Chapter Twenty-Two
CIARA
I’m starting to regret asking Ronan for a job, and not because he’s technically my enemy, but because sitting across the desk from him and watching as he types away on his laptop is doing things to my body that, quite honestly, should embarrass me.
Watching his fingers move across the keyboard has me subtly crossing my thighs and trying not to remember what those thick fingers felt like as they pumped inside me.
Not only that, but his light blue shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, exposing those powerful forearms, and my mouth all but waters.
I force my attention back to the notebook in my lap, trying to pretend that last night didn’t happen, but that’s not exactly easy when I still feel the ghost of Ronan’s body everywhere, especially between my legs.
I expected sex with Ronan to be rough, but what I didn’t expect was how much I would enjoy it. Being completely at his mercy brought me to climax so hard I’m surprised I didn’t pass out from the pleasure.
He wrecked me, and every time I shift in my chair, I’m reminded of how he claimed me.
Of how much I wanted it.
Of how much I still want it.
I’m pathetic.
"Are you listening?" His deep voice cuts through my thoughts, and I blink.
"Huh? Oh, yeah…sorry."
He narrows his eyes at me, but if he sees guilt written on my face, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns his laptop around so I can see the screen.
"You're just entering payment records to start with.” He clicks on a folder and opens up a spreadsheet. “It’s nothing complicated. All you need to do is check the vendor name, date, amount, and the reference code and then cross-check it with the invoices in this folder."
He places his hand on the stack of paperwork beside the computer, and I’m momentarily distracted by the muscles of his forearms flexing.
I swear he’s doing this on purpose.
“Sounds easy enough,” I mutter.
"A trained monkey could do it."
I bristle at his words, and Ronan smirks.
Bastard.
I scribble down a few notes in my notebook to make it look like I'm taking this very seriously, but I can’t ignore my disappointment at the reality of this job. I thought it might give me real access to information I could use, but instead, Ronan has given me nothing but busywork.
But I should have known better than to think he’d trust me, especially after the way he caught me snooping through his things the other day.
My face burns at the memory.
I can’t believe I got caught red-handed like a damn amateur.
I glance up under my lashes, and sure enough, Ronan’s watching me with something like knowing in his eyes.
He knew what I was trying to do, and he's making damn sure I can’t do it again.
My pulse quickens, but I can’t bring myself to look away.
His dark eyes search my own, as if he’s looking for something in particular, but his phone buzzes, and he looks away, and I release the breath I’d been holding.
He glances at the screen and frowns, his lips pressing together in a thin line.
“What is it?” I ask, desperate to break the silence.
"Meeting." He shoves the phone into his pocket and stands. "You’ll be okay here?"
"I'm not an idiot.” I roll my eyes.
His brows lift, and for a second, I think he might say something, but he only nods.
"Use that laptop for now. I'll get you one of your own this week."
The words are clipped and formal, but his eyes linger on me longer than necessary, as if he’s fighting the urge to stay.
“Remember, Mila’s coming over this afternoon.” I snap my notebook shut. “The security guys aren’t going to give her any hassle?”
“That’s up to her.” He heads over to the door.
I watch him leave, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach as the door clicks shut and I'm left alone.
For a moment, I let myself wonder if perhaps last night is replaying in his mind too…
I hope it is, if only to make him suffer. Because I refuse to let myself have such a huge lapse in judgment again.
From now on, Ronan will just have to make do with his hand because he sure as hell isn’t getting any from me.
The data entry is just as mind-numbing as I expected, and I finish the task in less than half an hour. I was hoping it would serve as a better distraction from my filthy thoughts, but no. If anything, they’ve only gotten worse.
By the time I click save and close the spreadsheet, my body is practically vibrating with restless energy. This work is a complete waste of my skills, and Ronan knows that, but I doubt that doing some data entry is going to show him what I’m truly capable of.
I stand and stretch my arms, wincing at the tight muscles in my shoulders as I glance around the office.
I was hoping there would be shelves of files or filing cabinets filled with documents that I could go through, but there’s nothing of the sort.
The only thing that could be worth going through is the desktop computer, and looking through that would be completely reckless.
But it could also be the key to getting me out of this marriage…
My heart hammers in my chest as I glance around the room again, remembering what Ronan said about the cameras. The only rooms off-limits are my own and the bathrooms, which means he could be watching me right now…
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Get a grip,” I hiss under my breath as I take a seat in the enormous leather chair, the seat still warm from where Ronan was sitting in it before.
I exhale slowly before reaching for the keyboard and mouse and typing in a random password combination.
It takes me even less time than the data entry to gain access to the computer, and I can’t help but laugh at Ronan’s pathetic excuse for a password.
Considering the fact he’s so fanatical about security, I’d have expected better from him.
But nonetheless, I’m grateful for his rookie error, as it means I can finally start digging.
My fingers tremble as I scan through various folders containing payment logs and financial forecasts. It’s nothing out of the ordinary which only piques my interest more.
It’s a little too clean, which means if there’s dirt, Ronan’s keeping it somewhere else...
“What are you hiding, Ronan?” I open up another folder of even more payment logs.
My pounding heart feels like a ticking clock.
Ronan could come back at any moment and catch me in the act, and if that happens, I’m going to need a rock-solid reason for being on his computer.
I look over his current payment system, groaning as I realize how outdated and inefficient it is.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m reorganizing the entire thing, not just because I need something to do but also if Ronan realizes how skilled I am, he might actually give me a job that keeps me busy for more than five minutes.
