Chapter 21 #2
I feel the same, except I also feel unmoored, floating.
When I can occupy myself, I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, but every time I’m around Ronan, I feel as if I’m coming unraveled.
And spending two nights sleeping in the same bed with him hasn’t helped.
He hasn’t tried to touch me, but I can feel the tension between us, pulsing with all the things we both want and don’t act on.
The morning after he came back, I know I heard him in the bathroom when I woke up, pleasuring himself instead of fucking me.
I almost went and walked in on him again, but I forced myself to stay in bed, my hand sliding down between my own thighs as I strained to hear the heavy breathing and low groans in the bathroom, imagining what he was doing. Imagining him thinking of me.
I came seconds before I heard the sink turn on, and when Ronan walked out and caught my eye, I had a feeling that he knew as well as I did what we’d both been doing.
He avoided me for the rest of the day, until dinnertime.
He leaves the next morning, after three days of us passing each other in halls, sharing meals, and sleeping next to each other while the tension winds tighter and tighter. He doesn’t kiss me goodbye, doesn’t promise when he’ll be back, and I can see how tense he is.
Then it’s just me and my mom and Mrs. O’Brien again, rattling around the huge house.
It rains in the afternoon, and I get Colin to light a fire for me when he does one of his rounds. My mom finds me there, coming in to sit down next to me as I set the book that I’ve been trying to read down on my lap.
“You look like you’re brooding,” she says wryly, and I bite my lip.
“I’m just reading,” I say defensively, and she chuckles.
She glances at the book in my hands—a collection of Irish poetry that I picked up randomly. "You’ve been in here for a while, and it looks like you’ve managed three or four pages.”
I look down and realize she's right. "I was just… thinking."
She looks at me knowingly. "About Ronan."
It's not a question. My mother has always been able to read me like an open book, and apparently that hasn't changed now that we're living in an Irish manor house.
I sigh, setting the book on the side table next to the tea Mrs. O’Brien brought me. "It's complicated, Mom."
“I’m sure it is.” She sighs, settling back into the chair across from me, the fire crackling merrily next to us. “But I can see the way you look at each other. He’s got it as bad for you as you do for him.”
"No, he doesn’t." The denial comes automatically. "He's attracted to me, maybe. But that's not the same thing."
"Oh, sweetheart." Her smile is infinitely patient. "You really don't see it, do you?"
I frown. "See what?"
“As soon as you walk into a room, he finds you. He listens when you talk. Looks at you when you’re not looking at him. It seems pretty clear to me that the two of you aren’t sleeping together, or at least, not doing anything other than sleeping—”
“Mom!” My face turns bright red. “We don’t need to talk about this.”
“Maybe we do.” She cocks her head slightly.
“It’s clear that you want each other, and that there’s chemistry between the two of you.
But you said it was an arrangement. So what’s really going on here, Leila?
” She leans forward. “Why did someone shoot up a church on your wedding day? What benefit are you getting from this marriage that isn’t what you obviously want from your husband that he’s not giving you? ”
I bite my lip. The urge to keep secrets that have been embedded in me since I arrived at Ronan’s feels strong, but I think my mom is owed answers at this point. And it would feel good to talk to someone about it.
“I told you I took out a bad loan,” I say softly.
“I went to a loan shark for money. I thought I could keep up with the payments, I really did. But I fell behind just before Thanksgiving. He had some of his guys grab me, hit me, threaten me. That’s where the bruises came from.
” I swallow hard, looking at her guiltily. “I’m sorry I lied.”
My mother’s face has gone pale. She reaches out to touch my hand. “No, honey. I’m sorry that you thought you needed to…” She breaks off. “Just tell me the rest.”
So I do. I tell her about being drugged, kidnapped, locked in a cage. I tell her about Ronan being at the warehouse that night for reasons of his own, and how he brought me back home with him.
“It turns out the guy who bought my debt is an Italian mafia boss,” I say quietly.
“And Ronan is the head of the Irish mafia. So by saving me, he stepped on this other guy’s territory, I guess.
His father and his allies wanted him to give me back.
He refused, and the only way to keep it from happening was for me to marry him. ”
My mom looks stunned. “I…” She pauses, and I can tell that she has no idea what to say— which, I think, is probably normal when your daughter tells you that she’s married a mafia boss.
“That’s not what I expected,” she says finally, sitting back. “Although it all makes a lot more sense now. Leila… mafia? That’s what you’ve gotten mixed up in?”
“To be fair, I only intentionally got mixed up with the loan shark,” I point out wryly. “But yeah… that’s what it’s turned into.”
“He doesn’t seem like a mob boss,” my mom says thoughtfully. “Not what I would have pictured one being like, anyway.”
I think of Ronan coming home that night with Neil’s blood caked in his fingernails, and I say nothing, just nod. “He is different,” I say finally, and that is true. Ronan is not what I would have ever imagined.
“And he’s kind to you. And to me.” My mom lets out a breath, staring at the fire. She looks back at me after a moment. “He’s never hurt you, right? Never—”
“No!” I say it emphatically, shaking my head. “No, never. He’s… a good man, in that respect. Even if he does some things that… aren’t.”
“We all have our flaws.” My mom chuckles. “A mafia boss.” She presses her lips together, a small smirk on her mouth as she looks back at me. “It’s kind of hot.”
