Chapter 6
RAYNE
The first thing I notice when I wake is warmth—the solid heat of Ronan’s chest against my back, his arm draped possessively across my waist. For a moment, I lie perfectly still, savoring the feeling. His breath stirs my hair, slow and steady. He’s still asleep.
I carefully turn to face him, studying the planes of his face softened by sleep. Without his usual intensity, he looks younger. Vulnerable, even. My heart squeezes painfully.
Tomorrow morning, this ends.
Tomorrow, I walk away with enough money to cover Mom’s treatments. I’ll go back to my apartment, my job search, my normal life. And Ronan will ... what? Find someone else? The thought makes me feel physically ill.
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake him, and pad to the bathroom. In the mirror, my reflection tells the story of last night—hair tousled, lips slightly swollen, a small mark blooming at the junction of my neck and shoulder where Ronan’s mouth had been particularly insistent.
“Running away?” His voice, rough with sleep, startles me.
I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, wearing only low-hanging pajama bottoms. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare chest.
“Just ... freshening up.”
He crosses to me, trapping me against the counter, his hands settling on my hips. “We have plans today.”
“Plans?”
“There’s a Christmas gala tonight. I want you there.”
I blink at him. “A gala? Like, formal dress, champagne, fancy people?”
“Exactly like that.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “I want to show you off.”
Something flutters in my chest. “You don’t strike me as the type who enjoys galas.”
“I’m not.” His eyes darken. “But I enjoy the idea of you in a dress that makes other men envious of what’s mine.”
The possessive claim sends heat spiraling through me. I should protest—I’m not his, not really. This is temporary. But the words stick in my throat.
“I don’t have anything to wear to something like that.”
He smiles the smile that makes my breath hitch. “That’s part of today’s plan. We’re going shopping.”
“Shopping? For a gala dress?” This feels surreal. “Ronan, I can’t—”
“You can and you will.” He kisses me, soft but firm. “My treat.”
“But—”
“Ryan’s coming too.” At the mention of his son, Ronan’s expression softens.
I melt a little. That sweet boy. “Okay, we’ll go.”
“Good.” Ronan steps back. “Shower. Then breakfast. Then we shop.”
His tone brooks no argument, and honestly, I don’t want to argue. One more day of this fantasy before reality crashes back. I’ll take it.
Two hours later, we’re walking through a high-end shopping district I’ve only seen in magazines.
Christmas decorations transform the storefronts into winter wonderlands—garlands swag between lampposts wrapped in twinkling lights, giant ornaments hang from tree branches, and holiday music filters out from every shop.
Ryan bounces between us, one hand in mine, one in his father’s, occasionally lifting his feet to swing. His excitement is contagious.
“Daddy, look!” He points to an animatronic Santa in a window display. “Can we go see?”
Ronan looks down at his son with such tenderness it makes my chest ache. “After we help Rayne find a dress, buddy.”
Ryan sighs dramatically. “But dresses are boring. Why don’t you just wear a Godzilla costume?”
I laugh, squeezing his little hand. “You know what? You’re right. But maybe you could help me choose? I bet you have great taste.”
His eyes light up. “I do! I know all the colors. Even periwinkle!”
“Periwinkle?” I lift a brow at Ronan.
“His preschool teacher is very thorough with color wheels,” Ronan explains, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.
We enter a boutique so exclusive there’s no price tag in sight—never a good sign for someone with my budget. Oh, wait. I don’t have a budget.
Ronan strides in confidently, Ryan trotting beside him. A saleswoman materializes instantly, her smile brightening when she recognizes Ronan.
“Mr. Ward! What a pleasure.”
“Evelyn.” He nods. “We need a gala dress.”
Her eyes sweep over me assessingly. I resist the urge to fidget. God, I hate being the center of attention.
“For the Bergman Christmas Gala tonight, I presume? I have several options that would be stunning.” She turns to Ryan with a genuine smile. “And who’s this handsome young man?”
Ryan instantly hides behind me, and I tell Evelyn, “His name is Ryan, and he’s my fashion advisor today.”
“Well, we’re lucky to have such an expert.” She winks at him before turning back to me. “Let’s find you something magnificent.”
What follows is like a scene from a movie I never thought I’d star in. Evelyn leads me to a private dressing room larger than my entire bathroom at home. Ronan and Ryan settle into plush chairs outside while assistants bring dress after dress for me to try.
I emerge in the first one—a slinky black number with a slit up to mid-thigh—feeling self-conscious.
Ryan scrunches his nose. “Too boring. It’s Christmas! Where are the sparkles?”
Ronan’s eyes, however, burn as they travel slowly up my body. “I like the slit.”
