13. Ronan
13
RONAN
T he house is quiet when I step inside. Tessa’s been on my mind all day, her messages playing on repeat in my head. Her texts sparked something possessive within me. I could hardly wait to get home to see her and continue our conversation.
I’d been in the middle of a meeting when her first message had come through. It caught me so off guard that I had to step out and find a quiet area to text her. She deserves a man who is gentle and nice. I’m not that man. I could swim in the amount of blood I’ve spilled in my life. I’m an asshole on a good day and a monster on a bad one. The last thing I want to do is taint Tessa with my darkness. I’m not a good enough man to let her go, though. It makes me a selfish bastard, but I’m okay with that.
By the time we finished our text conversation, I was both turned on and relieved. Because if she had said she was thinking about a Daddy but not me specifically, I’m not sure what I would have done. I’ve tried to keep my distance from Tessa because my logical side told me I wasn’t the right man for her. But as I’ve gotten to know her on a deeper level, I’ve realized something that I think I’ve always known.
She’s mine.
And I’m a possessive asshole. I’d hate to have to go on a killing spree if she decided she wanted to date other men. The thought alone makes me want to put a bullet in someone.
I shrug off my jacket, heading toward the kitchen. As I approach, the clattering of pots and a muttered curse reaches my ears. My brow furrows as I step into the doorway.
There she is, standing in front of the stove, her hair pulled into a messy bun and a lost look on her face. She’s surrounded by chaos—ingredients scattered across the counter, a saucepan bubbling over on the stove, and a smoking, blackened pan in the sink.
“Need some help?” I ask, leaning casually against the doorframe.
She startles, spinning around to face me, her cheeks flushing as she takes in the sight of me. “Ronan! You’re home.”
I nod, stepping into the room and surveying the disaster. “What’s all this?”
Her gaze drops to the counter, and her entire face falls. “I was trying to make dinner,” she says, her bottom lip trembling. “I thought it would be nice, but it’s not going well.”
There’s defeat in her blue eyes, way her shoulders are hunched like she’s bracing for criticism. It tugs at something in me, and I step closer, reaching out to gently tip her chin up so she has to look at me.
“Hey. It’s okay.”
She shakes her head, pulling away slightly. “It’s not. I just wanted to do something special since you’ve been so sweet to me, and I completely screwed it up. Now, I don’t even think this is edible, and you might need to buy new pans.”
I glance at the saucepan and suppress a smile. She’s right—it doesn’t look edible. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that she tried.
“Tessa,” I murmur, stepping closer and placing my hands lightly on her shoulders. “Listen to me. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to cook, or clean, or worry about any of this. That’s not what I want from you.”
Her brow furrows as she looks up at me. “Then what do you want?”
“I want to take care of you,” I say simply. “As your Daddy, it’s my job to make sure you’re happy and cared for. That means I cook dinner. I make sure you’re comfortable. The only thing I want you to do is what makes you happy—what you enjoy. That’s it.”
She blinks up at me, her expression softening as my words sink in. “But… it feels like I should be doing something. Like I should be helping. I’m supposed to be your wife, after all.”
“That’s right, you are my wife. Which means it’s my job to take care of you.” I brush a stray strand of hair away from her face.
Her lips tremble again, and the way she’s trying to fight her tears from falling kills me inside. I don’t give her the chance to retreat. Instead, I pull her into my arms, wrapping her in a firm, steady hug. She relaxes against me almost instantly, her head resting against my chest.
“It’s okay to let go,” I murmur, my hand stroking down her back gently. “I think you’ve been carrying this heaviness and bad memories for so long by yourself. You don’t need to do that anymore. I’m here to take that weight away from you so you can live a happy and carefree life.”
Her arms tighten around my waist. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. All you have to do is trust and listen to your Daddy.”
She tilts her head back to meet my gaze, her eyes searching. “Does this mean… you’re my Daddy?”
Staring back at her, I nod. “Yeah, Little one. It does. Do you have any objections to that?”
While I wait for her answer, I hold my breath. This entire moment could be life-changing for both of us. Even more significant than getting married.
“No,” she whispers.
Relief rushes through me, and I give her a sharp nod, then tighten my arms around her again. I hold her for a while, the tension draining from both our bodies.
Finally, I release her and take a step back. “Now, how about we order dinner and let someone else do the cooking?”
