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“I was just coming to get you,” Celia says, and I bite my teeth together hard to stop myself from saying something I might later regret.
Ronan doesn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he watches me with rapt attention, trying to figure out what is wrong.
“Yes, your employee thinks she is welcome to come up here and roam around,” I snipe. Damn, I really should have kept my mouth shut.
Ronan exits his room, and as he pulls his door shut, it beeps loudly. Yep, stupid me—the bitch can’t get into their rooms.
“You have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” Celia simpers. “You can’t be late.”
Ronan continues to ignore her. He stalks toward me, and I hold my ground. They want me here—they want to claim me. Well, apparently, I’m a jealous bitch and he can deal with it. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me; instead, he places his hand on my chest and pushes me back against the wall, leaning in close to my ear.
“Are you wearing this to kill me, Angel? Because I have an important meeting in fifteen minutes and my dick is solid as a rock.”
“Why don’t you get her to help you with that?” I spit out bitterly.
He chuckles in my ear. “We both know that won’t ever happen. Jealousy looks good on you, though.”
“Meeting,” Celia says, breaking whatever voodoo this outfit has on Ronan. He straightens up and turns his attention to her, and Darragh smirks.
“I don’t give a fuck if the King of England is on the phone—do not come up here. You have a phone, use it. When you come to the house, you stay downstairs in the waiting room until I get there. You have never been allowed to come and go as you please, and if you step out of line again, I will replace you.”
Celia swallows hard and nods.
“As fun as this has been, we have to head down to the gym,” Darragh interrupts, pushing off the wall.
I go to move around Ronan, but he grabs my arm just above the elbow and pulls me into his body. His lips find mine and his large, tattooed hands cup my face. He kisses me like a starving man and my knees buckle. I instantly regret not wearing underwear, as the way his lips dominate mine has me squeezing my legs tight. If this man asked me to drop to my knees right now I would.
Ronan pulls back, leaving me in a daze as he steps aside and winks at me—he knows what he just did, the asshole. Darragh shakes his head as Ronan walks downstairs.
Once I’ve composed myself, I follow Darragh down to the home gym.
“You need to stretch,” he says. “Just copy what I do. Today, we will start you on the treadmill.”
“Why running? The only time you will catch me doing it is if I’m being chased, and even then, I might prefer to let them kill me.”
“You seem like running is your favorite thing to do, so that is where we will start. Both of us.”
I mumble under my breath about him being an asshole, and he ignores me, showing me how to stretch. After he is done, he gets me onto the dreaded treadmill and presses some buttons. The mat beneath my feet moves slowly, and I start at a walking pace. He gets onto the one beside me, but he starts out faster. By the time he is at a steady run, I’m barely jogging, but I don’t complain. I thought he was going to teach me some self-defense moves today, but instead he has me jogging.
After what feels like a hundred years, Darragh leans over and presses something on my treadmill, and the pace slows until I’ve come to a complete stop. He barely looks like he has worked up a sweat, whereas I realize my sports bra is covered in sweat and the peach color is now fucking see through. Darragh smirks at me.
“Stop looking at my tits.”
“It’s nothing I didn’t see this morning.”
He steps off his treadmill, gets a towel from a pile, and throws it at me before grabbing his own.
“I thought you were teaching me self-defense?”
“I will, but first we will work on your stamina. The second someone my size tries to take you down, you have no hope. Mornings are for gym, then I will add self-defense before dinner. I want the girls to learn as well.”
“You mean to tell me you dragged me out of bed to fucking run with you because you thought my stamina was poor? Are you fucking crazy? I was a whore—I fucked all night. My stamina is fine.”
“Harper, I stopped calling you a whore a few days ago, though I haven’t forgotten,” he says, and I roll my eyes. He steps closer. “I also haven’t forgotten that Ronan had me tied to a fucking chair and held a gun to my fucking head because of you. I’m trying to be a good friend to Cian by not killing his bitch. Him almost dying put shit into perspective for me. If they have any say in it, you’re not going anywhere, and I have to get used to it, plus the girls like you, much to my disgust.”
I smile. He might have intimidated me once, but no longer. I know Ronan calls the shots and he won’t let Darragh kill me. “Aww, Pooky Bear,” I say, finding the worst nickname I can at short notice. “I think there might have been a compliment in there somewhere.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps.
