Chapter Nineteen
CIARA
I’m halfway through stirring sugar into my coffee in the hopes of making it taste better when Ronan stalks into the kitchen without so much as a good morning. Not that I’d expect him to act nice after what happened between us last night, but the silence still feels heavy between us.
His eyes weigh on me as I load my breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, but I refrain from glancing over my shoulder at him.
If he’s waiting for me to apologize for slapping him, then he’ll be waiting a long damn time. He deserved a hell of a lot worse for what he said about my father.
Just thinking about the conversation has my blood boiling, so I snatch up my coffee mug. It’s best to lock myself in my room if Ronan’s planning on hanging around the house today.
When I turn around, he’s leaning against the island, his arms folded and a deep crease between his eyebrows.
His all-black attire only adds to his dark cloud of a mood, although for a brief second, I let myself admire his broad frame and the swell of biceps that look as if they’re about to burst through the material of his shirt.
“I’ve decided to let you try.” His tone is clipped.
I blink out of my fantasy and force my eyes to meet his. “Try what?”
He fixes me with that unreadable stare that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “Working for me.”
I almost drop my coffee mug. “Are you serious?”
He nods once, though the muscle in his jaw ticks, which tells me he’s not doing this out of guilt for what he said last night.
What on earth could Ronan Sullivan need my help for?
“You said you wanted something to do, but first I want you to prove you can be useful.” He pushes off the counter and strides to the coffee machine. “So, you’ll start tomorrow.”
I turn to face him, clutching my mug between my hands like it’s a lifeline. “What made you change your mind?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just grabs himself a mug and pours a black coffee as if we’re not in the middle of an important conversation that could potentially shift our marriage dynamic.
“Ronan.”
He ignores me again as he takes a sip of his drink.
“Seriously?” I scoff.
“I said you could start tomorrow. Don’t push it.”
This is so typical of him, acting like he’s offering me some huge favor that should have me falling to my knees in gratitude.
“Fine. What’s the job?”
“I’ll give you something minor to start with.” He sets down his mug and faces me. “If you prove yourself useful and trustworthy, we’ll see about giving you an actual job title.”
My pride bristles at his condescending tone, but I plaster a smile on my face regardless. “Thank you. For taking a chance on me.”
His eyes flicker at the sarcasm under the surface of my words, but he doesn’t call it out. Instead, he finishes his coffee and leaves the room without another word.
As soon as his footsteps fade, I exhale as the house turns silent once more.
Working for Ronan as well as being married to him sounds like a recipe for disaster, but this might be the only way I can earn his trust, which is essential if I have any hope of finding anything I can use to take him down.
A family like the Sullivans doesn’t build this kind of empire without breaking a few rules, and tomorrow, I can officially start digging.
I’m due to meet Mila for coffee in the city in an hour, so after showering and getting ready, I head back downstairs and open up my phone, ready to order an Uber, seeing as my car wasn’t one of the personal belongings Ronan thought would be necessary to have brought over here.
His heavy footsteps approach.
“Speak of the devil…”
He frowns. “Where are you going?”
His gaze trails over my outfit with such intensity that my cheeks heat. It’s a slightly warm day, so I chose a white tennis skirt and a cropped pink sweater and pink Converse, but the way Ronan is looking at me makes me forget that I’m wearing clothes at all.
I shrug. “Out.”
Ronan folds his arms, and the muscles in his forearms flex.
“Where?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
One moment, he’s ordering me to go out and get a facial or whatnot, and the next, he’s acting like I’m committing a prison break. I swear, I can’t keep up with his moods.
“I’m having coffee with Mila in the city.” I type in the address of the coffee shop on my app.
“And what, were you planning on walking there?”
I glance up and scowl at Ronan. “Actually, I was planning on partaking in a little grand theft auto.”
Surprisingly, the corner of his lips twitch, and heat pools in my lower belly.
Sometimes, he acts like such a robot that I forget he’s capable of human expressions like smiling.
“I’m going to take an Uber.” I wave my phone at him, but from the way Ronan’s jaw tightens, that’s apparently the wrong answer.
“Come with me.” He tilts his head in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’d rather not.”
“It isn’t optional.”
I let out a huff, but my curiosity gets the better of me, so I follow behind him as he leads me into the kitchen and to a coded door tucked away beside the pantry.
“This better not be your sex dungeon.”
He chuckles under his breath, and my own lips twitch as he punches in the code.
“That’s upstairs,” he says over his shoulder at me.
His dark eyes are molten as he looks at me, and I instantly regret not keeping my mouth shut because suddenly, all I can picture is Ronan tying me to a bed and fucking me like he owns me.
I choke on my breath at the image, which brings another deep chuckle from him.
He gives me a knowing look, as if he can read my thoughts, before pushing the door open with his shoulder.
