Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
K iera
The line went dead, and I sat there, staring at my phone in my hand like it might start hissing or burst into flames.
You don’t get to tell me no.
His words curled around my brain like smoke, clinging to my every waking thought. Calm, controlled, cold—Ronan hadn’t raised his voice, not even once, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d meant every word. And there had been something in his tone, a quiet certainty, that made my stomach twist into knots like I was a bad little girl waiting for her daddy to come home and spank her because she’d been naughty.
I swallowed hard.
I set the phone down on my desk and leaned back in my chair, running both hands through my still-damp hair. My body felt tight, coiled like a spring that wouldn’t release. The nerves in my chest were buzzing, my mind looping through every possible outcome of what I’d just done.
I’d called him. Ronan O’Malley.
For as long as I’d known him, he’d always been a step too intense for me to fully understand. The kind of man who could make people shut up with a single look, who could shift a whole room’s energy just by walking into it. Even back when he’d been nothing more than Leena’s cocky older brother, I’d felt it—the way he loomed, the way his presence demanded attention.
Back then, though, it had been easier to dismiss him. He was just a player, a guy with a too-sharp smile and a string of girls who followed him around like moths to a flame.
But that was before his father died. Before he took over everything that he’d inherited. Before he became… this.
A ruthless Irish mafia boss with more power than I could even remotely imagine.
This version of Ronan was harder to brush off. He wasn’t just intense anymore; he was dangerous. A predator in a tailored suit.
And the way he’d spoken to me on the phone… it hadn’t felt like a threat, exactly, but it hadn’t felt safe, either.
You don’t get to tell me no, not even once.
I stared at the faint reflection of myself in the dark window. What exactly was I getting myself into? I had no doubt Ronan could make Benedetti back off. Hell, Benedetti would probably piss himself the second Ronan so much as looked in his direction. But what would it cost me?
What did Ronan mean by ‘you’ll owe me’?
A shiver crawled down my spine, and not entirely because of fear.
I hated the way my brain kept circling back to the sound of his voice, low and controlled. There was something about him—there had always been something about him—that made me feel too many things at once. Fear. Frustration. Anticipation. And underneath all of it, there was a simmering heat that glowered between us like dry tinder catching flame.
That wasn’t all either…
He’d called me ‘good girl’ before hanging up.
The words had been soft, almost casual, but they’d landed like a jolt of electricity, setting every nerve in my body alight. I’d spent the last five minutes trying to convince myself it hadn’t meant anything. That it was just another part of his manipulation. But the heat in my cheeks said otherwise.
“Stop it,” I muttered to myself under my breath, pushing away from the desk.
I crossed the room to the bed, flopping down onto the mattress and pulling the blanket over my head like that would somehow make the situation disappear. It didn’t. All I could think about was the look on his face the last time I’d seen him, at that barbecue last summer. The way his eyes had lingered on me from across the yard, dark and unreadable, like he was taking in every inch of me and memorizing every curve.
I’d avoided him for most of the night, staying close to Leena and pretending I didn’t notice the way his gaze followed me. But at one point, I’d caught him by the grill, his sleeves rolled up, his forearms streaked with grease. He’d glanced up as I passed, and for a split second, I’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Evening, Kiera,” he’d said, his voice low and teasing, like he knew exactly how much he was getting under my skin.
I’d just nodded, my cheeks burning, and kept walking.
Now, months later, I was practically handing myself to him on a silver platter. I’d called him for help, put myself in his debt, and I had no idea what he’d do with that power.
Would he keep it professional? Handle Benedetti, save my scholarship, and move on like it was nothing? Or would he use this as an opportunity to finally take me good and hard the way I strongly suspected he would?
I could still hear his voice in my head. That thinly veiled edge of control. That quiet promise of his retribution.
You don’t get to tell me no.
The worst part was I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to tell him no.
I groaned, rolling onto my side and burying my face in the pillow. This was stupid. All of it. I should have let Leena call him instead, let her deal with the fallout. But now I was stuck right in the middle of it, and no matter how much I tried to push him out of my head, the thought of him wouldn’t leave.
What kind of price would a man like Ronan O’Malley consider fitting? What did he expect me to give him in return for his help?
