6. Ronan
“For the love of everything good, stop doing that,” I snap at Olivia bouncing her leg beside me.
She knows I can’t stand it, reoccurring movements or sounds make me want to claw my brains out.
“I can’t help it,” she says, chewing on her nails.
Right now, she doesn’t look like the Olivia I met a week ago in her store. There’s a shadow of the high-school Olivia. The confidence from that day is gone, and I see her weakness, a girl I want to comfort and protect.
But for now, I can’t. I have to get to the root of everything. I need to sieve through the surface and things.
I unbutton the first three buttons of my dress shirt. “You have to pull yourself together,” I say, starting to unhook the cufflinks on my sleeves, a gift from my father.
In the end, the wedding was all a waste of time, money, resources, and most fucking importantly, my fucking energy.
“What will happen to me?” Olivia drops her hands between her lap and claps her legs together to keep her from fidgeting.
I flip my eyes to the driver, who is one of my men, but on the passenger seat beside him is one of Cesare’s men, who said he was coming with me to make sure that Olivia does not leave.
The plan is to hold her until I find a way out of this mess. I doubt it was her fault at this point, but I can’t find any solid fucking proof that I’m right.
“For now,” I clear my throat and breathe quietly, “you tell me the truth, and we will see from there,” I fold the sleeve of my dress shirt.
“And why am I not going to the cops instead? Why am I going…” she looks out the window, “I don’t even know where you are taking me,” she whimpers, “Are you taking me to…”
I shut her up by pulling her to myself to whisper in her ears, hoping she will fucking listen this time and shut the fuck up for real until we get to a place that is just the both of us.
“You can ask me all the questions you want when we are alone, but for now, shut up, please,” I say as I drink in her intoxicating scent.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I peel away from her, and she nods, shifting back to her side of the backseat, which is at the other end of it.
I just lost my wife, and here I am, craving the woman who is somehow responsible for her death.
I focus on folding the other sleeve of my dress shirt and try to compose myself.
I’m still so aware of her.
I would have thought all these years after the break-up would have fixed that. I have always found her desirable, but even now that she is my nemesis, I can’t seem to separate that feeling from what I should actually be feeling.
The car pulls into the front gate of my manor, or dark castle, as Riley likes to call it.
“This is where you get out,” I don’t have to meet his eyes, Cesare’s man nods and unfastens his seatbelt.
“I will let him know she is with you, as promised,” he alights, and I watch him make a call for someone to come pick him up.
“We are here. It’s safe,” I try to reassure her.
The gate opens, letting us into a narrow, dark driveway. As the blue lights come on to light the path, I can feel her sit up.
Anyone coming here for the first time reacts this way. Being surrounded by a lot of people bothers me, so I prefer to rely on modern technology for security and a few men for protection. I have more men surrounding the manor, so I have backup if needed.
Another gate opens, guiding us to the manor in the distance. The stairway leading to the main door has whiskey-goldlighting.
“This is your house?” She sits straighter, and from the corner of her eyes, I can see them spreading wide as she takes the building in.
It’s worth what I spent on it to see her react this way.
The car parks a little away from the house, and I’m the first to get out.
I walk to the stairs, Olivia scurrying behind me quietly. I like that she is coming at her own free will. She hurries so she catches up with me. I smile internally at her gapping as she takes in the manor every step of the way.
“Welcome,” I stop in front of the main door, which opens after checking us. “Someone will take you to your room, which is the guest room in my quarter. Eat, freshen up, and I will join you soon.” She nods, keeping all her questions for later, as told.
“Thank you,” she swallows.
We both fall into the quiet humming in the sitting area as my butler steps out in his uniform of a white shirt and navy-blue slacks, even though he hardly qualifies as a chef.
“Welcome, boss,” he bows briskly with his usual lighthearted tone and then smiles at Olivia. “Welcome, Olivia,” his warm blue eyes light up in excitement as he observes her.
“Thank you,” if she is surprised he knows her name, she doesn’t say. She is a smart girl. She can put two and two together.
Pedro was one of the people I called from the wedding hall after discussing with Cesare how it would be better to let the cops feel involved in the process.
“This is my butler,” I point at Pedro with a flick of my index finger, “I will be in my bedroom, take her to hers, and make sure she is settled in,” I stalk away, taking the row of stairs up to my quarters to freshen up and mentally prepare myself for what’s to come.
“She is in good hands,” Pedro nods at me, but I’m already walking into my quarter.
I rid myself of my shirt and pants, then stalk into my bathroom.
My thoughts resume as I step under my gold and brown shower. If it wasn’t Olivia who killed Barbara, who could it have been? What could the person’s motive have been? Was the person coming after me or Cesare?
Where do I even start to fucking look for clues?
I lather the citrus bath wash Riley keeps shopping for me on my body
Just this morning, I was going to get married, but now, I’m a… I’m a fucking widower.
Done with my shower and having successfully not gone crazy overthinking things, I change into a simple white sweater and gray sweatpants and head for the bedroom I know Olivia would be settled into by now.
It’s the opposite hallway from the one leading to my bedroom. This floor is exclusively mine, even though a few people can access Olivia”s room . No one has stayed there until now.
I knock on her door and she opens it immediately.
“Hey,” she drops her eyes to the floor, and I step in.
“Hey,” I squint at the brightness in the room, but it’s the fact that she is in a robe that punches the breath out of my lungs.
“I just got out of the shower,” she says as she closes the door. “I thought it was Pedro.”
I tear my eyes away from her freshly washed face and the droplets on her neck area that I want to run my tongue on.
“You didn’t touch your food?” I stalk to the chaise longue on one side of the wall and drag the cart of food towards me.
“I wasn’t very hungry, but I ate some grapes and had a smoothie,” she fiddles with the belt of the black wooly robe. She takes a step towards the bed but then changes her mind and comes to sit in front of me.
“You have to eat,” I push the cart to the side of the chaise longue and focus on her eyes.
She stares at me with those onyx beauties, and her lips twitch as I hold her gaze. I am not oblivious to her breathing hitching or the shifts in her poise. I am not oblivious to the heat brewing in my stomach or the blood rushing to my cock.
I can sniff the freshness of the fruity body wash she used, and it makes me want to eat her up—lick her up. I love fruit. I could survive on just fruit. I wonder if I could survive by eating only her instead.
I break eye contact as the thought of her spread about on the mattress and my face buried between her legs, tasting her, invades my mind.
I don’t pretend to care so much that Barbara is dead. What I’m doing is not because I cared about her. I care about what is at stake. And I want to respect her.
“Why did you do it?” I clear my throat and pick up a bottle of water on the cart to distract myself.
“It wasn’t me,” she leans down, bringing her legs to her chest.
“Then who did it?” I crush the bottle of water and let go as she flinches slightly.
“I don’t know,” she sniffles, and I tut for her to suck it up, “Will he kill me?” I know who, and I want to tell her that no one will touch her while I’m alive, but I shrug instead.
“Why did you marry into such a family?”
“It’s no different from mine, Olivia.” I lean back on the chaise longue and open the bottle of water to wash away some of the huskiness in my tone.
“Who are you people?” she asks, “or I should not be asking because it could implicate me if I know too much?”
“How much of Hollywood crap have you been watching?” I sip from the water.
“Enough to know that what I saw earlier is like something from those crime boss movies,” she chews on her lower lip, “I always thought there was something weird about you.”
I sit back up now, “Was that part of the reason you broke up with me?”
She shakes her head, “It wasn’t,” she swallows, “But it kept me up at night.”
I lean forward now, resting my elbows on my knees to mirror her position.
“We would never have made it past high school,” I chuckle sadly, “This life isn’t for you, and I care too much about you to bring you anywhere close to it, even now,” I close the bottle of water and drop it on the floor.
Excuses.
I’m sitting here scraping for excuses as to why kissing her and touching her is a bad idea.
“I’m tougher than you think,” she swats her damp hair behind her ears and drags her hands across her face. “I can be tough,” she mumbles the second part, and I chuckle.
“You don’t know how strong I can be,” she shrugs, “How strong I can be for you,” she drops her eyes to my lips, and I run my tongue across them, watching her lick hers and suck in a deep breath.
I want her.
I need her.
Olivia was the only woman I have ever allowed into my heart; it was the most genuine relationship I’ve ever had. She is the closest to heaven I ever got. She had a way of making me let go and just live without chips on my shoulders, and even now, I want to do that.
I wonder what it would be like to date her now as a full-grown woman, to not have the limitations we used to have in high school.
“What are we doing?” I whisper, and she leans forward, giving me her answer by pressing her soft lips against mine. I don’t pull away, but I also don’t lead her on, “I’m married, Olivia,” I try to find excuses to keep this from happening further.
“You are a widower, a free man, and I didn’t kill her… but is it bad of me to say I’m glad she is not in the picture anymore?” She presses firmer on my lips, and I breathe quietly, as quietly as I can, to mask the fact that my restraint is weakening.
I agree with her. As fucked up as this might sound, I’m relieved that Barbara is not the one in this room right now.
“Olivia…” I’m trying to peel my lips away, but I find that my hands are on another mission as I rip her off the coffee table and place her on my lap, one hand going to the back of her head to slink my fingers into her wet hair, while the other press against her lower back to hold her to my body.
I take control of the kiss.
Her breathing accelerates, as does mine. She is so soft. I can feel her against my hand, and her taste is just so fucking succulent. Bananas and grapes.
I sling my tongue into her mouth, and she parts to take it. I swallow every one of her moans as I groan into the kiss.
I could do this forever.
I could stay here and forget there is a world out there to get back to.
I want her.
I want her because it feels like coming home. It makes the fight and hassle worth it. It gives me something to fight for. To live for. To survive for.
She gives me life—the very essence of it—and I hadn’t known until now that I would reconnect with her in this way.
But I need to protect her.
I slow the kiss and lean my forehead against her forehead, then very slowly set her beside me on the chaise longue.
“There’s work to do, Olivia,” I brush her soft, flushed cheek, and her eyes droop as she tilts her head, attempting to take my thumb in her mouth.
“I will see you later,” I can’t fight it; I lean down and kiss her one last time, nip her lower lip, and pull away.
She keeps her eyes closed and her breathing staggering.
There is so much to do.
The world outside, our world, is not kind. Cesare will not listen to her. No one out there would believe she didn’t kill Barbara.
I have to find a way to fix this before I go mental.