He was a good and loving man who made no secret of the fact I was his world. He showed me what it was like to feel loved, and he made me promise I’d never settle for less than that.
Ronan Sullivan, on the other hand, is none of those things.
He’s cruel and cold and confusing.
One minute, he’s kissing me like I’m the only thing keeping air in his lungs, and the next, he’s storming out of a restaurant and abandoning me like I’m a piece of trash on the sidewalk.
“That’s not enough,” I whisper to myself as I wipe the tears from my cheeks.
He might know how to manipulate my body, but I won’t let him manipulate my heart any longer.
I can’t stay in this city for another second. Not when the suite is tainted with the memory of him pressing up against me as he brings me pleasure.
I swallow the bile in my throat and straighten, pushing my hair out of my face and wiping at my eyes before continuing on until I reach the hotel.
Once I get back to the room, I throw my suitcase open and start shoving my things inside without bothering to fold them. I change out of the dress I picked out specially for tonight because I knew it brought out the color of my eyes and throw on a fresh pair of leggings and a sweater, all while trying to ignore the sight of Ronan’s carry-on that lies open on the bed.
He has to come back to the room at some point, but I refuse to be here when he does.
Once I’m packed and ready to leave, I open up the travel app on my phone and start searching for a flight back to New York.
“Wonderful…” The next flight out of Vegas isn’t for another four hours, and the only seat left is in first class, but I don’t care. I clickbook,using the emergency credit card that Ronan loaded onto my phone, before someone else snatches it up.
It feels like a betrayal to use his money, but I need to get the hell out of here, and I don’t have time to weigh the moral implications of my decision right now.
The moment the flight confirmation appears in my inbox, I take the elevator to the foyer and ask the concierge to get me a cab.
As I’m waiting for my ride, I open up my messages and send Mila a quick text. It’s past midnight back in New York, but she always keeps her phone on in case of emergencies.
And this definitely constitutes an emergency.
Me
Are you awake?
She replies within seconds.
Mila
This better not be a booty call…
Me
I need you to pick me up from JFK
My phone instantly rings, and my throat grows thick with tears as I answer the call and press the phone to my ear.
“Ciara? What’s going on?”
“I need a ride from the airport.” I try to keep my voice steady.
“Wait, what? Are you okay? What happened?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat as I look around the grand foyer of the hotel where I was meant to spend a romantic weekend with my husband.
But once again, I’m left broken and alone.
“I don’t know.”
