AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I find myself at Bloody Strike almost every other day for a couple weeks. I sit with Ronan, chat with Niall, and even Seamus comes around a little bit. He’s quiet and intense and not exactly bright, but he’s funny when he wants to be and likes to laugh at my jokes. We place bets on the fighters together, which he likes.
Not all the Irish warm up to me. I start to notice the divides in Ronan’s organization. Little groups tend to cluster together, and I spot them talking to each other quietly, and sometimes I swear they’re watching me when I get up to use the bathroom.
I think about that morning in Ronan’s office a lot. His hand on my leg. My hand on his arm. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone to kiss me as badly as I wanted it right in that moment, at least until I started thinking about my old family. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to get to know me—but it suddenly made me think about how badly I wish I could be a part of something bigger again and had to get out of there.
Ronan hasn’t touched my leg since. He still calls me love, and he still looks at me for longer than he needs to, but we stick to business most of the time. I get the sense he’s trying not to let the rumors go too wild, and I can’t really blame him. Whatever’s going on in his family, he’s struggling to keep it all together.
One night, after some new information leads to a solid plan, I find myself standing outside between fights with Niall, just getting some fresh air. He excuses himself and I’m alone for a moment, thinking about whether I want to call it a night or head back inside, when one of the Irish I’m not really familiar with approaches.
He’s got a squashed face, strong jaw, and friendly eyes. “Cormac,” he says, introducing himself. “You’re Valentina Santoro.”
I say hello and we make small talk about the fights happening inside and the brawl with the Faithful Servants. Cormac’s not being aggressive or even unfriendly, but I’ve seen him lurking around with a few different groups and I feel my hackles rise as he keeps himself between me and the door. I find myself wishing Ronan would come out and save me.
“Mind if I ask you something?” Cormac leans against the wall of the bar and studies me. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with the boss lately. Are the two of you involved yet?”
“We’re just working together.” I inch sideways and put some space between us. Cormac doesn’t move to block me. “It’s not like that.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but come on. There’s gossip.”
“There’s always gossip. I’m going to head back inside?—”
Cormac moves off the wall. Again, there’s nothing threatening, but the vibe is very off. He faces me and his expression is more serious than it was before. “I just want to make sure that what happened to your family doesn’t happen to mine. That’s all I’m saying.”
I stare at him. Anger bubbles up through my chest followed closely by a wave of nausea and sadness. That’s what they see when they look at me, isn’t it? A girl with a dead father and a ruined family? And they’re not wrong, but what happened wasn’t remotely my fault. Internal pressures forced splinters into the faults in the family’s different factions, and without my father’s personality holding it all together, the whole thing brokeinto pieces. Just like my heart was shattered when Dad was killed.
I can’t say anything. I’m too hurt and upset. Instead, I storm inside, grab my bag, and head out to my car. I don’t see Cormac, and that’s good, because I’m afraid I’ll lash out at him and make this whole situation so much worse.
Ronan catches me as I’m unlocking my door. “Hold on,” he says and touches my wrist. I pull away, surprised by the gesture. “You seemed upset in there. Did something happen?”
I’m tempted to tell him, but I remember the way he reacted with Gregory. I don’t want to be a problem for him. I don’t want his family to suffer because of me. I don’t want Cormac to be right.
“Just tired, that’s all.” I try to smile, and it feels forced.
“Yeah, all right, you’re tired. How about I take you home instead?” Ronan’s clearly not buying it.
“I’m fine. Really.” I move toward him, wanting to put him at ease. I put my hand on his chest, thinking it’ll be a good way to make things seem normal, except the second I touch him, I feel the tension between us suddenly crystallize.
I’ve been trying not to think about this for two weeks now. I almost convinced myself that it was fine, that we didn’t actually have an attraction. And now I’m touching him, and I realize it’s been here all this time, building steam below the surface.
His hands touch my hips. God, I shouldn’t let him do that. If anyone in his family spots us—if they see the way he’s looking at me?—
“Would you tell me, love?” he whispers, moving closer. His lips part. “If someone hurt you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I want you to. I want to take care of you.”
“That’s not your job.”
“Maybe not, but I want it to be.”
“Ronan—” I take a sharp breath. His muscular chest feels so good under my fingers, and I love the way he’s touching me.
“Let me,” he says. Two words. And I’m gone.
He dips his mouth closer. His lips brush my chin, my cheek. I whimper, the most pathetic sounds I’ve ever made in my life, as my desire billows up and overwhelms me, and I move my mouth to meet his.
I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve known he’d kiss me like this.
