Chapter Ten
"BILLIONAIRES?" I GASP out. "Everyone here is a billionaire? "
It's my bridal and baby shower combined, with Redwood Cafe transformed for one special night into a place of magic and fairytales, and what was once a masculine interior has turned into a whimsical landscape, with the ceiling completely covered with blue and pink flowers and concealed projectors turning the walls into evening skies filled with dragonflies flying all over the place.
Everyone has been so warm and welcoming, but the best thing of all is having Story and my goddaughter Ellana with me. Ellana, with her cherub cheeks and infectious giggles, has been the star of the show, with the royal toddler wowing everyone with the sheer magnitude of her impossible-for-a-toddler vocabulary.
Instead of 'big', she says 'gargantuan.'
Instead of 'hard', she says 'complex'.
And when we asked her how she had learned all of these "gargantuan" words, Ellana suddenly had an angelic look on her face as she answered our question.
'Classified.'
It's an almost perfect night, really, except for this part where my close friend tells me the truth about our remote but not-so-ordinary little town.
Kady squeezes my hand in sympathy as I struggle to wrap my head around the truth. "You'll get used to it eventually." A rueful smile touches the other woman's lips. "It's not like you have a choice. Ronan's a billionaire, too, you know."
Oh .
Kady's eyes widen.
Right .
I'm vaguely aware of Kady looking at Story, and then all the girls are looking at each other.
"Ronan's a billionaire."
It's only when everyone bursts into laughter that I realize I've blurted the words out.
Hmph .
I make a face at them, but this only has everyone laughing harder. Oh, please. Can't they cut me some slack? Having billionaires as next-door neighbors is already a stretch, but for my fiancé to be one as well?
"So let me get this straight," I say, once the laughter dies down. "Hartland isn't just some random small town. It's a... what? A billionaire sanctuary?"
"The Hartland Initiative," Story explains, bouncing Ellana on her knee. "A place where the wealthy and famous can live normal lives away from the public eye."
"That's why there's no internet," Blake adds. "And why the town looks poor on paper."
"But the hospital..." I murmur, thinking of the state-of-the-art facility where Ronan works. "The bookstore... everything is so..."
"Nice?" Frankie supplies with a grin. "That's because we have the money to make it nice, but we keep it subtle. Well, subtle-ish."
I think back to my first impressions of the bus station when I arrived—how everything seemed too perfect, too polished. How the entire setup felt staged somehow.
Because it was.
My mind reels as pieces fall into place. The way Ronan appeared at precisely the right moment to help me buy my ticket. The luxurious but empty bus. The "coincidence" of him being seated next to me for that long journey.
None of it was a coincidence.
"Oh my gosh," I breathe. "Did Ronan know who I was before I even got on that bus?"
A BILLIONAIRE, I find myself thinking once again as a cab takes me back to Ronan's place. I'm actually dating a billionaire, and I still don't know how to feel about it.
I rest my hand on my swollen belly, but all I can sense is calmness and peace from my baby girl. She takes after our God, I guess?
As do you, child.
I close my eyes as I fight back tears. I wish I could think my hormones are to blame, but I know it's not.
I still can't believe you chose Ronan for me.
Ye of little faith.
God's tone in my mind is teasing, and this supernatural sound still has me smiling when the cab finally drops me off in front of Ronan's place.
I use the key he's given me to get in, and I jump back in surprise when I find him waiting for me in the living room. "Y-You're still awake."
"I was waiting for you."
"Why?"
He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. "You know why."
The tightness of his tone is just too cute...that I can't help teasing him a little.
"I don't know what to say."
Ronan jerks at my shaken tone. "What do you mean?"
"You lied to me."
He stiffens at this, but it's not enough for me.
"You didn't trust me—"
"No." He starts toward me, his face pale. "Acacia, let me explain—"
"S-Stop."
He becomes absolutely still, his body coiled like a spring. "Acacia—"
"I need to tell you something, too."
"Don't make any rash decisions when—"
"I've changed my mind about the wedding."
"Fuck, Acacia—"
"Now that I know the truth, I'm determined to save even more money by canceling our catering plans. We'll do a pot bless instead—"
"Damn you."
He looks at me as if he doesn't know whether to strangle or kiss me first, and I can totally relate because for so many times, that's how he's made me feel.
"I thought I lost you," he grates out.
A smile wobbles to my lips.
Silly man.
"I couldn't make myself tell you I was pregnant, and you forgave me. That was when I knew. However impossible it may be...your heart is as beautiful as—-"
Oh my.
Is my beautiful fiancé blushing?
I only realize I've whispered these words out loud when he glares at me.
Stupid, stupid hormones.
I try to make my escape even though I know it's futile. Ronan has insane reflexes while pregnancy has me waddling like a duck, and—- aaaah!
