ago.
My breath catches in my throat as I press play, and my father’s face fills the screen, his cheeks flushed from the wine and his green eyes sparkling with pride.
“I’m so proud of you, baby girl.” He raises a glass. “The world is at your feet, Ciara, and wherever your journey takes you, I want you to remember that you’re strong, smart, and fierce as hell, just like your mother.”
My eyes sting, and I blink hard, but the tears fall anyway.
“I miss you,” I whisper, hugging the phone to my chest. “So much.”
My father was everything to me. He wasn’t just my protector. He was my anchor. No matter what, he’d always be there to pick me up when I fell down.
But the Sullivans took him from me, and how do I honor my father’s memory?
By marrying one of them.
Wiping my face, I sit up, anger starting to replace the ache in my chest.
I’ve wasted the whole day wallowing, but not anymore. I’m not here to be Ronan’s plaything. I’m here because I had no choice, but I’ll be damned if I don’t use the opportunity to take him down.
The first place I decide to look through is Ronan’s office, but to my annoyance, the door is locked, and I have a feeling it will take a lot more than a hairpin to get inside.
“Crap.” I slam my hand against the door.
I’m under no illusion that there are plenty of secrets hidden inside, but it’ll be pretty obvious I’ve been snooping if Ronan comes home to find I’ve broken down the door, so I need to try a different angle.
I need to think.
Ronan is a smart man, but this is his home after all, the one place he allows himself to relax. He might think he doesn’t let anything slide through the cracks, but I’m sure if I look hard enough, I can find something.
Abandoning the office, I head back upstairs and along the hall until I come to Ronan’s room. I’ve not been back here since the night of the wedding, and the sight of the enormous double bed heats my blood.
This is exactly what Ronan wants. He wants me distracted by my own needs so I forget who and what he is.
A monster.
Fueled by rage, I start digging through the nightstands, pulling open the drawers and sifting through the contents.
There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just some deodorant, an empty notebook, a pair of cufflinks, and a string of condoms in the very back.
I might not have seen him naked, but I definitely saw how much he was packing beneath his pants the other night, and my mouth goes painfully dry as I picture Ronan kneeling before me, his enormous cock in his hand as he slides a condom over it—
“Oh, hell no!” I slam the drawer shut.
I move to the dressing room next and start rifling through his clothes.
Every item is impeccable and ironed to perfection. He has tailored suits in shades of navy, charcoal, and black, shelves of expensive watches, and rows of polished shoes.
I pull out the drawers and find stacks of black t-shirts, workout shorts, and jogging pants. But as much as I try to keep my focus, Ronan has my mind well and truly in the gutter.
As I trace my fingers over the material, my pulse skyrockets as I picture him all sweaty and out of breath, and what his naked body would look like in the shower as the water cascades over his broad back.
My fingers twitch at the thought of touching his bare skin, even though I hate that I allowed myself to lower my guard long enough to bare my entire body to him the other night.
He saw every part of me, yet I saw nothing of him.
The only evidence that he’d lost any ounce of control was his hardness straining against the zipper of his pants.
I can’t deny the asshole is good. He played me well. So well, in fact, that I didn’t even realize until I was left naked and aching with need.
Well, he’s had his fun, and now it’s my turn.