Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Ryan
"If you're too tired tonight, we can do it another day. Whatever works for you."
I stared at those words, "whatever works for you," and something felt off.
Ronan Valerius didn't do accommodating. He didn't bend for anyone.
This wasn't him. I was about to type "not going" when another message came through.
An address. The second I saw the restaurant name, I froze. Marta's Kitchen.
I'd been dying to try this place. It was tucked away in an old neighborhood, run by a woman who'd learned to cook from her grandmother.
Last time Lulu and I walked past, the smell of tomato risotto nearly stopped us in our tracks.
How did Ronan know? Was he following me again?
Anger flared. I typed "not going" fast, but my thumb hovered over send.
I couldn't say why I hesitated. Maybe because these past few days, we'd been up together with Rose through those brutal nights. Maybe curiosity—what was this prickly, untouchable man really after?
"Fine," I finally sent back.
Before leaving at five, I ducked into Rose's room and pulled Emily aside. "Get extra people tonight. Don't leave Rose's side. Not for a second."
"Yes, Miss Clark! I promise I won't even blink!" Emily's fist clenched like she was taking an oath.
Her earnest intensity made me smile. I patted her shoulder. "Relax. Victoria's gone."
When I got to the restaurant, Ronan was already at a window table. He'd dressed up—tailored black shirt that showed off his shoulders and narrow waist, hair perfectly styled. More polished than the first time I'd met him. The girl at the next table had already snapped several photos.
He stood when I walked in and pulled out my chair. We sat facing each other. Neither spoke first. I pretended to study the menu. He held his water glass without drinking, fingers rubbing the rim again and again. Finally, he broke the silence.
"That night..." His jaw was tight. "I'm sorry."
The menu almost slipped from my hands.
Ronan wasn't a considerate boss. Marco and Declan had been chewed out plenty. I'd never heard this man apologize to anyone.
"It's-it's fine. Water under the bridge." My voice came out shaky. I hadn't planned to forgive him easily, but seeing him like this, awkward and sincere... forget it.
"Ryan." Ronan suddenly grabbed my hand. "I mean it. You were right. I shouldn't have blown up at you before knowing the truth. I—"
I pulled my hand back. "Okay, really. It's done. Let's... Let's just order." I pushed the menu toward him. Finally, he dropped it.
"Rose's trauma regression was severe this time, but we caught it early. That's what matters." I sipped my water, trying to steady myself.
"I should've made Victoria leave sooner."
"Now's not too late." I tried to comfort him. "You did the right thing. That's enough."
He nodded. I pulled a drawing from my bag and slid it across. "Rose made this herself."
Ronan took it and unfolded it carefully. Three crooked stick figures standing close together. The little one in the middle held hands with the two bigger ones on either side, her face full of joy.
He stared at that drawing. For a long time. I'd completely mangled my olive by the time he looked up.
"This picture," he hesitated, "what's she trying to say?"
"She wants a whole family," I answered. "A father, a mother. People who'll stay with her. Forever."
Ronan's eyes went red, moisture pooling in that gray gaze. I'd never seen him this vulnerable.
"This is my fault."
My heart softened. This man could fix anything except how to love a child, how to fill that emptiness inside her.
After that, the awkwardness between us dissolved. We talked more than we had in months combined.
By the time we finished, it was dark outside. Warm yellow streetlight spilled through the window, bringing a gentle, lived-in glow.
"Back to the manor?"
"I need to go home first." I rubbed my head sheepishly. "Promised Lulu."
I expected him to refuse. He didn't. Just nodded and opened the passenger door.
"Come on. I'll drive you."
The car stopped downstairs. Lulu came out to meet me. The second she opened the door, her eyes went huge, face frozen in disbelief. Once Ronan's taillights disappeared around the corner, she yanked me inside.
"Ryan Clark!"
"Shh—"
"You just... You were in Ronan Valerius's car?"
"Yes."
Lulu pushed me onto the couch and perched on the coffee table across from me, poking my forehead repeatedly. "Okay, girl. Start talking. Every. Single. Detail."
She kept jabbing until I gave up dodging and told her everything. When I got to "Marta's Kitchen," she nearly launched off the table.
"Wait." She held up a hand. "You mean the Marta's Kitchen I told you about? The one I was gonna take you to for your birthday?"
"Yeah."
"You mentioned it to him?"
"No."
"Then how'd he know?"
"I don't know."
Lulu stared at me. My scalp prickled.
"Lulu, just say it, you're creeping me out..."
"You're done for." She poked my forehead again. "Ryan, you're really gonna fall this time."
"I'm not..." I protested, face burning.
"You sure?"
"Really, I'm not..."
"Uh-huh." Lulu clearly didn't buy it. She hopped off the table and headed for the kitchen. "Fine. We'll see. I bet you fifty bucks—one month, you're head over heels."
