Not his prisoner or some reluctant partner in an arrangement neither of us wanted. Not even the enemy he was forced to share a bed with.
In the days following the confrontation with Dren, I start to actually step into the role of Ronan Callahan’s wife. No longer simply accepting I am but genuinely feeling it.
I never imagined being the wife of a mobster. Certainly not some Irish gangster with a body full of tattoos and who doesn’t blink twice at violence and bloodshed.
But as Ronan and I move on from the ordeal we’ve survived together, I realize life doesn’t always turn out how you imagined.
My curated little world where I was essentially a princess, spending my days protected from the grim realities around me wasn’t real.
It was a manmade existence designed to keep Daddy’s princess safe and sheltered. Those walls were always going to come crashing down.
It wasn’t a matter of if but when. I just never expected them to be knocked asunder by a man like Ronan.
We’vebledfor each other now. Fought others to the death for each other.
Through that violent turmoil we’ve forged a stronger connection than any vow we exchanged at the altar.
The bruises on my face have faded to faint yellow smudges that disappear even more under a thin layer of makeup. Ronan’s injuries are healing too, though he still moves with a slight stiffness when he thinks I’m not watching.
Seamus is out of the hospital, grumpy and demanding and very much alive despite taking a bullet to the chest. Ronan joked that his father was too stubborn to die.
I’ve concluded he’s right—Seamus Callahan would rather cling to life than ever let himself be taken out by a rival’s bullet.
My father-in-law and I haven’t spoken. There’s still tension and uncertainty that lingers as the family finds its footing. I’m in no rush to pretend everything’s picture perfect.
The way I look at it is that if I’m meant to bond with my in-laws, it’ll happen naturally over time. Not necessarily out of obligation like the arranged marriage first was.
But tonight… Ronan and I are celebrating.
Privately, just the two of us, of course. The Callahans don’t throw victory parties or announce their wins to the world. It’s not their style to be flashy or verbose. Instead Ronan told me to put on something nice, the look in his vivid green eyes making my stomach flutter.
It happens again as I stand in front of the huge mirror in our his-and-her closet, modeling the sleek maroon dress I’m wearing, hair in loose waves around my shoulders, and Ronan comes up from behind.
The way my stomach ripples you’d think a thousand tiny butterflies were trapped inside. My gaze meets his in the reflection, and I pick up on the spark of desire he has when he looks at me.
I’ve always known Ronan was very attracted to me on a physical level.
He made that clear from our very first meeting. But a couple months into our marriage, as we’ve gradually taken to each other, there’s another layer added to his desire.
It’s as if the spark in Ronan’s eye is now a desire that burns deeper than physical.
Life is strange. Love is stranger.
Another realization I’ve come to, even as I’ve resisted using the L word. I’m not sure how much longer I can put it off with the way Ronan’s been making my nerves flutter and my skin flush.
“Ready, princess?” he asks, stopping directly behind me. His hands come to my waist. His lips drop a few kisses on the side of my throat.
I instantly close my eyes at the feel. Then I remember to answer. “Yes… you said to doll myself up.”
“You never need much,” he replies bluntly, squeezing my hip. “You’re naturally a knockout and you know it.”
I take the compliment with a small smile quirking my lips then let him lead me from our room.
Ronan’s decided on a dark blue dress shirt with slacks. The deep shade makes his reddish brown hair stand out more than it usually does.
My husband is still naturally rough around the edges, even in fancier clothes. It’s the very aura he gives off as he helps me slide into my coat and then dons his long black one.
“So where are you taking me?” I ask as we settle in the backseat of the Rolls-Royce we’re riding into Manhattan.