Page 77 of Lady and the Hitman

“You live here?” I asked, voice barely audible.

He nodded. “Been here for years.”

“You never mentioned?—”

“I didn’t know how long I’d stay in your life,” he said. “Didn’t want to start with proximity.”

That word. Proximity.

I stared at the house. It couldn’t have been more than a mile from my parents’ place. Maybe less.

“You live next to my childhood,” I whispered.

He looked at me then—soft, serious. “No. I live next to your roots. There’s a difference.”

My chest pulled tight.

And then, as if he could feel the pressure building, he said, “I’ll bring you back here. When you’re ready.”

We didn’t go inside.

Instead, he had the driver take us to my townhouse, quiet and neatly lit, flowers blooming in their pots just like I’d left them.

But when the car pulled up, I saw another surprise.

My mother.

Standing on the steps like she’d sensed something. Like she already knew.

She wore a soft blue sundress and held her phone in one hand, her brow knit with concern as the headlights washed over her. The second the car rolled to a stop, she stepped forward—hands on hips, squinting toward the windshield like she could see through the tinted glass.

I panicked.

“Shit,” I whispered, turning toward Ronan. “She’s not supposed to be here.”

He looked entirely unfazed. “You going to introduce me?”

“No.” I shoved at the door, heart racing. “Stay here.”

“Zara—”

“Please.”

He didn’t argue. Just leaned back and gave a single nod, eyes unreadable.

I climbed out and shut the door behind me with a little too much force.

“Mom,” I said quickly, trying to sound breezy, casual, like I hadn’t just flown home on a private jet after being hunted in a zoo and thoroughly ruined on a towel in Miami. “What are you doing here?”

She arched a brow. “I was about to ask you the same thing. You didn’t call back last night. I thought you might’ve been mugged or murdered.”

“Mom—”

“And then a black SUV pulls up in front of yourplace and you step out looking like someone who’s been on a—” she stopped, narrowed her eyes “—vacation.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. “It was just a quick trip.”

“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms. “With who?”