Her lips curve into a small smile. “That sounds good.”
I grab my phone and dial my favorite takeout joint, placing an order for nearly everything on the menu so she can have a variety to choose from. While I’m on the call, she starts tidying up the disaster on the counter. When I hang up, I stop her with a hand on her wrist.
“Nope,” I say firmly, then point to one of the seats at the bar. “I’ll clean this up. You sit.”
She laughs softly but obeys, perching on a stool at the island while I clean up. We keep the conversation light, but there’s tension in the air. I suspect we both want to get dinner done so we can sit down and have a deeper talk.
By the time the food arrives, the kitchen is spotless. I spread out the food. Her eyes widen with each box I pull out of the bags.
“Is your entire family coming over for dinner?” she asks with a smirk.
I chuckle and narrow my gaze. “Are you being sassy, Little one?”
Then the most beautiful thing happens. She giggles and sticks her tongue out at me. It delights me so fucking much I can’t even pretend to scold her.
“What can I say? I guess I feel comfortable enough around you to be sassy.”
Her words hit me like a brick, and I freeze, my hands hovering over one of the takeout containers. When she notices, her lips part, moving my attention to the plush pads.
I take a step toward her and slide my fingers over the back of her neck, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Slowly, I lean down so my face is level with hers, pinning her with my gaze.
“You’re always safe to be sassy around me, baby girl. You can be sassy, naughty, bratty, or whatever else you want around me. Thank you for trusting me, Tessa. It means the world to me. I’ll never take it for granted.”
Then I pull her closer, my mouth meeting hers, finally getting to taste her after all this time. Her lips are so soft, warm and inviting, and the world immediately fades away. It’s just her. The woman I’ve been falling for all these years without even realizing it. My hand stays firm on the back of her neck, holding her steady as I deepen the kiss, dominating her mouth with mine, exploring every bit I can and letting her do the same.
She doesn’t touch me at first, but then she reaches up and rests her palms lightly on my chest before fisting the material. Like she’s holding on to me both for support and so I don’t pull away.
When I finally ease back, we’re panting and gasping for air as I rest my forehead on hers. Her eyes flutter open, wide and dazed, her lips are swollen from the kiss. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I can’t wait to see more of it. To see her completely undone for me.
“Fuck, baby,” I mutter. “I need to feed you, but I want to keep kissing you.”
I want to do other things to her, too. Sick and depraved things while she screams my name.
“You have no idea how much I want you, Tessa. How much I’ve wanted this. How often you’ve gone through my mind over the past six years. I don’t deserve someone as precious as you, but I’m too fucking selfish to let you go. You’re mine. We can go as slow as you need, but I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Do you understand that?”
Her hands are still on my chest, her touch soothing me even through the fabric of my shirt. “I think I’m starting to,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine with something that looks like hope. Like she wants this as much as I do.
“Good girl.”
I give her one last short kiss, then take a step back and run my fingers through my hair, ignoring my painfully hard cock as I go back to pulling out food containers.
“ G o upstairs, change into something comfy—your favorite pajamas or whatever you like best—and come back down so we can talk.”
She blinks at me, her expression flickering between curiosity and hesitation. “Okay,” she says softly. “Are you going to get comfy too?”
Smirking, I glance down at my black button-down shirt, black slacks, and matching Italian leather shoes. “I am in my comfy clothes. I took my suit jacket off.”
That answer makes her giggle, but I’m being truthful. I’ve spent the better part of my life in custom-tailored suits. Lounging in regular clothes almost feels unnatural to me.
As her footsteps fade, I let out a slow breath, dragging my hands through my hair. My heart is pounding. Am I moving too fast? It feels like we went from zero to a hundred today. I’m not so sure that’s actually true. Even though we didn’t see each other while she was in college—well, not that she knew of—our connection was solidified when I pulled her out of that cell. And in a way, I think it’s been growing in our hearts ever since. I don’t have to ask to know she didn’t date in college. I already know there weren’t any guys on the scene for her because even when I wasn’t in Ireland, I always had someone watching her.
By the time I settle onto the couch, one arm draped over the back, the other resting on my knee, I hear her soft, hesitant steps. I look up, and the sight of her steals every coherent thought from my head.