“Mom.” I look at her, aghast, and she laughs.
“What? You’re a married woman now, we can talk about this. So it’s an arrangement for your safety. Which is in question, obviously, after what happened at the church. And that’s why we’re here.”
“That’s pretty much the sum of it.” I stare at my fingernails for a moment. “You figured it all out,” I tease lightly, and she laughs.
“Well, I was a professor. I’m not stupid, and neither are you. And I don’t think Ronan is the worst thing that could have happened to you. Clearly, the worst thing is what he saved you from. That counts for something.”
“The marriage is temporary.” It spills out of my lips before I can stop it, and I look at my mom for a long beat before I speak again. “Just until Rocco… the boss who bought me… is…”
“Dead,” my mom supplies, and I stare at her, shocked at the simple way she says it.
“Mom—”
“If he trafficks women, he deserves it,” she says flatly. “And I’m glad that your husband is the kind of man who would do that to a man like the one who stole my daughter.”
I blink, looking at my mom with new eyes.
This is a more fierce side of her, something I’ve never seen before, and it startles me.
“Anyway,” I manage finally, “the marriage isn’t going to last. We’re going to get a divorce after this is all over.
Which is why…” I blow out a breath. “It’s not exactly playing out like a traditional marriage, if you get my meaning.
Ronan doesn’t want any complications, and neither do I.
But you’re the only one who knows,” I add.
“The security, Mrs. O’Brien, they all think this is real, and it needs to stay that way. ”
“Of course,” my mom agrees. “But I think you should reconsider divorcing him.”
“What?” I stare at her. “Mom, I… that was never in the cards. That’s not possible.”
“Why not?” she argues. “I see how the two of you look at each other, we’ve already addressed this.
It’s clear you both want something you’re not giving each other.
Why not try? He wants you, and you want him.
He’s handsome and kind and giving, and you’re beautiful and smart and capable.
There have been much worse marriages made with far less. ”
She’s not wrong, but… my chest tightens.
“Even if there was something more there, which there isn’t,” I add, “it doesn’t matter.
Ronan would never act on it. He’s too closed off, too controlled.
He’s not going to love me—this isn’t about love.
And I do want love, in a real marriage. I want a husband who adores and cherishes me, if I ever were to get married.
And anyway… I don’t want to be a mob boss’s wife!
I don’t want violence and fear, and always spending my life wondering if he's coming home, wondering if someone's going to try to hurt him or use me to get to him. I can't live in that world."
“You’re in it now,” my mom points out. “Maybe something good has come of it. If it’s a moral thing, then yes, I understand, but if it’s about living in fear…”
“It’s not the morals, so much,” I admit, feeling my cheeks burn. “I think Ronan tries to do good, as much as he can. I know there’s crime, and that kind of thing, but… I don’t care about that as much as I probably should.” I bite my lip. “But it isn’t about living in fear, either…”
"It's entirely about fear, then." Her voice is firm but not unkind.
"You're afraid of getting hurt, afraid of caring about someone whose life is dangerous, afraid of not being enough for him.
But honey, life is dangerous for everyone.
I have cancer. You could get hit by a bus tomorrow. There are no guarantees."
I stare at her. “Are you actually saying I should consider staying married to an Irish mafia kingpin? If we both wanted to?”
"I'm saying that boy has moved heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make me comfortable, to give us both hope when we didn't have any.
I'm saying he looks at you like you hung the moon, and you look at him the same way when you think no one's watching.
" She gives me a soft, sad smile. "I'm saying life is short, Leila. Too short to waste it on fear."
“That’s true,” I say quietly. “But this is all really complicated, Mom. More complicated than even I know how to explain. And I don’t think that’s in the cards for us.
From the very beginning, we agreed this was temporary.
He hasn’t given me any reason to think that’s changed…
and I really don’t know if I want it to.
I’d barely been out on a date before this.
Deciding to stay married to a man I barely know is… ”
“I’m not saying you should do that,” my mom agrees hurriedly. “I’m just saying that maybe the two of you shouldn’t fight what’s going on between you quite so hard.”
I think about that, long after my mom leaves me there in the library.
I know Ronan wants me—his desire is impossible to hide.
And I’ve felt it, when we were together on our wedding night, and those brief moments after on the jet.
But I can’t fathom that it’s more than just that…
more than just sexual. And as for everything he’s done for me and for my mom…
Guilt. Obligation. Those two words come to mind every time, and I can’t see how it’s anything more than that.
Ronan comes back to the manor three days later.
He arrives in the evening, just after we’ve finished dinner, and I hear the sound of him going upstairs.
I force myself to finish my food, feeling my mom’s knowing eyes on me, and I wait on pins and needles to see if he comes down.
When he doesn’t, I forego dessert to go up and see what he’s doing.
I open the bedroom door to the warmth of the humidity from the shower seeping out into the large room, and the scent of Ronan’s pine soap.
I close the door carefully behind me, fighting the urge to go in and join him in the shower.
A second later, the water turns off, and I freeze, wondering if he’s going to be upset that I didn’t wait for him to come find me.
The bathroom door opens before I can decide whether to leave or stay, and every thought flees my head as Ronan fills the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel.