I roll my eyes as I stuff my hands into my pockets. “I was rounding down.”
“You’re being serious.”
“That shouldn’t come as a surprise,Tine Bhaeg.”
She narrows her eyes at me before uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on her hips, drawing my attention to the fact that she’s wearing the shortest pair of running shorts I’ve ever seen.
Fucking hell, I swear she does this on purpose.
“All right.”
“All right?” My lips twitch.
“I’ll go, but I’m not packing heels unless I know we’re hitting a fancy restaurant or a casino.”
“We’ll be going to both. Just be ready in an hour, otherwise we’ll miss our flight.”
I don’t miss the slight flash of excitement in her eyes before she turns and heads back upstairs, giving me the perfect view of her shapely ass and thighs. This time I don’t stop myself from palming my cock over my pants as I watch her walk away.
Chapter Thirty-Two
CIARA
My stomach fluttersas I toss a bunch of clothes into my carry-on.
Knowing Ronan’s taste, the restaurants we’ll go to will likely require a dress code. Standing in my rather lacking closet, I pull out the fanciest dresses I’ve brought with me, neither of which will likely live up to Ronan’s standards, but they’re all I’ve got. And if he dares to have a problem with it, he’s more than welcome to take me shopping.
A laugh spills from my lips so suddenly that I stagger backward, clutching a pair of heels to my chest as I stare down at my suitcase.
“This isn’t going to fix anything,” I mutter to myself in the hopes of lowering my expectations because this is Ronan we’re talking about.
Two plane tickets and a hotel suite can’t undo the last month of emotional whiplash.
But regardless of that, I still pack because I’m tired of fighting with Ronan and even more tired of fighting myself. I also can’t deny that I want to know what this version of him, this softer, more apologetic version, is up to.
I open up the top drawer of my dresser to start pulling out some underwear when I spy the vibrator he bought me. For a brief second, I consider packing it too, but just as my blood starts to heat at the thought of him using it on me again, I slam the drawer shut.
“God, what the hell am I doing?”
There’s something between Ronan and me, that much is obvious. It lingers beneath every argument, every hungry look that’s passed between us. But wanting something and trusting it are two very different things,especiallywhen that something is Ronan Sullivan.
Not to mention the very inconvenient truth that he killed my father.
What kind of daughter does that make me if I’m excited by the prospect of a weekend away with his killer?
Or more importantly, what kind ofperson?
Clearly, the kind who throws her moral compass out the window in exchange for a couple of first-class tickets and the promise of a few orgasms.
I pack up the last of my toiletries and throw them into the suitcase, all traces of my earlier excitement gone because ultimately, this trip isn’t going to change anything. Even if there’s something growing between us, Ronan is too focused on his empire for us to ever have a real relationship. The kind where I would be prioritized and seen for who I am, rather than what I can do for him.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself because I can’t allow myself to fall for this man.
His hands are stained with blood, yet he thinks nothing of it. The pain he has caused my family is irrelevant to him, just like everything else and everyone who doesn’t aid him in growing his empire.
How could I ever love a man like that?
“Quite easily, unfortunately.”