He bends me over the back of his couch as soon as he catches me, and then he's pushing my dress up, ripping my panties off—
"You're already wet," he growls, his fingers sliding between my folds.
"R-Ronan—"
His fingers thrust inside of me, and my protests melt into a moan.
Aaaah .
When he asked me to move in with him, I had said yes with one condition. I wanted us to wait until our wedding night, and I didn't know it at that time, but the reason he had said yes so easily was because of this.
Ronan starts squeezing my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples through the thin fabric of my dress, and I cry his name out.
Silly, silly, adorable man!
He honestly thought our period of celibacy is a test of his willpower, but what he was adamant about not giving up was the right to make me come—-
My eyes squeeze shut as his fingers thrust deeper and deeper into me, curling to hit that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids.
—-wherever and whenever he desires, and as many times as he wants.
"You're so tight." Desire makes his voice rough, and I love it. "So wet and perfect for me."
His thumb finds my clit, circling it with devastating precision while his fingers continue their relentless assault on my inner walls. My hips buck against his hand, chasing the pleasure that builds with each stroke.
"Tell me you'll never leave me." His fingers slow, making me whimper. "Tell me."
"N-Never." It's all I can manage, with how every thrust of his fingers is driving me crazy.
"Good girl." He rewards me by speeding up again, adding a third finger that stretches me deliciously. "Because everything I've done—everything I am—belongs to you now. Do you understand?"
I can barely nod, my body trembling on the edge of release.
"Say it," Ronan growls. "Say you understand that I'm yours."
"Mine," I pant, grinding back against his hand. "You're mine."
His free hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back so he can capture my mouth in a searing kiss that steals what little breath I have left. His tongue mimics the thrusting of his fingers, claiming me completely.
Pleasure finally consumes me, my body shuddering at the strength of my orgasm. My knees fold as soon as he pulls his fingers out, and Ronan chuckles as he sweeps me into his arms.
My eyes drift shut as he lays me on the bed. His touch is gentle as he cleans me with a warm cloth, removing all traces of my pleasure before pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. My lips tremble at all the things I want to say.
I can't believe you're mine.
I can't believe you really want to marry me.
I can't believe this is really true.
He pulls me into his arms, his lips brushing the top of my head, and the tenderness of it nearly kills me.
I love you, Ronan.
It's the truth.
But the words remain stuck in my throat.
LIFE IS ALMOST PERFECT these days.
Almost.
In the weeks that follow the shower, I settle into a routine that feels like a dream I never dared to have. Each morning, I wake to Ronan's arms around me, his hands gentle as they trace the curve of my belly. He whispers to our daughter before he leaves for work, tells her to be good to her mama. Some days I help at the bookstore, carefully cataloging new arrivals while Thornton watches me with his hawk-like eyes to ensure I don't overexert myself. Other days I nest, preparing our home for the baby's arrival, arranging and rearranging the nursery until it feels just right.
And almost perfect.
Except for those three words I can't seem to say.
I love you, Ronan. I love you. So, so much.
The words have turned into a burden, but I still can't make myself say it.
All I can do is think of them endlessly...
And tonight is no exception, even when Ronan has brought me as a date to some doctors'-only event in his friend's hospital in Laramie.
"I still think you're showing too much skin," my fiancé grumbles as I hand over my coat and receive a number in return.
"All you can see are my shoulders," I protest.
"Exactly."
Can this man be any more adorable and sillier?
Heads turn as we enter, and the way Ronan commands attention wherever we go is still a thing I'm getting used to. He's always been gorgeous to look at, but Ronan in a tux? In one word: devastating...and it has me turned on so, so bad that I'm already wet under my gown, and I'm just really hoping Ronan won't find out.
Throughout the evening, Ronan is never far from my side. He fetches me drinks (non-alcoholic, of course), makes sure I'm sitting when my feet ache, and glares at anyone who comes too close with a champagne flute that might accidentally spill on my dress.
"You're hovering," I whisper during a lull in the conversation.
"I'm protecting," he whispers back, pressing a kiss to my temple.
When Ronan excuses himself to speak with a former professor, I find myself momentarily alone by the dessert table, my mouth watering at the array of delicate confections. The mini macarons are particularly tempting, their rounded tops adorned with edible pearls in pastel colors that match the decor of our nursery back home.
I'm just reaching for one when I sense someone beside me.
"The raspberry one's better."
I look up to find a young man—boy, really—beside me, his tuxedo slightly too large for his lanky frame. He can't be more than eighteen, with a mop of dark curls and a smile that's all boyish charm.
"Thank you. I shall take your word for it then." I pop the raspberry-flavored macaron into my mouth, and oh my gosh.
My eyes close.
Heaven .
When I open them, the boy is standing closer, his smile widening as he reaches for a macaron himself.
