Page 77 of Illusive
Her throat worked on a hard swallow, and her eyes took on a luminous sheen. “I wish I were as amazing as you seem to think I am.”
“Give me time, I’ll make you believe it. Until then, your instincts will tell you if I’m a threat or the man you need. Just keep listening to your intuition. Trust it.”
She looked down at Blizzard thoughtfully for a moment, her hand petting his glorious white fur in long strokes, then she glanced back at Ronan. “Do you think I need you?”
“Only you can decide that,cher. What I know is that I’ll never be threatened by your success and will do what I can to help you achieve it. I feel nothing but pride when I’m made invisible beside your beauty. I will never leave you wanting. And I need nothing from you but your time and attention, and the pleasure of your body.”
Ireland briefly caught her lower lip between her teeth. When she finally spoke, her voice was husky. “Promise me you’ll be careful when you talk to the police. Make sure Jules is with you. Don’t cooperate or say anything if you’re alone.”
“I’m more aware than most that there are miscarriages of justice. I won’t be careless.” He was so eager to see her in person that he knew waiting until the end of the day would be a hard-fought battle. “Still so protective of me, tigress. I’ve never been more flattered.”
“I want you to come over as soon as you can. Bring your luggage. Or not. I like you best naked.”
“I’ll make dinner. With my clothes on.” He gave her a wry look. “And keep them on until you’ve fully recovered.”
Blizzard turned his head and looked directly at the phone, his low purrs picking up volume.
“He’s missing you,” Ireland said. “He gave me the stink eye when I got home, like I made you leave or something.”
Ronan smiled. “I’m certain he’s missed you nearly as much as I have.”
“It’s awfully neat around here.” She looked around. “And it looks like a florist moved in. Did you buy every bouquet in Manhattan?”
“Mais non.” He feigned being affronted by the question. He’d filled her apartment with floral arrangements and potted plants before leaving, wanting her to come home to some color, cheer, and fragrance. “Only the freshest, biggest, and most expensive ones.”
Her laugh was music for his soul.
Ireland tucked her dark hair behind her unbandaged ear. “Just so you’re aware, I asked Gideon to come over, but I don’t know when that will be. I’m going to talk to him about the direction the detectives are taking. If they’re wasting time looking at you and your family, they’re not looking for the one who’s still at large.”
Ronan went still. “I thought all of the kidnappers were dead? Is that not the case?”
“No.” She caught her lower lip briefly between her teeth. “There’s at least one more. But I’m thinking if it was a trafficking ring, there could be a lot more out there.”
“Merde,” he breathed, his pulse racing with a sudden burst of disquiet. “You don’t have any plans to leave your apartment, do you?”
He had no idea what Cross might be doing to increase security at the building where he and Ireland lived, but Ronan had already contacted the security firm responsible for Vidal Records and added a second layer of armed guards to their existing security personnel. If Cross hadn’t already arranged a private detail for her, Ronan would, and he would find a way to make her amenable if she balked. It was nonnegotiable.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ireland assured him. “I just want to lie on the couch with you and Blizzard, watch some stupid action movie with tons of plot holes, and not think about anything.”
He worked to inject some lightness into his tone. “Sounds delightful. I’ll bring the sparkling apple juice.”
They both heard the knock at her front door. She froze, staring at him with unfocused eyes, her face losing color so quickly that Ronan found himself half-rising from his chair.
“Who is it?” he demanded, hating that he was too far away to be there quickly enough.
“I don’t know. The doorman didn’t call me.”
Standing, Ronan pulled the receiver off his desk phone and stood ready to dial 911. “Is your door locked?”
“Yes,” she said shakily, standing slowly so that his view was of her velour-clad legs. “I’m going to look through the peephole.”
“Non!” he barked. “Stay away from the door. Go to the kitchen and ask who it is. Take your phone with you.”
Ireland grabbed the device, and for a moment, all he saw was a blur of white as she carried it.
“W-who is it?” she called out, her voice trembling.
The answer was too muffled for Ronan to hear, but then she lifted the phone to reveal her face. Her relief was obvious, although she still looked scared and unwell. “It’s my dad.”
