A smirk comes to my face as I reach for a bread roll. “Where are we going?”
“Things for the clan have been calming down and Valentine’s Day’s coming up…” He trails off for a second, buttering his roll and then giving a shrug. “How do you feel about a European adventure? Maybe some stops in Paris. London. Could take you to Ireland, the Callahans’ original stomping grounds.”
“Sounds like my kind of honeymoon. It’s been almost a year since I went shopping on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.”
Ronan lets out a low, wolfish laugh. “I forgot my wife’s a weapons dealer’s daughter who grew up taking weekend trips to Rome and Barcelona.”
“Don’t be jealous. It’s unbecoming.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”
I reach across the table and lace my fingers through his. “It’ll be more special than all the other times I’ve been, though. Because we’ll be together. As husband and wife.”
He cocks a brow, desire heating up his gaze. “I’m thinking a fancy Parisian hotel suite. View of the Eiffel Tower. Big bed.”
“Very,verybig bed,” I agree, leaning in to kiss him.
We eat for a while in comfortable silence, trading bites and affectionate touches, his hand occasionally finding my thigh under the table.
But even as I enjoy our lunch date, my mind keeps drifting back to the gallery. I pause in between bites of the baked chicken Oona prepared and check my phone again.
Still nothing from Chantal.
Ronan notices. “Everything good? You keep looking at your phone like it owes you money.”
I sigh, setting it down on the table. “It’s Chantal. Something feels off.”
“Off how?”
“She and Greg were supposed to be on a couple’s trip to the Maldives this week. But when I was out shopping earlier, we drove by her gallery and the lights were on. So I stopped in to surprise her, but she wasn’t there. Greg was with two of his guys. They were going through her office.”
Ronan’s expression tenses. “Going through her office?”
“He claimed she sent him to grab something for her. Apparently they came back from the trip early. But he just seemed so… cold about it. Now she’s not answering any of my calls or texts.” I meet his eyes, the worry I’ve been trying to suppress finally bubbling to the surface. “Chantal always responds immediately. Always. This isn’t like her.”
“I could send Killian or Sean by her place to check on her. See if everything’s alright.”
“Maybe,” I answer, chewing my bottom lip. “Do you think I’m just being paranoid?”
“Could go either way. I’ll ask one of them to stop by to put it to bed regardless.”
We finish our meal, the conversation drifting back to lighter topics like our honeymoon. The places we’ll visit and sights we’ll see.
Ronan tells me about the village in Ireland where the Callahans come from, a small coastal town that’s more sheep than people.
“It’s nothing luxurious,” he admits, refilling my water glass. “Actually on the poorer side, if I’m being real about it. That’s why my father was so determined to succeed when he came to America. He grew up with nothing and swore his children would have everything.”
“Sounds like my dad. His story is similar,” I say. “Grew up poor. Became determined to make something of himself. Built a weapons empire from the ground up.”
Ronan smirks. “Look at that. More in common than you realized, princess.”
I return his smile. “I guess that means we’re a good match after all.”
“Practically fated,” he rumbles. His gaze has dropped to my lips, making his intentions undeniable.
We’ve migrated closer at some point, our chairs angled toward each other, my legs draped across his lap while his hand traces patterns on my thigh. He leans in to steal another kiss, then another, and I’m starting to wonder if we should take this inside when Oona clears her throat.
“Ahem.”