I didn’t know the answer to either of those questions.
And that terrified me as much as it thrilled me.
It wasn’t until my phone buzzed again that I realized I hadn’t moved in ten minutes.
I blinked at the screen, at the name glaring back at me like it had every reason to be there.
My stomach dropped. I sat up, my heart lurching into overdrive as I unlocked the phone and read the text.
Be ready in fifteen. I’m on my way.
No greeting. No question. Just a statement, harsh and unyielding, like everything else about him.
I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, debating whether to type a snarky message back. Something that might buy me a little more time, or make me feel like I still had some semblance of control over this situation.
But I didn’t. What would be the point?
With a sigh, I tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed my hands over my face.
Fifteen minutes.
That’s all I had before Ronan pulled up outside my building, and the idea of going with him made me feel like I’d swallowed a live grenade.
What was I even supposed to wear? I glanced down at the towel wrapped around me. Not exactly the kind of look that screamed, ‘I’m totally in control of my life.’ But what was the alternative? Throwing on jeans and a sweater and pretending that this wasn’t a complete disaster?
The reality of it hit me all at once: Ronan was coming here. Tonight. And once he showed up, I had no idea what was going to happen next.
I stood abruptly, pacing the length of my room and eventually grabbing my phone off my bed, just in case he sent anything else. My reflection flashed past the darkened window as I walked, my face pale, my hair a tangled mess. I looked like someone who had just begged for a favor they couldn’t afford to repay.
And wasn’t that exactly what I was?
I made my way to the closet, using the flashlight on my phone, and pulled out the first pair of panties and a bra that I could find with hands that trembled more than I wanted to admit. Next came jeans and a loose sweater—plain, unremarkable, safe. An outfit that wouldn’t draw attention. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pulled it over my head and snorted quietly. Who was I trying to fool? This wasn’t a date. I wasn’t dressing to impress. I was dressing to survive.
Still, my thoughts refused to settle.
What did he want from me?
That was the question I couldn’t shake. The question that had been rattling around in my head since the second I hung up the phone. Ronan had always been impossible to predict. Even when he was just Leena’s older brother, back when his life seemed more about late nights and flings than whatever shadowed empire he ran now, I’d never been able to read him.
I glanced at my phone again, the time glowing faintly on the screen.
Eleven minutes.
My stomach twisted as I thought about him coming here. What would I say to him? What would he say to me?
Would he even give me a chance to explain myself, or had I already said too much?
The worst part was the uncertainty. I didn’t know if Ronan would be calm or furious. Cold or… whatever it was that made my heart race every time he looked at me.
He’d told me I didn’t get to tell him no, and that alone was enough to make me want to lock my door and hide under my bed.
But it wasn’t just fear. It wasn’t just the idea of what Ronan might demand in return for his help that made my skin flush. It wasn’t just the unknown that sent heat pooling low in my belly every time I thought about his voice, low and full of promise, curling around those two little words.
Good girl.
It was that a part of me wanted it.
I groaned and dropped onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. This was ridiculous. He was Leena’s older brother. He was dangerous. Ruthless. The kind of man who could order a room cleared with a snap of his fingers, and yet somehow, I was sitting here worrying about what he might think of my sweater.
I stood up again, crossing to the window and pulling the curtain back just enough to peer into the street below. The usual chaos of the city hummed outside—horns blaring, lights flashing, people moving in every direction like scattered ants.
And then my breath froze in the back of my throat.
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the dim haze of the streetlamp. It wasn’t flashy—not like some of the ridiculous luxury cars you’d see idling outside nightclubs—but it radiated quiet power. The kind of car that didn’t need to scream money, because it was money.
The driver’s side door opened, and for a moment, all I saw was a pair of polished black boots hitting the pavement. Then he stepped out.
Even from three stories up, Ronan O’Malley looked like he owned the street.
His dark coat swayed slightly as he adjusted the collar, his sharp jawline catching the glow of the streetlight. I dropped the curtain and took a step back, my pulse pounding like a drum.
He was here.
My phone buzzed on my desk, and I glanced at the screen just long enough to read the text.
Come down. Now.