Page 24 of Her Fearless Ronin

Jiro looked at me, his gaze haunted by a storm of conflicting emotions. “Hope, I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine,” I repeated, my voice a mere whisper. I fought to keep the hurt from showing in my eyes, to keep the sting of tears at bay. I had known the risks, after all. Jiro was a tortured man haunted by his past. By my sister’s ghost, and I had no right to expect anything more from him.

His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching as he clenched it. “Let me take you home,” he said, his voice strained.

I stood up from my chair and nodded, unable to trust my voice. We walked to his bike in silence, the weight of unspoken words heavy between us. As we rode, the wind whipped through my hair, and I held on tightly, trying to focus on the rush of adrenaline rather than the ache in mychest.

The ride back to my apartment felt like an eternity, each passing second amplifying the emptiness I felt. When we finally arrived, I quickly dismounted the bike, my movements almost frantic. I didn’t want him to see the tears that threatened to spill over.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, happy that my voice sounded clear as I extended the helmet back to him. “I’ll see you on Saturday for the club.”

I turned away from him, fumbling for my keys and practically sprinting up the path to my building.

“Hope,” his voice called after me, tinged with an urgency that only added to the turmoil inside me.

I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t. I unlocked the door and rushed inside, my heartache a heavy weight on my chest.

I ran up the stairs to my apartment, and once I was securely inside, I leaned against the closed door, letting out a shaky breath.

Tears blurred my vision, and I angrily brushed them away. I had known anything between us was impossible, but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. I had opened my heart, letting myself hope for something more, and now I was left with the bitter taste of rejection.

I walked into our sparse living room and slouched onto our ratty couch. I let the tears finally fall, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability in the privacy of my own home. Jiro’s face flashed in my mind, his touch still lingering on my skin, and I pushed away the ache, the disappointment.

I had faced worse challenges in my life, and I wasn’t about to let a moment of heartache define me. With adetermined sigh, I wiped away the tears, stood up, and set my focus on the future. Whatever it held, I would face it with strength and resilience, just as I always had.

Chapter 8

Jiro

Istood outside Doyle’s club, my irritation simmering just beneath the surface as I checked my watch again.

Hope had insisted on taking a taxi, refusing my offer to pick her up. Stubborn, as always. But I couldn’t help the frustration that gnawed at me. It wasridiculous, really, to be annoyed about something so trivial. But it was more than that. It was the constant reminder that I had no right to be here, no right to claim any part of her life. And also a reminder that, despite all that, I hated when she put any kind of distance between us. No matter how justified it was.

And then the taxi pulled up, and my breath caught in my throat. Hope stepped out, a vision of beauty that left me momentarily speechless. Her short black dress clung to her body in all the right places, showing well-toned legs under fishnet tights. Her lavender hair fell in waves around her shoulders. She was undeniably desirable, a fact that hit me like a punch to the gut, especially knowing the lustful looks she would get once we stepped into this den of sex.

She approached with that cool indifference in her eyes, a shield that she seemed to have built against me. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and openness I had seen in her before. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at the distance she was putting between us.

I had taken extra care with my appearance tonight, hoping to erase some of the damage my unwilling rejection caused. My clothes were impeccable, and my hair meticulously styled. But it seemed to be in vain. Her cool gaze skimmed over me as if I were just another stranger.

“Hey,” she greeted, her voice polite but distant. Her eyes met mine, a cautiousness lurking in their depths that I hadn’t seen before. It was as if she had built a protective shield around herself, one I wasn’t sure I could breach.

“Hey,” I replied, my voice rougher than I intended. I wanted to reach out, to pull her close and forget abouteverything else. But the memories of my past mistakes held me back, a reminder that I didn’t deserve her.

I cleared my throat, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters. “How have you been?” I asked. A simple question that held more weight than I could express.

“I’m sorry for being late. The friend who usually takes care of my mother was delayed at work,” she replied, ignoring my question.

Had she been just as miserable as I had?

My attention drifted, and I noticed the way some men were eyeing her. A surge of jealousy shot through me, an irrational possessiveness that clashed with my sense of responsibility. I wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance between us, but I held back. The ghosts of my past whispered in my ear, a constant reminder that I was no good for her, that I could only bring her pain. I had no right to feel this way, not after what I had done.

“Are you alright?” Her voice cut through my thoughts, her eyes searching mine for answers.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied, offering a small smile. “Just lost in thought.”

She seemed to study me for a moment as if trying to decipher the turmoil in my gaze. The questions were there in her eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer them.

She sighed. “Shouldn’t we go in? I’m not comfortable being outside like this.”

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