Chapter 14 Leila
LEILA
Ididn’t mean to eavesdrop on anything. I was walking past Ronan’s office, heading to the library upstairs, when I heard his and his father’s voices cutting through the air inside, loud enough for me to hear them. And when I heard my name, I couldn’t help but stop.
Couldn’t help but lean against the door, my ear pressed to it as I tried to figure out how their conversation involved me.
"—give the girl back to De Luca—"
My heart leaps, my throat tightening. Give me back? I can’t imagine Ronan agreeing to that. I can’t imagine him even considering it.
"—absolutely not—" Ronan's voice is tight with controlled anger.
"—make a show of it. Apologize for the misunderstanding—"
My hands start to tremble as the full horror of what I'm hearing washes over me.
Ronan's father wants to give me back to the Italian don. The man who was going to sell me, who was going to give me to someone who would hurt me in ways I don’t even want to begin to imagine.
Although I have. My nightmares are full of it now.
"—she doesn't belong to anyone—"
"—in his world, she does—"
The conversation continues, but the words start to blur together as panic takes over.
Ronan’s father is discussing me like I'm a piece of property, like Rocco has some right to me. I can’t imagine Ronan would give in, but it’s his father—the man who raised him, who presumably has more influence over him than anyone else in the world. And he wants me gone.
"—What matters is that you are seen as strong—"
"—revenge for your wife—"
I jerk back from the door, realizing that I’ve heard something that I was definitely not supposed to hear or know. My heart races, my pulse thudding in my ears, drowning anything else out.
Ronan was married.
Something happened to her.
I think back to the clothes that were too big for me, the ones that Ronan didn’t want to explain. He changed the subject when I asked. He wanted Rocco dead before he found me—he was at the warehouse that night to kill Rocco, before I became a distraction.
I can put the pieces together. But I’m not supposed to know any of this. There’s a reason Ronan hasn’t told me—it’s too painful to talk about, or he just doesn’t want me to know.
But it also casts his refusal of my offer and his clear guilt over wanting me in a different light.
"—she's a liability—"
I press my hand to my mouth to stifle the sob that wants to escape. A liability. That's what I am to Ronan’s father. A problem to be solved, a complication in their criminal empire.
But Ronan is fighting for me. Even against his own father, he's refusing to give me up.
The argument escalates, voices rising until I can hear every word clearly.
"— I’ll give you two days to think about it, Ronan—"
"—The girl goes back to De Luca, one way or another—"
"—you won't touch her—"
"—try to stop me—"
I barely manage to scuttle down the hall before Ronan’s father throws open the door, and I catch a glimpse of him—a tall, broad, imposing older man with hair that’s turning white and a short, well-kept beard.
He strides down the hall in the opposite direction from me, thank god, though I don’t think he would have noticed me even if he’d walked past me.
I want to go talk to Ronan. To thank him for not agreeing to give me up.
To ask him what this means, now. But I also don’t want him to know I eavesdropped—or to know that I might have heard anything about a wife that I’m not supposed to know about.
So instead, I go up to the library, sitting with a book that I can’t focus on.
His father said two days. Two days for Ronan to change his mind. I don’t think he will. So what happens then? My mind is racing, trying to process everything I've learned, trying to figure out what this means for me.
Ronan is protecting me, but at what cost? His father clearly has the power to override his decisions. And if he's willing to go against his own son to maintain their criminal alliances, what chance do I have?
I think about calling my mother, but what would I say?
That I'm trapped between two crime bosses who both see me as property? That the man who's been keeping me safe might not be able to protect me much longer? She has enough to worry about with her cancer treatments. She’s getting good care, and I know it’s helping her.
I’ve added to her worries before; I don’t want to do so now.
The day passes in a haze of anxiety. I try to read, try to eat the lunch Ida brings me, try to act normal. But every sound in the house makes me jump, every footstep in the hallway feels like it could be someone coming to take me away, though I know it isn’t. Not yet.
By evening, I'm a wreck. When Ronan doesn't come to dinner, I eat alone in the dining room, picking at food I can't taste while my imagination runs wild. Maybe his father convinced him. Maybe he's already made arrangements to hand me over. Maybe this is my last meal as a free woman.
I'm heading back to my room when I run into him in the hallway. He looks tired and out of sorts, with dark circles under his eyes and his button-down shirt wrinkled. The sight of him makes my chest tight.
“Leila.” He looks at me, running a hand through his hair as if to straighten it, but it only looks more disheveled. It looks like he’s been doing that all day. "We need to talk."
My stomach flips with anxiety, nausea flooding me at the thought that he could be about to tell me that he can’t do this. That he can’t risk his own family, his own inheritance, over someone he met two weeks ago.
"Okay,” I manage.
He leads me to his study. The last time I was in here was when I confronted him about Neil, and I try not to think about that.
The lights are bright this time, all of them on, removing any chance of the room feeling intimate.
The fire is crackling, and I sink down into one of the leather chairs in front of it, sliding my hands into my sweater sleeves and gripping them with my fingers.
"Is this about your father?"
He goes very still. "What do you know about my father?"
"I heard you arguing this morning." The confession comes out in a rush. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were shouting, and I heard my name, and I just… I know he wants you to give me back to De Luca. I don’t know anything else," I add, even though that’s a lie—the first one I’ve ever told him. I don’t want him to know I heard something about his wife.
Ronan closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck. How much did you hear?"
"Enough." My voice is barely above a whisper. "He said you have two days to reconsider. And if you don't, he'll handle it himself."
"Leila—"
"Are you going to do it?" The question bursts out of me before I can stop it. "Are you going to give me back to him?"
"No." The word comes out hard and absolute. "Never."
"But your father—"
"My father can go to hell."
The vehemence in his voice surprises me. In the short time I've known Ronan, I've sensed that his father's approval means everything to him. The idea that he would defy him, especially over me, seems impossible.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," he continues, his voice still hard. "Do you understand me? No one is taking you anywhere."
I want to believe him, but I can’t forget what I heard today. His father was very sure that Ronan’s protests didn’t matter. That Ronan would change his mind, or it would be changed for him. "How can you stop him? He's your father. He has power in your organization."
“I have power, too. I’m his heir. That matters, even if he wants to think he can easily undo it.”
"But if it comes down to choosing between me and your family—"
“It won’t,” Ronan says firmly. “There are ways to prevent that.”
I frown. “Ways?”
He draws in a slow breath and lets it out. "There’s a solution," he says, drumming his fingers against the back of the armchair in front of him. "One option that would solve all our problems."
I don’t know what he’s talking about, but a slow dread fills me anyway, a sense that something is happening that I’m not going to like.
As if I’ve liked anything that’s happened in the past few months.
"What kind of option?" I ask cautiously.
"Marriage."
He says it calmly, simply, but the word hits me like a physical blow. "What?"
"If we were married, there would be no question of turning you over to De Luca. You'd be family, protected by our laws and traditions. The Bratva—the Russian mafia that we’re allied with—would respect that, would stay neutral in any conflict. My father would be angry, but he couldn’t order me to turn you over any longer.
Iyla Sorokov—the leader of the Russians—would not expect me to. Everything changes if you’re my wife."
I blink at him, certain I've misheard. "You want to marry me?"
"It would solve the problem. Make you untouchable,” he deflects.
There’s no mention of want. Only the practical element.
“Rocco believes he owns you. But if I marry you, then I do. I could offer him restitution for you, if it came to it, a monetary payment. But no one would support him taking you back.” Ronan pauses.
“To be clear, I don’t believe that I own you. But that’s how others would see it.”
"But… marriage?" My voice comes out higher than intended. "That's… that's permanent." Or at least, I always wanted it to be. I always imagined it would be.
Ronan pauses. "It doesn't have to be,” he says finally. “Nothing changes in regards to my plans for Rocco. I will kill him, no matter what. We could divorce later, once the threat is eliminated. Once you're safe to return to your normal life."
That feels like a second blow. Marriage and divorce, brought up within a few sentences of each other. It feels like whiplash.
"A temporary marriage." I'm trying to wrap my head around this, trying to understand what he's suggesting. "Like a business arrangement."
"Exactly."
“Not unlike the offer I made you,” I point out wryly, and he flinches.