“What’s in here, then?” My throat is suddenly painfully dry.
“The garage.” He holds the door open for me.
My eyes almost bug out of their sockets as I move past him, careful not to brush against his chest, and stare at the array of vehicles lined up inside, each one likely costing well over six figures.
Even at our peak wealth, my family never owned anything close to this. There’s everything from blacked-out SUVs to sports cars that look like they should be in a Bond movie.
“It’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?” I walk over to a particularly impressive steel-gray Aston Martin.
I hate that I’m impressed, but I’ve always been a sucker for shiny things.
Ronan rolls his eyes before walking to a lockbox containing all of the keys.
I glance at him as he sifts through them before picking a set.
“Take this one.” He hands me the keys to the black Range Rover.
“Are you giving me a car?” My chin could hit the floor right now.
“I’m giving you temporary permission to borrow a car.”
I scrunch my nose as I glance around the impressive array of options. “Can’t I borrow something a little less…boring?”
Ronan’s dark brows shoot up as he looks down at me. “Excuse me?”
“You know, something that doesn’t scream trophy wife. A Range Rover is a little on the nose, don’t you think?”
“Take the damn car, Ciara, before I change my mind.”
“If you insist…”
After listening to Ronan’s long debriefing about how he expects me to drive, I’m running late for my coffee date with Mila.
I park outside the cozy, hole-in-the-wall café with its mismatched chairs and heavenly pastry selection, and Mila is already seated when I walk in, sipping on something green and foamy.
“Please tell me that’s not kale.” I take the seat opposite her and set my purse and keys on the table.
She grins as she sets down her drink. “It’s matcha, it has lots of great antioxidants.”
“Sounds like sadness in a cup.”
Mila shakes her head as she tucks her dark hair behind her ears. To prove a point, when the waitress appears, I order a chocolate croissant and a chai latte.
“So…” Mila starts once we’re alone again. “How’s married life?”
“Like being held hostage in a five-star hotel.”
She chuckles as she picks up her drink and takes another sip.
“No, seriously. It’s weird. The house is gorgeous, and the kitchen looks like something out of Architectural Digest, but everything feels so…sterile. I’m terrified to do much more than make coffee.”
“It’s barely been a week since you moved in. Give it time.”
The waitress serves my drink and food, and I eagerly take a bite of the croissant, swallowing a moan at the buttery taste.
“I asked Ronan if I could work for him.” I wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “He refused at first, but this morning, he said we could try it out. He’s giving me something small to begin with, but it’s a start.”
Mila raises an eyebrow. “A start to what? Being the perfect mafia wife? Or uncovering the Sullivans’ dirty secrets?”
I smirk as I sip on my drink. “The latter.”
Mila sighs as she leans back in her seat. “Ciara…”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then maybe listen this time.”
“Ronan is dangerous and arrogant, which is not a good mix. He thinks he’s invincible, and I want to prove him wrong.”
“Or you’re going to get yourself killed trying.” All amusement is gone from her face.
A chill runs through me, but I shrug it off. “He’s not going to kill me. I’m his wife.”
“Which makes you a liability if you betray him.”
“I don’t care.” I pick at my croissant.
Mila leans in, lowering her voice even more so as not to be overheard. “Look, I get it. Your father’s gone, and your family's legacy is ruined. You want someone to blame—”
“I don’t want someone to blame. I already know who’s to blame.”
“Do you, though?”
“I hate him,” I hiss through my teeth as I think of my father. “Seriously, he’s insufferable. Not to mention cold and condescending. He walks around like he owns everything, including me.”
I look up to find Mila’s gray eyes twinkling as she sips on her matcha.
“What?”
“You’re putting a lot of effort into convincing me.”
“Convincing you of what?”
“That you hate him.”
“I do.”
“Okay.”
I frown as Mila’s lips twitch at the corners. “Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?”
“Because usually when someone repeats something that often, they’re trying to convince themselves.”
“Oh, come on.” I scoff. “That’s ridiculous. There’s nothing between us.”
“Except the fact that you married him.”
“It’s a business arrangement!”
“If you say so...”
I run my fingers through my hair as I swallow a groan. “He's a Sullivan, which makes him the enemy.”
“But does the enemy make your knees weak?”
I shoot her a look, which only makes her chuckle as she raises her drink in a mock toast.
“That’s what I thought.”
I sigh as I lean back in my chair and glance at the car keys on the table, thinking of Ronan.
Truth be told, Mila’s not entirely wrong. There is a pull between Ronan and me that grows stronger every time I’m around him. It’s simmering just beneath the surface of every argument, every stare, every stupid, charged silence that passes between us.
But none of that matters because I can’t act on it.
If I start seeing Ronan as anything more than an obstacle, I’ll lose sight of what I’m actually doing, and that could be the most dangerous mistake of all.