It takes me almost two hours to update Ronan’s current system, and there’s no doubt that he’s going to be pissed, but he’ll get over it when he realizes how much better it is.
Maybe he’ll decide to punish me again…
“Jesus Christ,” I groan as I squeeze my thighs together.
I quickly click on a random folder of scanned documents, deciding that I need to keep myself distracted until Mila arrives after lunch.
Because if I don’t, I have no doubt that I’ll end up in my room with Ronan’s wedding gift to me between my thighs to try to relieve the ache…
and I sure as hell don’t want to get caught doing that.
I force myself to look through every document, noting the dates and references, and once again, there’s nothing much of interest, which only adds to my foul mood.
How can I be living inside the Sullivans’ lair and not find anything that could be used against them?
I’m about to shut down the computer when I scroll farther down and notice a scanned image with no date or payment reference. I double-click, and an old, faded picture of Ronan’s parents fills the screen.
I recognize Seamus Sullivan immediately, even though he looks barely older than thirty in the picture. There’s a woman standing beside him with her head thrown back as she laughs, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners in a familiar way…
Ronan's mother.
My throat tightens unexpectedly as I stare into Seamus’s eyes.
This office used to be his after all, and the room feels weighed down by his death. It wasn’t long ago that he used to sit in this very chair, no doubt smoking a cigar from the lingering smell in the air, and drinking whiskey, if the half-filled decanters on the cart to my left are any clue.
Despite my feelings toward the Sullivans, Seamus was loved by many…but clearly, not all.
Someone hated him enough to want him dead and risked their own back by pulling the trigger, and I know Ronan isn’t going to stop until their blood is on his hands.
I guess this is one thing Ronan and I have in common.
Perhaps if I get to Seamus’s killer first, I can use their hatred of the Sullivans to my advantage…
The doorbell rings, jerking me back to reality.
I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I’ve almost completely forgotten that Mila is arriving any minute.
After checking Ronan’s computer is switched off, I dart out of the office and hurry down the stairs to let her in. Part of me is still in disbelief that Ronan willingly let me invite my friend over to his house, but then again, this is my house also, and I need to start treating it as such.
I throw open the front door. “Hey.”
Mila immediately looks past me into the grand foyer, and her gray eyes almost bug out of their sockets.
“Damn, McCarthy. You’re really moving up in the world.” She whistles as she steps over the threshold.
She looks effortlessly chic as always in a pair of low-rise jeans and a cropped t-shirt, her dark hair tucked behind her ears and her lips painted a bright shade of red.
I roll my eyes before enveloping her in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I literally saw you yesterday.” She chuckles, but that only makes me hug her tighter.
Right now, Mila feels like the only thing tethering me to my old life. Even my brother has gone radio silent since the wedding, which hurts more than I care to admit. He was meant to have my back, but the moment I signed that marriage license, it was like he couldn’t wait to rid himself of me.
It doesn’t matter…
When I finally let her go, Mila reaches into her NYU tote bag and pulls out a bottle of wine.
"Figured you'd need this.” She grins.
“You have no idea.”
After giving Mila a brief tour of the downstairs of the house, I take her into the kitchen, where I get us some wine glasses before heading out the French doors and onto the patio.
It’s a surprisingly warm day for September, and the sky is clear, which makes it the perfect weather for drinking wine and lounging out by Ronan’s ridiculous pool.
“I know we’re meant to hate him, but damn, this house is incredible.” Mila sighs as she kicks off her tennis shoes and leans back on her lounger.
I remain quiet as I pour us both a drink, hoping that Mila takes my silence as a cue to avoid the topic of Ronan.
I hand her a glass, and her bright red lips pull into a smile.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Ronan?”
I choke on my drink, which only makes her grin widen.
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on, I’m not blind, Ciara. Something’s going on, so you might as well spill."
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s written all over your face.” She laughs.
I scowl as I take another sip of my wine. “I sometimes hate how well you know me,” I mutter under my breath. “But fine. I admit that Ronan and I might have been…intimate.”
Mila’s jaw almost hits the floor at my confession. "More than once?"
I nod, my cheeks flaming.
“Was it good?”
“That’s beside the point!”
She laughs, leaning back in her chair. “The point is, you’re in deep, my friend.”
“No.” I cross my legs beneath myself. “It doesn’t change anything. I’m still going to bring him down because that’s what he deserves.”
Mila’s smile fades a little as she looks at me. “Are you sure this whole vendetta isn’t consuming you?”
I stare into my wine glass, staying silent again because I don’t want to admit that Ronan is the one consuming me.
She sighs. “Look, I get it. You loved your father, but he’s gone, and you have a chance at a new life here. A real one. So, maybe it’s time to focus on the future and not the past.”
I shake my head as tears start to sting my eyes. "You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly. But you and Ronan are married, Ciara. Is there any harm in seeing where this can go?”
Her words land harder than I expect. I open my mouth to argue, but Mila lifts a hand to stop me.
“Just think about it. If you put half as much energy into getting to know Ronan as you do into hating him, maybe you’ll learn something you don’t expect.
And if Ronan proves he can’t be trusted, then fine, burn him to the ground.
But if he doesn’t...” She gives me a knowing look that has my cheeks heating once more.
Falling for Ronan Sullivan would be nothing short of suicide. But I also can’t deny that it might also be a bit too late to turn back.