Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I shake my head and trace the lines on his face again. “He just needed some time,” I whisper. “That’s all.”
The tires crunch over gravel, and when I glance out the window again, we’re in front of a house. A house in the middle of nowhere.
Rory turns off the engine, and a moment later he’s got the back door open. A man walks out of the house and Rory gestures for him to come over.
“Franco,” Rory greets him. “He needs help.”
Franco glances at Ronan and his lips flatten. He speaks in Russian, and I can’t understand what he’s saying, but his expression says it all. He doesn’t like Ronan.
Another man comes out to join us, and Franco clips out a few words of explanation in their native tongue. The third man glances at Ronan and lifts a brow. I don’t know who he is, but somehow I know he’s the one in charge. And whatever their beef with Ronan, I don’t care. I’m prepared to do whatever it takes.
“Please,” I beg. “You have to help him.”
The man’s eyes examine me, blue as the sky and gloomier than anything I’ve ever seen. He takes in my expression and my hand clutching at Ronan’s shirt, and something shifts in his features. He gives Franco a small nod, and then they’re carrying him inside, with me and Scarlett in tow.
“You’re going to help him, right?” I ask.
The man with the blue eyes nods. “I will do what I can.”
Chapter Forty
Sasha
I don’t know who this man is. The one with the blue eyes. But Rory calls him Alexei, and I’m certain he’s one of the big fish in the Russian mob. He has to be.
His house is the size of a small castle, and it looks like one too. But it isn’t overly luxurious. In fact, it’s a little cold, and it reminds me of Ronan’s house in that way. Stark. Used for function, but not a home.
He leads us through a maze of halls and directs the men to leave Ronan on the bed. His man Franco is on the phone, and I’m staring at him impatiently, wondering what he’s going to do. He seems to understand this, because when he hangs up, he tells me what I need to hear.
“The doctor will be here shortly. In the meantime, I will tend to the wound. You can wait downstairs where Magda will tend to yours.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I argue. “He doesn’t like people touching him. He needs me here. He won’t understand if I’m not here…”
“Sasha.” Rory gives my arm a squeeze as he dips his head to meet my gaze. “I will stay here with Ronan. He’s not going to wake up right now, because he’s lost too much blood. Alexei and Franco know what they’re doing, okay. But we need to respect their wishes so that Ronan gets the best treatment. They can’t do that if you’re here.”
My lip trembles and I want to keep arguing. My eyes move to Ronan on the bed, his face soft and relaxed and too pale. The longer I stand here and argue, the longer it’s going to take for them to help him. Logically, I know this. But I still don’t want to leave him.
I glance at the man with the blue eyes, who is watching me quietly. The one who I know is in charge.
“Promise me you’ll take care of him,” I demand. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to help him.”
His head dips and he gives me a small nod. “You have my word.”
My eyes dart back to Ronan once more and then Rory is easing me out the door, directing me to go downstairs. He tells me the housekeeper will help with my cuts, which are the last thing on my mind. I’m barely holding myself together as I stare at the maze of hallways and the door shuts behind me. Locking me out. Keeping me in a void of questions with no answers.
This is the way of the mafia world. They see women as weak. As not being able to handle these types of situations. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t want to see. But it’s Ronan. My Ronan.
My troubled, strong, proud man. The man I love beyond all reason. Beyond all limits. It almost knocks me off balance thinking how much I love him in this moment. Tears are tracking down my face as I stumble down the hallway, looking for the way that I came. Maybe I could just wait on the stairs. That way, if he does wake up, I will hear him.
But before I even make it that far, I catch someone peeking at me through another door before she slams it shut. I pause and stand there in confusion. It can’t be the housekeeper, because they said she’s downstairs. I’m not in the mood to care, but there was something about her face that looked familiar.