Chapter 6 - The Shadows of the PastThe sun was setting over the Chicago skyline, casting long, bruised streaks of purple and gold across the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse office.
I stood by the glass, watching the ant-like crawl of traffic on Michigan Avenue far below, holding a glass of club soda with a twist of lime. The storm had passed, but the adrenaline was still humming through my veins like a live wire.
Heavy footsteps approached behind me. A moment later, Ronan’s arms wrapped around my waist, his broad chest pressing against my back, his chin resting softly on my shoulder.
"You didn't have to give me majority voting shares," I whispered, leaning back into his warmth.
"I didn't give them to you, Lara," Ronan murmured into my hair. "I simply returned them to where they belonged. That trust was funded by your grandfather's medical patents fifty years ago. Finn and his cronies were going to bleed it dry within a year."
I turned around within his embrace, resting my hands against the lapels of his suit jacket, looking up into those dark, intense eyes.
"Why me, Ronan?" I asked, the question finally slipping out after days of running it through my head. "Out of all the women in Chicago, out of all the corporate circles and high-society parties... why did you marry me?"
Ronan didn't hesitate. His hand came up, his warm fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw, sliding down to rest against the heavy emerald ring on my finger.
"Because for twenty years, everyone in my world has looked at me with either fear or calculation," Ronan said, his voice rough and quiet. "They wanted my money, my protection, or my favor. But you... you walked into my son's apartment, saw my bloodline's greatest failure lying in bed with a snake, and you didn't cry. You didn't beg. You broke a jar of sauce, walked out into the cold wind, and three hours later, looked me dead in the eye and told me I was handsome."
A small, genuine laugh escaped my lips. "I was four whiskeys deep."
"Best whiskey of my life," Ronan smiled, leaning down until his lips brushed mine.
It wasn't a cold, strategic kiss born of politics or revenge. It was deep, possessive, and warm, carrying all the quiet fury and fierce devotion of a man who had finally found his equal.
May you like
When we finally broke apart, my breath came a little faster, and the last lingering ghost of Finn Callahan was completely, permanently erased from my soul.
"Come on," Ronan murmured, taking my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. "Let's go home."
