Page 56 of Lady and the Hitman
“Where are we going?” I asked.
He glanced over, smirk tugging at his lips. “Somewhere I can keep my promise.”
I swallowed. “Will we sleep?”
“No,” he said simply. “There are better things to do.”
I exhaled a shaky breath.
“What if I need rest?”
“You can sleep when you’re back at your townhouse in Charleston.”
My body tightened at that.
Because we both knew I wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.
Not with the way he was looking at me.
Not with what he was about to do.
The SUV glided through Miami’s streets like it owned the road. Like it didn’t answer to red lights or traffic patterns or the rules that governed lesser men. The city was quiet now, softer in the hours just before dawn, but the air still buzzed—thick with humidity and heat and the weight of everything that hadn’t happened yet.
The car pulled up to a luxury oceanfront high-rise hotel in Miami Beach, fronted by sleek marble and a discreet awning. A valet opened the door without question.
I stepped out, and immediately felt the sting.
Eyes on me.
From the doorman. The concierge behind the desk. The man waiting in line with a garment bag draped over one shoulder. Their stares flicked from my bare back to the slit climbing high up my thigh to the silk clinging to my breasts—and I knew exactly what they thought.
Whore.
Escort.
Paid.
Or worse.
My cheeks flushed before I could stop them, shame crawling up my throat. I suddenly felt every inch of bare skin, every brush of fabric, every tremor still lingering in my muscles from the night we’d just lived.
And then I felt Ronan’s hand at the small of my back.
Steady. Grounding. Possessive.
He leaned in, voice low and absolute. “Don’t shrink. You were made to be looked at.”
The words hit something deep. Knocked the breath out of my shame and turned it into something else entirely.
Pride. Power. Desire.
He led me past the front desk without hesitation. No reservation check. No ID. The man behind the counter didn’t blink—just handed over a black keycard and dipped his head like Ronan was royalty.
Maybe he was.
The elevator doors closed behind us, and I finally exhaled.
“Do they know you?” I asked.
