I glance at him as he sifts through them before picking a set.
“Take this one.” He hands me the keys to the black Range Rover.
“Are you giving me a car?” My chin could hit the floor right now.
“I’m giving you temporary permission toborrowa car.”
I scrunch my nose as I glance around the impressive array of options. “Can’t I borrow something a little less…boring?”
Ronan’s dark brows shoot up as he looks down at me. “Excuse me?”
“You know, something that doesn’t screamtrophy wife. A Range Rover is a little on the nose, don’t you think?”
“Take the damn car, Ciara, before I change my mind.”
“If you insist…”
After listeningto Ronan’s long debriefing about how he expects me to drive, I’m running late for my coffee date with Mila.
I park outside the cozy, hole-in-the-wall café with its mismatched chairs and heavenly pastry selection, and Mila is already seated when I walk in, sipping on something green and foamy.
“Please tell me that’s not kale.” I take the seat opposite her and set my purse and keys on the table.
She grins as she sets down her drink. “It’s matcha, it has lots of great antioxidants.”
“Sounds like sadness in a cup.”
Mila shakes her head as she tucks her dark hair behind her ears. To prove a point, when the waitress appears, I order a chocolate croissant and a chai latte.
“So…” Mila starts once we’re alone again. “How’s married life?”
“Like being held hostage in a five-star hotel.”
She chuckles as she picks up her drink and takes another sip.
“No, seriously. It’s weird. The house is gorgeous, and the kitchen looks like something out of Architectural Digest, but everything feels so…sterile. I’m terrified to do much more than make coffee.”
“It’s barely been a week since you moved in. Give it time.”
The waitress serves my drink and food, and I eagerly take a bite of the croissant, swallowing a moan at the buttery taste.
“I asked Ronan if I could work for him.” I wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “He refused at first, but this morning, he said we could try it out. He’s giving me something small to begin with, but it’s a start.”
Mila raises an eyebrow. “A start to what? Being the perfect mafia wife? Or uncovering the Sullivans’ dirty secrets?”
I smirk as I sip on my drink. “The latter.”
Mila sighs as she leans back in her seat. “Ciara…”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“Then maybelistenthis time.”
“Ronan is dangerous and arrogant, which is not a good mix. He thinks he’s invincible, and I want to prove him wrong.”
“Or you’re going to get yourself killed trying.” All amusement is gone from her face.
A chill runs through me, but I shrug it off. “He’s not going to kill me. I’m his wife.”
