Page 101 of Illusive
She faced him, and he restrained himself from wincing at her healing injuries.
“I’m not pushing. I feel fine. A little banged up, yeah. But I’ve gotten bruised pretty good in the studio, too.”
“There’s a difference between getting injured while practicing self-defense and being assaulted by a kidnapper,non?And physical condition aside, you’ve been through a very traumatic experience, and that needs tending to as well.”
Her arms crossed. “I think I’m handling things pretty well. Maybe I’m even stronger than you think.”
“Of course you are. But even diamonds fracture, Ireland.”
“You think this broke me in some way?”
“Non. Merde, you’re stubborn.” Straightening, Ronan walked toward her. “I would just like you to give yourself some grace and care. No one deserves your attention right now more than you.”
“You take care of me. Can you help me put my hair up?” She twisted the long strands around her hand.
“Ireland, it’s far too risky in too many ways. Can’t you see that?”
She looked at him with those remarkable eyes and exhaled in a rush. “So, I escaped that fucking crate they locked me in, but I’m still a prisoner? We don’t even know why I was taken, Ronan, or whether I’m even still in danger. You said you’ve doubled security at Vidal, and they’re now armed. Won’t I be at least as safe there as I am here?”
He cupped her face in his hands. “If I work from home, will that keep you here?”
“And leave Christopher to manage things with Jules and Claudette?” she asked drily. “How do you think that’s going to go, and with all the staff already on edge from losing my dad?”
“Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay home?” He groaned inwardly at the look she gave him. “One hour,” he conceded reluctantly. “And then I’m bringing you back here.”
“Deal.”
Ireland’s thoughts swirled with excitement as she walked with Ronan up the garage ramp toward the street above. Jules waited for them on the sidewalk, dressed in an emerald suit with a lustrous sheen. He cut a dashing figure, and the smile he flashed her displayed his copious charm.
“Hello, Lizzie,” he called out, his hands on his hips. His smile taunted her, but as she got closer, she saw it slowly fade into a frown.
The reminder that her bruised face told some of the worst of her story dampened her mood. She’d briefly considered trying to cover them up but hadn’t had time after Ronan had reapplied arnica to them.
As she and Ronan stepped out into the sunlight, she was startled to feel the first niggle of anxiety. Glancing up and down both sides of the street, she saw a media satellite van parked on Fifth Avenue, and her steps faltered.
Gripping her arm, Ronan propelled her gently but inexorably forward. “Don’t stop until you get in the limo,” he told her quietly.
Her pulse quickened as he urged her toward the open door. The sunlight was too bright, almost surreal, and the warmth on her skin felt foreign. She’d left the hospital under an awning, surrounded by hospital staff, her mother, and Alina. To be fully exposed outside, even with Ronan hovering so closely, was disquieting in a way she hadn’t anticipated.
Holding her hand, Ronan helped her inside the long car. She sat quickly and slid over, the bruise on her thigh making its presence felt. She offered a smile to Claudette.
Ronan’s sister looked at her with obvious concern. “Are you certain you should be going out? It seems too soon.”
Ireland was briefly worried that she’d perhaps made the wrong decision, but then Ronan was sitting beside her, his arm coming around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, absorbing his warmth.
“I’m just going to stop in really quick,” she said. “I just worry that our employees might need to feel some stability from our family, and I’m not sure Christopher is able yet to work constructively with you and your brothers.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” Claudette murmured, as Jules climbed in and took a seat beside her. “You’re a very strong woman. I doubt I could manage all this as well as you are.”
The limo pulled away from the curb, and as it turned onto Fifth Avenue, Ireland caught a glimpse of the front of the building. Her stomach tightened at the sight of the A-frame traffic barricades keeping the entrance clear of the cluster of people on the sidewalk.
“Jesus,” she breathed, her heart skipping a beat before quickening. When she faced forward again, Ronan pressed his lips to her temple.
None of them spoke on the ride to Vidal. Claudette and Jules focused on their phones. Ronan stayed focused on her. She stared out at the city she knew and loved so well, but realized she felt disconnected from it, as if the limo’s windows were a screen showing a B-roll of Midtown. When a black Suburban pulled up beside them, she looked at the tinted windows and wondered what was happening inside the vehicle that she couldn’t see. It was a terrifying train of thought. Would she now always look at something so ordinary and have such questions?
Ronan rubbed her shoulder soothingly, and his lips moved to her ear. “How are you doing?”
She just shrugged, at a loss for words because she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just too much inside her head, primed by Ronan’s concerns and questions. If she’d simply walked outside on her own, would she be overthinking so much?
