Page 12 of Yours

Good girl.

It was that a part of me wanted it.

I groaned and dropped onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. This was ridiculous. He was Leena’s older brother. He was dangerous. Ruthless. The kind of man who could order a room cleared with a snap of his fingers, and yet somehow, I was sitting here worrying about what he might think of my sweater.

I stood up again, crossing to the window and pulling the curtain back just enough to peer into the street below. The usual chaos of the city hummed outside—horns blaring, lights flashing, people moving in every direction like scattered ants.

And then my breath froze in the back of my throat.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the dim haze of the streetlamp. It wasn’t flashy—not like some of the ridiculous luxury cars you’d see idling outside nightclubs—but it radiated quiet power. The kind of car that didn’t need to scream money, because itwasmoney.

The driver’s side door opened, and for a moment, all I saw was a pair of polished black boots hitting the pavement. Then he stepped out.

Even from three stories up, Ronan O’Malley looked like he owned the street.

His dark coat swayed slightly as he adjusted the collar, his sharp jawline catching the glow of the streetlight. I dropped the curtain and took a step back, my pulse pounding like a drum.

He was here.

My phone buzzed on my desk, and I glanced at the screen just long enough to read the text.

Come down. Now.

CHAPTER 6

Ronan

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my lips curling into a faint, humorless smile as the city blurred past.

Kiera was going to get what was coming to her.

Tonight.

I should have been irritated. Furious, even. Marco Benedetti wasn’t just some nobody—he was one of those slimy little shitheads who acted untouchable because daddy had money, and picking a fight with him was the kind of rookie mistake no one with half a brain should have made.

But Kiera?

She’d stormed headfirst into it, proud as ever, waving her moral high ground like a red flag in front of a bull. She didn’t know how to back down. Didn’t know when to walk away.

And that was exactly why she was going to end up over my knee with a bright red ass in just a little while.

The thought sent a rush of heat through me, settling low in my gut and making my cock twitch. I didn’t try to push it away.

She deserved it. Christ, shedeservedto be punished until there were pretty little tears dripping down her cheeks. Picking a fight with a Benedetti, dragging Leena into it, and then calling me—me—to clean up her mess?

I exhaled through my nose, my thumb tapping idly against the steering wheel as I turned onto her street. She didn’t even realize what she’d done, calling me like this. Asking for my help. Putting herself squarely in my debt. She thought this was about Benedetti, about her scholarship, about saving her precious future.

She didn’t realize it was about me.

I didn’t do favors. Not for free. I wasn’t going to just bail her out and not take her as good and hard as I pleased.

She could have walked away from that club, kept her mouth shut, let someone else deal with Marco’s wandering hands. But no, she had to be the hero. She had to stick her nose where it didn’t belong, and now she was going to learn what happens when you step out of line.

I was going to enjoy this.

The image of her bare assed over my knee played in my mind, vivid and unshakable. It would start with her standing in front of me, arms crossed, fire in her eyes, trying to argue her way out of what we both knew she deserved. And then the moment when she realized—when it finally sank in—that she was going to be punished. That there was no talking her way out of this.

That there would be no telling me no.

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