Page 174 of Lady and the Hitman
Always.
Yes.
35
Ididn’t go inside my parents’ house right away.
I sat in the grass until the sun dipped low and the garden lights kicked on, soft glows blooming like fireflies across the property Ronan had brought back to life. My parents’ legacy. My legacy. It wasn’t just alive again—it was radiant.
Because of him.
Because even after I pulled away, even after I said nothing, he still showed up. Quietly. Fiercely.
I took out my phone.
My fingers hovered over his name.
You have my number, he’d said.
And I did.
I typed three different texts before deleting them all.
I didn’t want to send words. I wanted to send myself.
So I stood, brushed the grass from my jeans, walked back to the car, and drove the short distance to the sprawling house on the marsh.
When I arrived, the gate at the end of Ronan’s driveway opened like it had been waiting for me.
I half expected a biometric scan or a code or some faceless guard to stop me, but the wrought iron arms parted without resistance. The gravel drive curled through shadows and Spanish moss, every turn carved from secrecy and strategy. My pulse kept time with the tires.
When I reached the house, the porch lights were on—but the house itself looked like it was sleeping.
I hesitated.
Then I opened my door, stepped out, and walked to the front steps.
Before I could lift my hand to knock, the door opened.
He was there.
Barefoot, in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt that looked like it had seen battle. His hair was damp. His expression unreadable.
“Zara.”
My name in his voice did something to me—rewrote the rhythm in my chest.
I swallowed. “Hi.”
A beat.
Another.
Then he stepped aside and said, “Come in.”
I did.
The house smelled like cedar and stormwater and something darker—something that felt like him. I followed him into the great room, past the fire that hadn’t been lit and the bar that hadn’t been stocked.
