LARISSA (4)

"I don't think 'bullying' is the problem, Mother," Ronan’s voice broke in, a low, smooth drawl that made Rissa’s entire body stiffen.

She looked up, and for a split second, she caught his eye. He was smirking, a dark, knowing glint in his expression as his eyes dropped pointedly to the high collar of her blouse.

"Maybe she's just a little... overwhelmed," Ronan continued, his voice dropping to that gravelly octave from the night before. "Isn't that right, La… oh, Rissa? It was a very long night for everyone."

Rissa’s fork clattered against her porcelain plate. She tried to keep her hands steady, but the way Ronan said long night made her skin crawl with a mix of terror and a heat she refused to acknowledge.

"I’m just tired," Rissa stammered, focusing intently on a piece of melon. "The house was... loud last night from.. the wind."

"The wind?" Ronan echoed, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. He stood up, his tall, broad frame casting a shadow over the table as he circled toward her. "Funny. I thought I heard something more like a... wounded bird or maybe someone just struggling with their breath."

Finn finally looked up from his tablet, his brow furrowing in minor annoyance. "Ronan, can you please sit down. You’re being too eccentric." Finn rolled his eyes.

But Ronan didn't as expected, he stopped right behind Rissa’s chair. She could smell him that same scent of dark musk that had been all over the sheets last night. Her heart hammered so hard she was sure Lady Eleanor could see it jumping under her ribs.

"Your collar is crooked, sister-in-law," Ronan murmured.

Before she could flinch away, his large, calloused hand reached down. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin she had spent an hour scrubbing.

Rissa let out a sharp, tiny gasp, her entire body locking up. To the rest of the table, it looked like he was just adjusting the pussy bow, but Rissa felt his thumb deliberately drag across the center of the bruise he’d left.

The pain was a sharp reminder of his teeth, and the heat of his skin made her dizzy.

"Ronan! Honestly," Lady Eleanor laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Stop teasing your younger brother's wife. You’ve always been such a provocateur. Leave the poor girl alone; she looks like she’s seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost, Mother," Ronan said, his eyes locking onto Rissa’s in the reflection of a silver teapot on the table. He leaned down, his lips inches from her ear, his voice a low vibration only she could hear. "A man, a very real man."

He gave the bow one final, possessive tug, tightening it making it hard for her to swallow.

"There," he said aloud, straightening up with a feral grin. "All tucked away, I wouldn't want anything... unsightly to slip out in front of Finn, would we? He’s so busy, he might miss the details."

Finn sighed, tapping his tablet screen. "If you're finished playing stylist, Ronan, we have the merger meeting at ten. Try to look like a professional and senior for once."

Rissa felt like she was suffocating. "I think I need some air," Rissa whispered, pushing her chair back.

"Eat, darling. You’re thin as a rail," Eleanor insisted, physically pushing a plate of smoked salmon toward Rissa. "You’ll need your strength if you and Finn are ever going to give me grandchildren." She winked.

Rissa felt a wave of nausea at the mention of children, especially with Ronan’s heavy gaze still weighing on her. She forced herself to swallow a few bites, the food tasting like ash.

She fussed over Finn’s coffee, making sure it was exactly how he liked it, trying to look anywhere but at the man sitting across from her.

Finn checked his watch and stood up. "I have to go, don’t wait up for dinner; the merger is going to be a long one." He placed a kiss on her forehead.

Rissa caught his arm as he tried to leave. With a little voice, she whispered. "Finn... please, be careful."

He patted her hand, "Don't worry, Love, i’m not doing anything risky or bad." He chuckled leaving the room.

As soon as Finn left, Ronan did and Eleanor cleared out too. Rissa felt the walls closing in. She needed to confront Ronan, she couldn't live with this ticking time bomb hanging over her head. She waited ten minutes, then slipped out the side door, heading toward the secluded garden that bordered the east wing - Ronan’s wing.

The air was cold, she walked past the manicured roses, her heart jumping at every rustle of the leaves.

"Oh, what a surprise," a dark, melodic voice drawled from behind a stone pillar.

Rissa spun around. Ronan was leaning against the cold stone, a cigarette dangling unlit from his fingers. He looked even more lethal in the morning light, his dark hair tousled by the breeze.

"What is my sweet sister-in-law doing by my wing of the garden?" He stepped forward, the smirk on his face growing wider and more predatory. "Are you here for the flowers... or are you here for me?"

"You know why I'm here," Rissa snapped, her voice trembling despite her effort to be brave. "What you did this morning... and last night, stop it Ronan."

"Is that what you're worried about?" He closed the distance between them until she was backed up against a hedge, the scent of him instantly triggering flashes of her legs wrapped around his waist last night.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the collar of her blouse. "I thought you'd be more worried about the fact that your husband didn't even notice you were needy."

He leaned down, his eyes scanning her face with a terrifying hunger. "You came looking for me… Do you want to continue from where we stopped, last night?"

Rissa’s hand flew up before she could even process the impulse. The sound of the slap echoed through the quiet garden.

Her palm burned, and her chest heaved as she stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of fury and terror. "Don't you dare," she hissed, her voice trembling. "Don't you ever suggest I wanted any of this. You took advantage of a mistake. You're a monster, Ronan."

Ronan’s head had snapped to the side from the force of the blow, but he didn't recoil. Slowly, he turned his face back toward her. A dark, crimson mark was blooming across his sharp cheekbone, but instead of anger, a slow, terrifyingly dark amusement spread across his features.

He let out a low, gravelly chuckle that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "Fierce," he murmured, his voice laced with a twisted kind of admiration. "I didn't think you had that much blood in your veins, Rissa. All that fire, and you waste it on a man who treats you like a porcelain doll he forgot he bought."

He stepped even closer, ignoring the way she tried to press herself further into the hedge. He caught her wrist, the same hand she had used to slap him and brought it up to his lips.

His eyes never left hers as he kissed her knuckles, his breath hot against her skin.

"You can slap me, you can hate me, and you can try to pretend nothing happened," he whispered, his smirk returning, sharper than a blade. "But we both know that when I touched you… you liked it!"

He leaned in, his mouth hovering just an inch from the ear he had bitten the night before. "Go back to your empty room, sister-in-law and play the role of a good wife. But remember... I’m the only one in this house who knows exactly what you sound like when you’re falling apart, I bet Finn doesn’t."

He let go of her hand abruptly, turning on his heel to walk back toward his wing without a backward glance, leaving her standing in the dirt, trembling and more unsettled than she had ever been in her life.