I blush, scurrying back to try the next one. God, only he can turn me on with just a look and four words.
The second dress is emerald green with an open back. Ryan gives it a thoughtful look before declaring, “Better! But you look like a Christmas tree.”
“A very beautiful Christmas tree,” Ronan adds, his voice low.
The third dress is deep red with gold accents. Ryan sits up straighter.
“Ooooh! You look like a princess!”
I twirl for him, the skirt flaring out. “You think?”
“Daddy, doesn’t she look pretty?”
Ronan’s eyes never leave mine. “Beautiful.”
We go through five more dresses, each earning commentary from Ryan ranging from “too puffy” to “too shiny” to “that’s periwinkle”, and “that color looks like Godzilla’s scales.
” Finally, I slip into a midnight blue dress with tiny crystals that catch the light like stars.
The bodice hugs my curves before flowing out into a skirt that moves like water when I walk.
When I step out, Ryan gasps.
“Daddy, she looks like the night sky! With all the stars!”
Ronan stands slowly, his expression making my heart stutter. “That’s the one.”
“Are you sure? It’s probably—”
“Perfect,” he finishes, coming closer. His fingers brush my bare shoulder. “We’ll take it.”
While Evelyn arranges for alterations—miraculously to be done in hours—I excuse myself. “I need to make a quick call.”
Ronan nods, distracted by Ryan who’s now asking about visiting Santa. I slip outside, the cold December air bracing after the warmth of the boutique.
My mom answers on the second ring. “Rayne? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom.” I turn away from the window so Ronan can’t see my face. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better than yesterday.” Her voice is stronger than it’s been in weeks. “The new medication helps with the pain.”
Relief washes through me. “Good. That's good.”
“What about you? How’s your ... weekend job?”
I hear the concern, the subtle disapproval she can’t quite hide. She doesn’t know the details, just that I’m “accompanying” a wealthy man for the weekend. It sounds sordid, even though it’s been anything but.
“It’s almost over. Just one more day.” I swallow past the hard lump in my throat. “Hang tight, Mom. I’ll have money for your treatments tomorrow. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. But please be careful. Men like that—”
“He’s not what you think,” I say softly. “He’s ... different.”
There’s a pause. “You sound like you’re getting attached.”
Am I that transparent? Maybe because I’ve always been a bad liar. “This is about your health, not my love life.”
“Rayne—”
“I have to go. I’ll come visit as soon as I can.” I end the call before she can hear the emotion in my voice.
When I return inside, Ryan runs to me, taking my hand. “Rayne! Daddy says we can see Santa after lunch!”
I paste on a smile, pushing my worry aside. “That sounds perfect.”
By early evening, the sky has darkened to indigo, and we drive through neighborhoods glittering with Christmas lights. Ryan presses his face to the window, gasping at each new display.
“Look! That house has a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat!”
“Clearly the height of Christmas sophistication and creativity,” Ronan says dryly, but his eyes crinkle with affection in the rearview mirror.
“What’s so ... soff ... that word?” Ryan asks.
“Sophisticated,” I say. “It means fancy.”
“Like Daddy’s work parties?”
“Exactly like that,” I say, turning to smile at him. “Are you excited to see your grandma tonight?”
He lifts his small shoulders. “I guess. But I wanted to stay with you and Daddy.”
My heart cracks a little. “Your grandma and grandpa miss you. And we’ll see you again soon.” It’s a lie, but I can’t bear to tell him the truth—that after tonight, I’ll probably never see him again.
We pull up to a modern townhouse in an upscale neighborhood. Maggie opens the door before we even reach it.
“There’s my boy!” She kneels, arms open.
Ryan runs to her, his earlier reluctance forgotten. “Nana! We saw Santa and I got candy canes and Rayne tried on dresses and she looked like the night sky!”
She laughs, hugging him tight before standing to face us. Maggie gives me a quick hug and smiles. “Have fun at the gala. I know he’s had dinner, but there’s a cookie in his future if he’s good.”
Ryan pumps his fist.
“Say goodbye, buddy,” Ronan says.
Ryan throws his arms around my waist. “Bye, Rayne! I hope you have fun at the boring grown-up party.”
I hug him back, throat tight. “Thank you for being my fashion expert today.”
As we drive away, I stare out the window, blinking back tears.
Ronan’s hand finds mine. “He really adores you.”
“I adore him back.” My voice wobbles. “He’s an amazing kid. You raised him well.”
“He is.” Ronan’s thumb strokes my knuckles. “You’re good with him. Thank you.”
The simple praise warms me. “It’s not like it’s hard. He’s so open and warm.”
“Unlike his father?” Ronan’s tone is light, but his eyes are serious when I turn to him.