Page 58 of Yours

Ronan’s gaze lingered on me as I ate, and while I tried to focus on my food, it was impossible to ignore him.

There was something about the way he looked at me that made me squirm. Not in a bad way, though. It was unnerving because I didn’t know what he was thinking, what he was planning, and most of all, because Ilikedit.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

“About all the things I’ve done to you, and all the things I have yet to do to you,” he murmured.

I blushed hard and looked down, staring down at my still-full plate of food.

“Finish your breakfast. We’ve got things to discuss,” he dictated.

I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. “Things?”

Ronan’s expression shifted, the teasing glint fading, replaced by something more serious.

“About Marco. And about what happens next.”

CHAPTER 20

Ronan

A short while later, the soft hum of my phone vibrating against the kitchen counter broke through the quiet of the morning. I glanced down at the screen.

Seamus.

“Give me a minute,” I said to Kiera, already stepping away as I answered the call. “Seamus?”

“Turn on the damn television, boss,” he said without preamble, his voice taut. “Channel six. Now.”

“Why?” I asked, though I was already walking toward the living room.

“Just turn it on,” Seamus snapped before the line went dead.

I slid my phone into my pocket and grabbed the remote from the coffee table, glancing over my shoulder at Kiera. She sat at the kitchen island, her half-finished plate of eggs forgotten as she frowned at me.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her tone wary.

“Not sure yet.” I turned on the TV, the screen flaring to life and filling the room with the voice of a news anchor.

The words hit me like a hammer.

“We’re following breaking news this morning of a devastating gas explosion that occurred at the private residence of prominent businessman Lorenzo Benedetti, known to many as the head of the Benedetti family here in New York. The explosion took place just after 7:00 a.m., and early reports confirm significant structural damage to the home.”

The screen cut to a live feed of the scene—a sprawling mansion now reduced to rubble, smoke curling into the pale morning sky. Firefighters moved through the wreckage, hoses blasting streams of water to extinguish lingering flames, while police barricades kept onlookers at bay. Sirens wailed in the background, creating a chaotic and terrifying scene.

“Authorities are still working to determine the exact cause of the explosion,”the anchor continued, their voice measured and professional,“though sources on-site suggest it may have been related to a gas leak. However, officials have not ruled out foul play given the residence’s connection to the city’s organized crime network.”

The camera zoomed in on the destruction: twisted beams, shattered windows, and a smoking crater where the front entrance once stood.

“We have just received confirmation that Lorenzo Benedetti, the head of the Benedetti family, has been found dead in the wreckage. Emergency responders discovered his body in what appears to have been his private study, one of the most heavily damaged areas of the home.”

“Jesus,” Kiera whispered, her voice barely audible.

I turned off the television with a click, the silence that followed ringing in my ears. I tossed the remote onto the coffee table and sank into the chair across from her.

“What was that about?” Kiera asked, her brows knit together. Suspicion flickered across her face as her gaze locked on mine. “Did you… know about this?”

I didn’t answer right away, keeping my expression carefully neutral. Truthfully, the explosion had caught me off guard as much as anyone else, but the possibilities were already swirling in my head—none of them good.

---