Chapter 1 - The Dangerous AnswerThe amber liquid in my glass seemed to tilt toward him as Ronan Callahan stood there, blocking out the rest of the Clover & Ash bar like a human eclipse. His dark gaze was fixed on me with a terrifying intensity, unbothered by the audacity of my drunken compliment.
“What happened?” he asked again, his low baritone vibrating through the floorboards beneath my heels.
Behind him, his driver and bodyguard, a hulking wall of a man named Thomas, shifted slightly, his hand hovering near his jacket. Jade had frozen halfway to her glass, her eyes darting between Ronan and me as if calculating whether she needed to call an ambulance, a lawyer, or a priest.
I swallowed hard, the Irish whiskey burning a second trail down my throat. The numbness from finding Finn in bed with Meredith Shaw was beginning to wear off, replaced by a reckless, unfiltered adrenaline. Why should I lie? Why should I protect Finn’s pride when he had spent two years treating mine like a doormat?
“Your son,” I said, lifting my chin just a fraction higher, “has an unfortunate habit of sharing his apartment. And his bed. With women old enough to be his mother, or at least his business partners.”
Ronan didn't blink. A muscle ticked along his sharply chiseled jawline. “Meredith Shaw?”
“Oh, you know her?” I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Of course you do. She works for Callahan Development. She wears silk like it grows on her skin. Apparently, she shares more with your family than just corporate strategy.”
The silence that fell between us was heavy enough to crush glass. In Chicago’s upper crust, people didn't talk about infidelity openly—they swept it under expensive imported rugs and smiled for the cameras. But Ronan Callahan wasn't a normal corporate titan, and he didn't care about polite society rules.
He took half a step closer, his cedarwood and smoke cologne wrapping around me completely. “You were supposed to be at home tonight, Lara. Finn told me you were planning a quiet dinner at your place. He said you were working on your baking.”
“He lied,” I said, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “I was at his apartment. With a jar of homemade vodka sauce. Which is currently shattered all over his expensive marble floor. You should tell him to hire a better cleaning crew. The glass gets everywhere.”
For a fleeting second, something dark, fierce, and utterly predatory flashed across Ronan’s dark eyes. It wasn't pity. It was rage—cold, suppressed, and lethal. Not at me, but at his son.
“Thomas,” Ronan said without looking back.
“Boss?” Thomas murmured.
“Get the car. We’re going for a ride.”
Jade grabbed my arm, her fingers biting into my skin with urgent panic. “Lara, no. Do not get into a car with him. This is family business, you don't want to step into the crossfire.”
I looked down at Jade, then back up at Ronan, whose steady, commanding gaze offered something Finn had never given me in two years: absolute certainty.
“I’m tired of being collateral damage, Jade,” I said softly. I turned back to Ronan, my eyes locking onto his. “If you’re offering a ride, Mr. Callahan, I accept. But I’m not going back to Lincoln Park to cry. If I’m going to watch my life burn down, I want front-row seats.”
May you like
Ronan held my gaze for three heartbeats, then a slow, dangerous smile curved the corner of his mouth—a smile that promised total destruction for anyone who had wronged us.
“Then step outside, Lara,” he said, extending a gloved hand toward the door. “Let’s go see what my son has broken.”