She’s wearing a soft pink tank top paired with pajama shorts that fit her so fucking perfectly. I bet if she turned around, I’d be able to see the curve of her thighs meeting her ass. And on her feet are a pair of fuzzy pink socks. Her hair is still in a messy bun, and her cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the warmth of the house or the way I’m looking at her.
“Is this okay?” she asks, her gaze searching mine.
I can’t stop the smile that tugs at my lips. “You look perfect, baby girl. Come here.”
Her cheeks darken, and she smiles shyly before she takes a tentative step forward. When she’s close enough, I pat my lap, meeting her eyes with a steady, unwavering gaze.
“I want you to sit here while we talk.”
Her eyes widen slightly, and her lips part as if she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she simply nods and lowers herself onto my lap. The moment she’s settled, her body fitting against mine like it was made to be there, a calm washes over me. Her warmth, her scent, the way her head naturally tucks under my chin, it’s like a missing piece has finally clicked into place.
“Good girl. This is better.” I slide one hand over her hip and use the other to brush a strand of hair away from her face.
She leans back slightly, her hands resting on my shoulders, her curious eyes locked on mine. “So, what do we talk about?” she asks softly.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. My thumb brushes small circles against her hip. “ Us . This thing between us. I want to make sure you know where I stand, what I want, and what I’m offering.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “What are you offering?”
I slide my hand to the small of her back, moving it in slow strokes, hoping to soothe any nerves she has. “I’m offering to take care of you, Tessa. To protect you, guide you, and make you feel safe. That’s what being your Daddy means to me. It’s not just a title—it’s a promise. It’s a relationship. Not a temporary one or one of convenience. I’ve tried to deny wanting you, but I’ve been lying to myself.”
“What would you expect from me?” she asks nervously, biting her bottom lip.
“I want you to let me in. To trust me and let me care for you the way I want to. You don’t have to be perfect, baby girl. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. Just be honest with me. Talk to me. Lean on me. Obey me.”
Her lips part, and I can see the emotion in her eyes, the way she’s fighting to keep it together.
“You make it sound so simple,” she says.
“It is,” I answer firmly, my gaze never leaving hers. “With me, it is. You don’t have to overthink anything. Just let me take the lead. Let me be what you need.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Then, she looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I’m still so fucked up, Ronan. I have nightmares. I’m scared of the dark. I don’t like closed doors because it makes me feel trapped. I’m always looking over my shoulder. It’s too much for you to have to deal with.”
Tightening my hold, I reach up and grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I want you to listen to me. You are not too much to deal with. Baby, after what you went through, I’d say you’re doing exceptionally fucking well. And if you don’t like the dark, I’ll have permanent nightlights installed in every room. If you don’t like closed doors, I’ll remove every single one in the house. If you have nightmares, I’ll be there to hold you and comfort you afterward. The last thing you are, though, is too much. Understand?”
Tears roll down her cheeks as she stares at me. “Yes.”
I place a gentle kiss on her lips, savoring the way she softens for me. “I’ve got you, baby. Trust me to take care of you, okay?”
She nods and curls into me, her hand fisting my shirt like she’s holding on for dear life. “I trust you.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, holding onto each other. I have a feeling that other than my sister, Tessa hasn’t ever had anyone in her life she could truly count on. Not knowingly.
“If you want someone to talk to, I know a great therapist. I can arrange for her to come here so you’re more comfortable,” I say.
Tessa pops up, her eyes wide and scared as she shakes her head. “No. No therapists. I don’t want to talk to a stranger again. The last therapist my parents found for me told me I wasn’t trying to get over it, and I was. I tried so hard. They didn’t understand that. Talking to a stranger is the last thing I want to do.”
“Okay. Okay, baby. No therapists.” I start stroking her back again, trying to calm her. Whoever that so-called therapist is needs a personal visit from me. We’ll see if they “just get over it.”
She leans back against me, her head tucked under my chin. I’ve waited my whole life for this. A completeness that’s always been missing.
“Maybe one day you’ll talk to me about it?” I ask quietly. “I may not be able to help you heal from it, but I will listen.”
It takes a moment before she lets out a deep breath and nods. “I think you’re already helping me heal.”
A lump forms in my throat, so thick and painful that I can’t respond. Instead, I just hold her, hoping she can feel what I want her to understand. That she’s mine, and I’m going to take care of her forever.