"You're on."
Friday afternoon, I left campus, and the sky opened up in a downpour. The driver couldn't make it, so I held my bag over my head and ran for the subway. A car pulled up in front of me.
"Get in."
Ronan waved me over. God, he was a lifesaver! I jumped in, dripping water all over the seat. He handed me a towel. I took it and scrubbed at my face.
"What are you doing here?"
"On my way."
"Your way from the manor, across half the city, just happens to pass my school?"
Caught, his ears went pink. "I'm bad with directions."
Watching him try to keep a straight face, I couldn't help laughing. Ronan pulled a cashmere blanket from the console and handed it over.
"Wrap up. Don't catch a cold."
I took the blanket and draped it around myself. The car rolled smoothly along. We chatted about nothing in particular. Outside, rain hammered the roof. Inside, everything felt warm.
"Ryan. There's a charity gala Saturday night. I'd like you to come with me. As my date."
I shook my head without thinking. "I'm not part of your world. I'd be uncomfortable, and you'd regret bringing me."
"Rose is going too. She's been doing so well lately. I thought taking her to normal social situations might help her recovery. But," he paused, "if you're not there, I won't feel right about it."
That card. I couldn't refuse that card.
"Fine."
"I'll have a dress sent over."
The night of the gala, I spent all afternoon getting ready. When I finally looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
Ronan appeared at my door, eyes burning as they took me in. He offered his arm. Rose held my hand, hair pulled into a neat little bun that showed her smooth forehead. She looked like a porcelain doll.
"Ryan, you're so pretty," she said, gazing up at me.
"You're pretty, too." I bent and kissed her forehead.
In the car, Ronan gave me the basics. "Tonight's gala is fundraising for the children's hospital. Lots of business partners will be there. And some... people I know." I caught the hesitation in his voice but didn't press.
The Plaza's grand ballroom was all crystal chandeliers and golden light. Ronan drew every eye the moment we entered.
"Ronan!" A man who looked like a medieval lord strode over. "Long time."
"Thompson." Ronan shook his hand politely. "This is Ryan Clark, Rose's therapist."
I smiled and nodded, privately wondering why someone dressed for a costume party was at a charity gala. Thompson's gaze swept over me, assessing.
Then came round after round of introductions. Ronan kept my hand tucked in his arm, telling everyone who I was. Declan materialized at the right moments to deflect the too-direct questions.
Rose stayed quiet beside me, occasionally looking around with curiosity. She was doing better than I'd expected—no signs of distress. Everything was going smoothly.
"She's brave," I murmured to Ronan.
"Like me." He smiled, proud.
I rolled my eyes internally. Narcissist.
A commotion erupted near the side entrance. A disheveled, haggard man broke through security and stumbled into the ballroom.
Dustin. He looked worse than last time—thinner, new and old scars crisscrossing his cheekbones and jaw, clothes hanging wrinkled on his frame.
He lurched toward me and pointed. "Look at you, my princess, shacked up with some rich guy and suddenly you don't know me?"
The ballroom went silent. Hundreds of eyes landed on me.
I set my champagne down. I was shaking with rage, but I didn't let it show.
"Dustin. We broke up. You threatened me. Blackmailed me. Wanted my money for drugs. You think there's anything left between us?"
Dustin's face went purple. He hadn't expected me to air his dirty laundry in public. He swung at me, hand raised. I braced for the hit. But in the next second, a tall figure stepped between us. Ronan caught Dustin's wrist in his left hand. Bone clicked audibly out of place.
Ronan turned to face the crowd. "Ryan is my daughter's therapist and my invited guest tonight. Any disrespect toward her is disrespect toward the Valerius family."
The ballroom fell so quiet you could hear heartbeats. I stared at Ronan's back, eyes stinging.
"Dustin? Seems like you forgot your lesson last time."
Right. After Dustin harassed me, he'd vanished. I'd thought Nick had scared him off. I never imagined Ronan had been the one to quietly handle it.
Ronan didn't spare Dustin another glance. Marco appeared from somewhere, arm around Dustin's shoulders, half-dragging him out the side door.
The orchestra struck up "Moon River," the melody filling the space. Declan led Rose toward a side lounge.
Ronan's eyes found mine again. He squeezed my trembling fingers. Then he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
Months ago, when I'd fallen on that lawn, humiliated and hurting, he'd wrapped his jacket around me. Exactly like this. Exactly the same.
"You solve everything with your jacket."
He didn't answer. But his grip on my wrist tightened, degree by degree.
On the drive back, Rose fell asleep against my leg. Ronan sat on my other side.
As we passed West 72nd Street, he broke the silence. "Ryan. I'll handle Dustin."