Chapter Thirty-eight
RONAN
Present Day
NEW YORK CITY
Jealousy looked good on her.
Yeah, it was probably a little twisted, but every time that spark of possessiveness flared in Nina’s eyes, it felt like proof that I still mattered. That somewhere beneath the walls she pretended didn’t exist, I still owned a piece of her heart.
Her voice replayed in my head like a curse and a blessing.
I don’t fucking want her calling you Ronan. Sue me.
I smiled to myself as I stood in the middle of Nina’s soon-to-be boutique. Empty now but buzzing with potential. Bare walls, wide floors, and a future that was about to belong to her.
I paced the space with a critical eye while Marco, the contractor, trailed behind me with a notepad.
“Track lighting here,” I said, pointing up. “Soft lighting in the main area. I want an office back there with a desk and a fridge. Sewing stations along the wall with outlets and storage.”
He nodded, scribbling fast.
“Marble or high-end tile for the floors. Dressing rooms need to be big, with full-length mirrors, and perfect lighting. No compromises.”
“Got it.”
I turned to Rachel. “I need the best in the industry on standby. Seamstresses, pattern makers, everyone. Put it all in one organized folder. No delays.”
She was already typing. “On it.”
As I walked the space again, satisfaction settled into my bones.
Nina would love this, even if she would never ask for it.
She would rather struggle than accept help, even though she deserved everything. She was brilliant, stubborn, compassionate, and so painfully unaware of her own worth that it made my chest ache.
“Ro— sir,” Rachel corrected herself.
I chuckled. “You can call me whatever you want. Nina is just… territorial.”
“Possessive?” she offered.
“That too.”
She updated me on timelines, and when I finally left, my schedule was wide open, and my energy was dangerously high.
On my way to the gym, my phone exploded with messages from the guys. It had been a while since I’d seen my friends—entirely my fault—and we were definitely overdue for a hangout.
Me
Anybody free tonight?
Reyes
Flirting with me?
Me
Not today.
Reyes
You’re missing out, and yes, I’m free.
Xander
I’m available.
Reyes
Thought you’d be all under your women.
Xander
Jealous?
Reyes
A little
Suarez
I am under mine.
Alex
Me too.
Dillon
Watch it, your woman is my sister.
And so the bickering between them continued until everyone else said they were free.
Me
La Fortuna? 9 pm?
Everyone agreed, and so our weekend plans were set.
I strode into the gym, the familiar scent of sweat and rubber filling the air, clad in a fitted black tank top and gray shorts.
After a quick warm-up, I powered through bench presses, squats, and deadlifts, each rep burning through my muscles.
The final weight crashed onto the rack with a metallic clang, sweat dripping down my temple as I checked the time—one hour, as planned.
My breath slowed as I reached for my phone, and the screen lit up with a message from Rachel.
Rachel
Don’t forget therapy with Dr. Saad at seven.
I exhaled sharply. As if I could forget. Skipping therapy wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted to keep my head above water.
I drove home, the steady rhythm of the tires on the road filling the silence. A quick shower, a change into something presentable, and soon I was back out, heading to Dr. Saad’s office. The waiting room was quiet, sterile. I had barely sat down before she opened her door.
“Ronan.” She nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Come in.”
I stepped inside, lowering myself onto the couch, elbows on my knees. No small talk, no pleasantries—I didn’t have the patience for it today.
“I know I shouldn’t be getting close to a patient,” I said, running a hand over my face. “But she reminds me so much of my mother. Her condition is critical, but I can’t stop being there.”
Dr. Saad studied me for a moment. “Tell me more.”
I exhaled, the words heavier than I expected.
“It’s like watching my mother all over again.
The same frailness, the same fight in her eyes, even when her body’s failing her.
I walk into the hospital room, and for a second, it’s like I’m back there, sitting at my mom’s bedside, wishing I could do something—anything—to stop the inevitable. ”
She nodded, thoughtful. “You’re grieving, Ronan. Grief doesn’t end because time passes. It transforms and lingers in unexpected ways.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So what? I just live with it?”
“No,” she said gently. “You learn to carry it differently. To let it exist without letting it consume you.”
I looked away, jaw tightening. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“You’re already trying, and you’ve been trying for years,” she said. “That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re showing up for her, even if it’s painful.”
I closed my eyes for a beat, letting the weight of her words settle. She was right. The grief would never leave, but maybe, just maybe, I could learn to hold it without letting it break me.
And for now, that had to be enough.
After therapy, I drove straight to pick up dinner for Nina. I had no idea if she’d even be home, but that wasn’t the point. It was an excuse. A reason to see her.
I ordered rich, homemade pizza and pasta from a small spot near Bryant Park, knowing she missed authentic Italian food. And because I couldn’t help myself, I grabbed a bouquet of peonies because I knew they’d make her smile.
When I knocked on her door, I braced myself. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of her.
The air in my lungs vanished. She stood there, barefoot, wrapped in a sweater that slid off one shoulder, her hair a little messy, her lips slightly parted in surprise. It genuinely felt like if I looked away, she’d disappear.
Snap out of it.
Her deep chocolate eyes met mine, anchoring me back to reality.
“Hey,” I said.
She blinked, her brows knitting together slightly. “What are you doing here?”
I lifted the bag of food and the bouquet. “I brought these for you. Thought you’d be missing Italian food.”
She took them carefully, her fingers brushing mine, and I saw the surprise flicker in her expression. “Thank you,” she said softly, though it was clear she hadn’t expected it.
She glanced down at the food, then sighed. “I’ve tried it all here. It doesn’t taste the same.”
“You haven’t tried this place.”
A small smile played on her lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Her eyes flicked over me then, noticing my jacket. “You’re going out?”
“With the guys.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Alright.”
I turned to leave, but before I could take a full step, she was suddenly in front of me, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Grazie, Ronan.”
I froze, then slowly turned back to her.
A radiant heat unfurled in my chest—more than gratitude, something fuller, something complete. A smile found me, and the words left my lips like second nature.
“Non c’è di che, tesoro.77”
She held my gaze for one last second before stepping back inside.
I walked away with a strange, unfamiliar weight in my chest—something close to fulfillment.
That feeling stayed with me all the way to La Fortuna.
The casino rose out of the night in a blaze of gold and glass, alive with light and noise and temptation. It wasn’t only a business.
It was mine.
I’d bought it two years ago on a whim—a reckless gamble, even by my standards. But something about the place had pulled at me. The energy. The history soaked into the walls. The echoes of laughter, desperation, and shattered dreams.
It had never been about the cards or the roulette wheels.
It was about the pulse of the place.
The way people walked in with hope burning in their eyes, their entire future resting on a single turn of fate.
La Fortuna reminded me of the truth most people refused to face:
Luck wasn’t real.
It was a beautiful, dangerous lie people told themselves before everything fell apart.
And tonight… I was standing in the heart of it.
“Good night, Dr. Romano,” James, a security personnel, greeted me, “Mr. Xander, Mr. Reyes, and Mr. Suarez are here waiting for you.”
I nodded and fixed my shirt. “Perfect.”
I walked into the VIP area and instantly spotted the three men sitting around the poker table.
“Ready to lose millions so early?” I shouted, gaining their attention.
“My favorite asshole,” Arnoldo sneered. “Good to see you, man.”
“I don’t recall ever losing anything,” Dillon said and turned his head to Mikkel.
“No comment,” Mikkel said with a chuckle, and I took my seat.
Nights like these were to die for, and by the time I got settled in and sent for the top-shelf alcohol, Alex and Lucio joined.
“About time you showed up, stronzos,” I teased, shuffling a deck of cards with expert precision.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replied, taking a seat between Mikkel and Dillon. “Let’s see if you guys can keep up tonight.”
The dealer handed out the chips, each of us receiving a generous stack. Money wasn’t an issue here; we were all wealthy enough to turn this into a night of high stakes and higher thrills.
“Alright, gentlemen, let’s play,” Arnoldo declared, adjusting his cufflinks before placing the opening bet.
The game began with the familiar rhythm of chips clinking and cards being dealt. We started with Texas Hold’em, and the first few rounds were light, each of us testing the waters and gauging the others’ strategies.
“So, Ronan,” Alex said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heard you’ve been seeing a lot of Nina lately. How’s that going?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not giving away any secrets tonight, Alex. Focus on the game.”
“Fine, keep your secrets,” Alex replied, smirking as he called Arnoldo’s raise.
The conversation flowed as freely as the drinks, each of us taking turns ribbing the others about business ventures, relationships, and the occasional scandal.
Dillon leaned back, assessing his hand with a critical eye. “I’m raising,” he said, pushing a significant pile of chips into the center. “Let’s see if any of you have the guts to follow.”
“Big talk from the guy who lost a fortune in Seattle last month,” Mikkel quipped, but he matched the raise without hesitation.
“I’m in,” I said, pushing my chips forward. The tension heightened as the dealer revealed the flop: Ace of Spades, King of Hearts, and Ten of Diamonds.
Lucio’s poker face was unreadable, but his eyes flickered with interest. “Check,” he said, the word a challenge in itself.
My brother wasn’t a man of many words.
Hell, he’d be here and wouldn’t even speak.
Alex and Arnoldo folded, leaving the four of us to battle it out. The turn card was the Queen of Clubs, and Dillon’s expression shifted subtly.
“Bet,” he announced, sliding more chips forward.
Mikkel raised an eyebrow. “Feeling lucky, are we? Call.”
I glanced at my cards and then at the board. The potential for a straight was there, and my instincts told me to go for it. “Raise,” I said, pushing in even more chips.
Lucio’s gaze narrowed, and after a moment’s hesitation, he folded. “You guys are crazy,” he muttered, leaning back to watch the showdown.
The river card was the Jack of Hearts, completing the straight. Dillon and Mikkel exchanged glances, their competitive spirits fully engaged.
“All in,” Dillon said, his voice steady.
Mikkel looked at his cards, then at the pile of chips. “You know what? Why not? All in.”
The tension was electric as the dealer revealed our hands. Dillon had two pairs, Kings and Jacks, but Mikkel’s flush with hearts took the win. The table erupted in a mix of groans and cheers, the thrill of the game infusing us all with adrenaline.
“How the…” Dillon started and rubbed a hand over his face. “Outdone yourself, Suarez.”
“Easy does it,” he muttered.
“Guess tonight’s your night, Mikkel,” I said, clapping him on the back.
“For now,” he replied, grinning. “But the night’s still young.”
The game continued, the stakes rising with each hand. Laughter and playful jabs echoed around the table, blending with the hum of the casino.
“Hey Alex, remember that time in college when you convinced us to sneak into the dean’s office?” Arnoldo said, a grin spreading across his face. “I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “How could I forget? We were so close to getting expelled. But hey, we got the exam answers, didn’t we?”
“The best part was, and if I remember correctly, it was Reyes who managed to charm the dean’s assistant into letting us off the hook,” Dillon added, raising his glass in a toast. “Smooth as ever.”
Arnoldo shrugged with a smirk. “What can I say? I’ve got skills beyond the poker table.”
The dealer dealt another hand, and the banter continued, each story more outrageous than the last.
“Remember our freshman year?” Dillon asked. “We threw that wild party in our dorm room, and we ended up with the entire floor getting written up?”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “Hey, that wasn’t our fault. Who knew the RA was such a stickler for rules?”
“Always an adventure with us,” I said, glancing at my cards. A decent hand but nothing spectacular. “I fold.”
“Remember the time we all crammed for that Econ final?” Lucio asked, a smile tugging at his lips. “We didn’t sleep for two days.”
“And still passed with A’s,” Alex added with a laugh. “Good times.”
By the end of the night, Mikkel was the big winner, his pile of chips towering over the rest.
“Looks like drinks are on you, Suarez,” Dillon said, clapping him on the back.
“Next time, gentlemen,” Mikkel replied with a grin.
We all stood, gathering our things and exchanging goodbyes.
“Doing this again soon?” Arnoldo asked.
“You know it,” I replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks for tonight, guys. I needed this.”