But I can't smile back...because Ronan is standing right behind him.
Hell.
And my fiancé does not look happy.
At all.
"Excuse me," Ronan bites out as he cups my elbow, and he steers me away before the boy can get a word in edgewise.
"Um—" I begin.
"Not one damn word."
"But—"
He glares at me, and I stop speaking and simply follow behind him as he takes us to a side door that leads to a balcony. Once outside, he locks the doors behind us, the soft click somehow more ominous than a slam would have been.
The night air is crisp against my bare shoulders, the distant mountains visible as dark shapes against the starlit sky.
Ronan turns to look at me, and I gulp at the glint in his eyes.
"Do you think I didn't know?" His voice is low, controlled, but with an edge that makes my pulse quicken.
"K-Know what?"
He moves toward me then, each step deliberate, forcing me to retreat until my back meets the cold stone of the balustrade. He places his hands on either side of me, caging me in with his body.
"I could smell your need for me the moment you got wet." His eyes burn into mine. "And so did the boy."
No way.
He must be kidding.
Right?
I look at him in horror, but Ronan's gaze only bores through me, and I think...I think I'm going to die of embarrass—
"R-Ronan?"
I can only stammer his name out when he suddenly drops to his knees before me, the fine fabric of his tuxedo meeting the stone floor. The sight of him kneeling there, still so elegant, so powerful even in this position, sends a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.
"There's only one thing we can do to make sure that doesn't happen again."
By the time I recover from my shock, it's too late. His head has disappeared under my gown, and at the first stroke of his tongue, I fall back against the stone balustrade, my fingers gripping his head through the thick velvet fabric of my gown.
Ronan laps at me lazily at first, as if we have all the time in the world, as if we're not at a formal event with hundreds of people just beyond the door. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider as his tongue delves deeper.
His tongue circles my clit before flicking rapidly against it, sending jolts of electricity up my spine. When he slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot, I have to stuff my fist against my mouth to muffle my moans.
Orgasm comes in a flash, washing over me with blinding intensity. My body convulses, inner walls clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crash through me.
Ronan emerges from beneath my skirt, and he carefully takes his time as he fixes my hair and adjusts my gown. He straightens when he's done, his mouth gently covering mine, and a shudder rocks my body as I taste myself in his kiss.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I want to say it so, so bad.
But I can't.
Because I'm terrified when I do...
Ronan won't say them back.
IT'S MY CHECKUP THE next day, this time with my fiancé and "unofficial" doctor, who has also texted me about being late.
Meeting with the founding members running over. Oliver insists on discussing security protocols for the wedding. Will try to wrap up ASAP. Wait for me.
I can only shake my head. It's just so surreal, knowing that everyone in Hartland is a billionaire.
The desk of Ronan's secretary is empty when I get to his office. Thinking that she's likely out for lunch, I decide to let myself in at his consultation room, only for my steps to come to an awkward halt when I realize someone is already inside.
Oh.
It's like finding myself staring at my doppelg?nger, albeit a slightly older and more cynical version. But most surprisingly of all, she's made herself comfortable in Ronan's chair, and the more I look at her, the more I find it harder to breathe.
The other woman finally looks up, and I see the same surprise in her gaze when she realizes how identical we look.
Her gaze narrows, and her voice is sharp as she asks, "Who are you?"
A memory flutters into my mind, and I remember that one time when Ronan and I were on the bus, and it was as if I had become invisible...because he was seeing someone else.
Pain squeezes my heart, and I hear myself say, "I'm Doctor Slater's patient." It's not a lie, but it's all I suddenly feel I have the right to say...and I don't understand it. Why is my heart suddenly hurting so, so bad?
"Please take a seat," she tells me, and I find myself doing as she says because it's just easier...than to let myself think.
She studies me with a look that's equal parts curiosity and calculation. "His secretary still hasn't come back, has she?"
I shake my head, fighting the rising sense of dread.
"She's been with Ronan since eternity," she says with a curl of her lip. "She should've retired a long time ago, honestly. She can't possibly be a huge help to Ronan at her age."
I feel bad about the way she's talking about Terry, but I feel even worse when I think about how this woman's relationship with Ronan goes far beyond anything I have with him.
Thoughts I should have no business of entertaining start poisoning my mind, and I desperately shove them away. "Are you a relative of Dr. Slater's?" The words come out stilted, and it shames me to hear myself ask this. Ronan doesn't deserve this. I shouldn't be acting like—-
"We were high school sweethearts."
—-he's cheating on me.
"I...s-see."
"Are you alright?" the other woman asks. "You look rather pale all of a sudden."
I want to say 'I'm fine' but I can't.
I feel dizzy and nauseous.
I rise to my feet, but the world only starts to spin faster and faster.
No. No. No.
"I think I need to—"
The words die on my lips as darkness closes in.