Chapter 5
RONAN
Iwatch from the doorway as Rayne kneels beside Ryan’s bed, her voice soft as she finishes the story about a dinosaur who couldn’t find his way home.
My son’s eyelids are heavy, fighting sleep to hear one more word from her.
He’s been glued to her side all day—following her around the house, showing her every toy, every book, asking endless questions.
Each time I watched them—my eyes never left her, if I’m being honest—my chest constricted. This wasn’t how I planned to spend the the first twenty-four hours with her, but I’m not complaining.
“Good night, Rayne,” he says softly, eyes finally closing.
“Goodnight, Ryan.” She brushes his hair back from his forehead—a gesture so natural it makes an unnamed, unfamiliar feeling rise to the surface.
I step forward. “Time for sleep, buddy.”
Ryan’s eyes flutter open one last time. “Is Rayne gonna be here tomorrow when I wake up?”
“Yes,” I answer before she can.
“Good.” He smiles, already drifting off. “She’s the best. I like her.”
I bend to kiss his forehead and guide Rayne out of the room, keeping my hand at the small of her back. The contact isn’t necessary, but I can’t seem to stop touching her. All day I’ve been waiting for this moment—for Ryan to fall asleep so I could have her to myself.
“He really likes you,” I say as we walk down the hallway.
It’s not a compliment but a statement of fact that surprises even me.
Ryan has always been shy around strangers, especially women.
I haven’t dated anyone since his mother left, but each time I introduced him to a colleague or friend, he retreated into silence, wary and distant.
“He’s a wonderful boy. So curious and sweet.”
“He’s never taken to anyone like this.” The words come out rougher than intended.
She glances up at me. “I take it you haven’t dated much?”
“No.” I guide her toward the living room, where the massive Christmas tree I had delivered stands bare in the corner. “Not worth the effort. Women see the money, not me.”
“Must be hard to trust anyone’s intentions.”
Something in her tone makes me look at her more closely. She’s fidgeting with her hands, uncomfortable. She’s hiding something. I’ve been in enough boardroom negotiations to recognize evasion when I see one.
I won’t press, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever I can to find out. If she needs help and is too shy to ask for it, then I’ll solve all her problems for her anyway … with or without her knowing.
We reach the living room, and I watch her reaction to the twelve-foot Douglas fir dominating the space.
Boxes of ornaments and lights sit unopened beside it.
Every year, Ryan picks a theme. This year, he wants all the colors of the rainbow.
I can’t really complain. It’s so much better than last year’s dinosaur decorations.
Imagine a T-Rex on top instead of a star.
“You’re decorating?” she asks, clearly changing the subject.
“We are. Ryan will be asleep for hours. I thought we could surprise him.”
Her face softens. “That’s a lovely idea.”
I open the first box of lights, unwinding the strand between my hands. “What were your Christmases like growing up?”
She takes the other end of the lights, helping me untangle them. “Small but special. Mom always made sure we had a tree, even when money was tight. We’d make paper chains and popcorn garlands.” She smiles at the memory. “What about you?”
“Quite similar to yours. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, especially when a new mechanic showed up in town. Mom didn’t make a lot as a seamstress, either. We usually just had eggnog and cake at Christmas. It was fine. I wasn’t big on holidays.”
“And now?”
“Now I have Ryan.” I look up at her, holding her gaze. “I make sure he remembers every single Christmas we spend together.”
We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes, circling the tree with lights.
Her hair catches the glow, turning golden.
I find myself watching her more than the decorations.
If last night I thought her stunning, whatever feelings I have for her have grown tenfold.
My self-control already snapped earlier.
It’s now so close to breaking point again, I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know if I even want to.
“Ever sit on Santa’s lap?” I ask, deliberately breaking the silence.
She laughs. “Once. I was five and terrified. I refused to tell him what I wanted because I was convinced he already knew.”
“Smart girl.” I reach around her to adjust a light, my chest brushing her back. She stills, and I feel her breath catch. “What would you ask for now?”
“Nothing complicated. Financial security. Health. The usual adult wishes.”
There it is again—that evasion. Something about money troubles, which is pretty obvious given her participation at an auction, but there’s something else she won’t share.
I make a mental note to have my investigator look deeper into her background.
I need to know what drove her to that auction, what desperation pushed a woman like her to sell herself to strangers.
I have a feeling it’s more than her mom’s medical bills.
“Hand me that box of ornaments,” I say, deciding to press later. For now, I just want to see her smile again.
She brings over a box of crystal snowflakes, carefully lifting one. “These are beautiful.”
“They’re new. I bought them the other day.”
Her eyebrow raises. “You went Christmas ornament shopping?”
“I had my assistant do it.”
She laughs. “Of course you did.”
“What does that mean?” I take the ornament from her hand, letting my fingers brush hers.
“It means you’re exactly what I expected.” She reaches past me for another ornament, her body close enough that I start to burn. “Billionaire who delegates everything.”
“Not everything.” I brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “Some things I handle personally.”
Her skin turns bright red. She steps back, nearly stumbling. I catch her elbow, steadying her.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I say, not letting go. “These floors can be slippery.”
“T-thank you.” She pulls away, busying herself with the ornaments.
We work our way around the tree, her hanging ornaments at the bottom while I place them higher. The domestic rhythm feels oddly right. Natural. As if we’ve done this before.
“You’re too tall,” she says, stretching to reach a bare spot near the top. “It’s unfair.”
I move behind her, reaching over her head to place the ornament. “Better?”
She turns, finding herself trapped between me and the tree. “Show-off.”
“Can’t help it. Why waste time with a ladder when I’m right here?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth, then quickly away. “Did you decorate trees with Ryan’s mother?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. She left when he was six months old. Decided motherhood didn’t suit her lifestyle.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be. Her loss.” I reach for another ornament, forcing her to stay close to me. “What about you? Ever do this with someone special?”
She shakes her head. “Not since Mom got sick. The last few years have been ... complicated.”
“How sick is she?”
Her eyes widen slightly. I’ve surprised her with the directness.
“It’s treatable but … expensive.” She looks away, hand trembling slightly as she hangs another ornament.
“Is that why you were at the auction?”
She freezes. “I don't want to talk about that.”
“Why not?” I press my palm against the tree trunk, effectively caging her in. “Ashamed?”
“No.” She lifts her chin. “Desperate, not ashamed. There’s a difference.”
“Tell me why.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She tries to duck under my arm, but I don’t move.
“It matters to me.”
“Why?” Her voice rises slightly. “It was a business arrangement. You paid for the weekend. What does it matter why I was there?”
“Because I want to know everything about you.” The truth slips out before I can filter it. “Because nothing about you makes sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re educated, beautiful, intelligent. You don’t fit the profile of people at that auction.”
She swallows hard. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
I lean closer until my mouth ghosts her skin. “I know more than you realize.”
“W-what does that mean?”
Instead of answering, I reach up and plug in the lights. The tree illuminates, bathing us both in soft, multicolored light. Her face transforms in the glow—worry giving way to childlike wonder.
“God, it’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“Yes, it is.” But I’m not looking at the tree.
Her eyes meet mine, and something electric passes between us. All the tension from the day—watching her with my son, seeing her move through my house like she belongs there, the constant, maddening distance I’ve forced myself to keep—it all converges into this moment.
And I fucking snap.
I cup her face in my hand. “I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone.”
“But Ryan—”
“Is asleep.” My thumb brushes her lower lip. “And I’m done waiting.”
I kiss her, finally, under the half-decorated tree. She responds immediately, her body melting against mine, her lips parting. The kiss deepens, turns hungry and urgent and demanding. I back her against the wall beside the tree, pinning her there with my body.
“I’ve been thinking about this all damn day,” I say against her neck, dragging my tongue along the outer shell of her ear.
Her hands grip my shoulders. “Me too.”
I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist, dress riding up her thighs. She's warm and perfect in my arms. I carry her to the floor beneath the tree, laying her down on the thick rug, the lights casting patterns across her skin.
“I want to see you,” I say, fingers finding the zipper of the sundress she found in the guest bedroom. “I can’t fucking wait to see you.”
She nods, lifting slightly to help me remove it. The dress slides away, revealing cotton underwear beneath. She’s perfect so fucking perfect—soft curves, skin like silk, a flush spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest.