34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Nellie
I waited in front of my apartment for Ronan to pull up, pacing back and forth along the sidewalk so many times, I was surprised I wasn’t dizzy—or maybe I was already too dizzy from the questions spinning in my head. I had seen The Godfather , and I couldn’t imagine Ronan being like that. Could I?
When he pulled up, I got in the front seat, slamming the door shut and looking at him for a moment. He stared back, like he was trying to read my thoughts. “Tell me the truth,” I finally said, breaking the tense silence. “Are you in the mafia?”
“Nellie…”
“Ronan, the FBI came to my bakery!” I shrieked, the fear and frustration that had been swelling up inside and causing my hands to shake bursting from me. “They told me you’re dangerous!”
The car doors locked, and Ronan pulled away from the curb, still glancing at me every few seconds from the corner of his eye. “Let me take you somewhere.” He merged onto the road, entering traffic.
“Oh my God, you really are in the mafia.” The breath in my lungs that felt a bit like bravery rushed from me in a swift exhale, and panic rushed in. This can’t be real.
Ronan shook his head. “I told you. We don’t call it that.”
“Who are you?” I thought I had gotten to know him so well, but now, I didn’t think I knew him at all. I didn’t think I ever knew him. The FBI’s promises that Ronan and his family were dangerous had sunk their roots into my brain, and I couldn’t shake the thought. It won’t end well for you. “Are you going to hurt me?”
His head snapped toward me, and he glared. “Do you really think I’d ever hurt you?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. Still, my chest squeezed like someone was sitting on me, and I couldn’t take a deep breath or swallow past the lump that formed in my throat.
Ronan pulled over the car, earning a honk from the angry driver behind him when he didn’t signal. He ignored the blaring horn, throwing the car in park and turning in his seat. I gasped quietly when he grabbed my face, holding me still. “Do you really want the truth?” His voice was scornful, scary enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then you have to trust me.” His gaze was hard, but he softened his voice. “Can you do that?” Could I?
“I trust you,” I whispered, still shaking but settling into the soft leather seat.
He put the car back in drive, pulling away from the curb. His shoulders were more relaxed, but his hold on the steering wheel was still as firm. “Good,” he said, slipping back into traffic.
We drove in silence, listening only to the hum of tires against asphalt roads that desperately needed to be repaved and our mismatched breathing. Every time we passed a police car, I wondered if they were watching us, or if they knew who Ronan was. Then, I’d sink into the seat more, continuing to stare out the window.
When Ronan reached over and put his hand on my thigh, I diverted my gaze from the passing buildings to his possessive grip. When he squeezed, some of the nerves that flitted around my stomach dissipated. There was a warmth in his palm that felt like the promise he had made more than once—protection. My hand drifted over to rest on top of his, and I swore his lips twitched with the first traces of a smile. Was it relief? That was how it felt to me.
The street we should’ve turned down to go to Anthony’s passed on the right, but we didn’t turn. Ronan kept driving a few more blocks, turning left toward a collection of mostly abandoned warehouses. I watched the old brick and occasional splatter of graffiti blur outside the window before he turned again, pulling down an alleyway and into a small area between a few warehouses.
“Where are we?” I asked, resting my hand on the buckle for my seatbelt but not pushing the button to release it, even when he unbuckled his.
He looked at me then at one of the warehouses and opened the car door. “One of the buildings we own.”
“We?” I asked, finally hitting the button to take my seatbelt off. He closed the car door, rounding the front and opening mine.
“Yes. My family.” He put out his hand, and I took it, stepping out of the car. “Let’s go.”