Page 129 of Lady and the Hitman

His gaze softened a fraction. “Good.”

Silence stretched. It should’ve been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It was thick. Weighted. It meant something.

Dessert came—a small, delicate chocolate creation that I didn’t even try to taste. Ronan dipped his spoon into it, then offered me a bite. I opened my mouth without thinking, lips closing over the metal.

His eyes tracked the motion. His jaw flexed.

“Back at the bar,” I said, swallowing. “You said I don’t know what you’d do for me.”

“I did.”

“I think I’m starting to understand.”

He nodded slowly, as if agreeing with something unspoken.

“What if it’s too much?” I asked.

“It won’t be.”

“You’re so sure.”

His voice dropped again, a thread of dark silk. “Because I’ve already decided.”

“Decided what?”

“To keep you.”

My breath caught.

He meant it. Every word.

He would tear the city down if I asked. Rewrite the rules. Eliminate threats. Protect me with a ferocity I still didn’t understand.

“You’re not used to someone choosing you,” he said quietly. “But I did. And I knew this moment would come.”

“What moment?”

“When you stopped pretending you didn’t want to be mine.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t want to.

Not if this was what drowning in him felt like.

He stood, threw down a thick black card the waiter had clearly seen before, and held out his hand.

I took it.

No hesitation.

We walked out together, into the warm Charleston night. Heads turned. Eyes followed.

24

The Charleston night was alive with whispers of jasmine and salt, but all I could feel was Ronan’s hand in mine, steady as a pulse, leading me away from the restaurant and into the unknown.

My heart hadn’t stopped racing since I’d taken his hand at The Tasting Room, since I’d admitted I was his, since I’d felt the weight of the flash drive in my bag—a small, cold truth I wasn’t ready to face.