Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
R onan
A short while later, the soft hum of my phone vibrating against the kitchen counter broke through the quiet of the morning. I glanced down at the screen.
Seamus.
“Give me a minute,” I said to Kiera, already stepping away as I answered the call. “Seamus?”
“Turn on the damn television, boss,” he said without preamble, his voice taut. “Channel six. Now.”
“Why?” I asked, though I was already walking toward the living room.
“Just turn it on,” Seamus snapped before the line went dead.
I slid my phone into my pocket and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, glancing over my shoulder at Kiera. She sat at the kitchen island, her half-finished plate of eggs forgotten as she frowned at me.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone wary.
“Not sure yet.” I turned on the TV, the screen flaring to life and filling the room with the voice of a news anchor.
The words hit me like a hammer.
“We’re following breaking news this morning of a devastating gas explosion that occurred at the private residence of prominent businessman Lorenzo Benedetti, known to many as the head of the Benedetti family here in New York. The explosion took place just after 7:00 a.m., and early reports confirm significant structural damage to the home.”
The screen cut to a live feed of the scene—a sprawling mansion now reduced to rubble, smoke curling into the pale morning sky. Firefighters moved through the wreckage, hoses blasting streams of water to extinguish lingering flames, while police barricades kept onlookers at bay. Sirens wailed in the background, creating a chaotic and terrifying scene.
“Authorities are still working to determine the exact cause of the explosion,” the anchor continued, their voice measured and professional, “though sources on-site suggest it may have been related to a gas leak. However, officials have not ruled out foul play given the residence’s connection to the city’s organized crime network.”
The camera zoomed in on the destruction: twisted beams, shattered windows, and a smoking crater where the front entrance once stood.
“We have just received confirmation that Lorenzo Benedetti, the head of the Benedetti family, has been found dead in the wreckage. Emergency responders discovered his body in what appears to have been his private study, one of the most heavily damaged areas of the home.”
“Jesus,” Kiera whispered, her voice barely audible.
I turned off the television with a click, the silence that followed ringing in my ears. I tossed the remote onto the coffee table and sank into the chair across from her.
“What was that about?” Kiera asked, her brows knit together. Suspicion flickered across her face as her gaze locked on mine. “Did you… know about this?”
I didn’t answer right away, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Truthfully, the explosion had caught me off guard as much as anyone else, but the possibilities were already swirling in my head—none of them good.
“Why would I know about it?” I said finally, my tone even.
She narrowed her eyes, clearly not convinced. “Because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her, my face giving nothing away. “Lorenzo Benedetti’s house blew up and now he’s dead. That’s big news. I’m as surprised as you are.”
Kiera crossed her arms, her suspicion unrelenting. “You don’t look surprised. You obviously did this,” she said, her voice low, but not shaky. If anything, she sounded certain, and the look she leveled at me dug under my skin in a way I wasn’t prepared for. “Can you please just tell me the truth?”
I kept my face blank even as something dark twisted inside me. My chest tightened, the words hitting harder than they should have. The truth was I’d been accused of worse things—but hearing it from her, from Kiera, was something else entirely.
“You think I’m stupid enough to take a shot at Lorenzo Benedetti in broad daylight?” I asked, my voice tinged with anger. “That I’d pull something this reckless and leave you—or my men—wide open to retaliation?”
She flinched slightly, but didn’t back down. “Don’t try to twist this. You’re capable of it, and you know it.”
I pushed forward, planting my hands flat on the table as I stared her down. “Capable doesn’t mean careless, Kiera. You think I’m going to start a war like this? Without a plan? Without covering my goddamn tracks?”
“Then tell me I’m wrong!” she shot back, her voice rising now. “If I’m going to be in your life, as your woman —” she paused, as if the words themselves tasted strange, then pressed on—“then you don’t get to treat me like I’m na?ve. Like I can’t handle the truth.”
My cock stirred at the fire in her eyes, and I hated that part of me—hated how easily she could undo me with nothing more than just a look. My chest tightened with the urge to pull her into my arms and kiss the fight right out of her—and, at the same time, made me want to put a fist through the nearest wall.
I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I can see where you’d think I did this,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “But it also bothers me that you think I’m that fucking stupid.”
Kiera blinked, taken aback by the venom in my tone, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I’ve got to go deal with this situation,” I said, grabbing my phone off the table. I didn’t look at her as I turned toward the door, my movements clipped and furious. “Stay here. Don’t open the door for anyone. Don’t even breathe unless you know it’s safe.”
“Ronan—”
I ignored her, already striding toward the elevator.
She thought I’d killed Lorenzo—believed I’d pulled the trigger on something this dangerous and left her to face the fallout. That stung more than I cared to admit.
But worse than that?
A small, twisted part of me liked that she thought I was capable of it. That she looked at me and saw the kind of man who could bring a powerhouse like Lorenzo Benedetti to his knees.
The elevator doors slid shut behind me, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel in control of a damn thing.