When Ronan hale calls

IVY POV

I don’t know what’s scarier… waking up to your phone ringing nonstop at 2 a.m., or the fact that

my body already knew who it was before I even checked the screen.

Aghhh.

My thoughts went wild as the phone buzzed again. And again. Five missed calls.

I groaned, burying my face in the pillow. I tried to ignore it, really did. But the ringing wouldn’t

stop, and my chest tightened with dread.

I reached for my phone and squinted at the screen.

Ronan Hale.

Of course.

I answered before it could ring again. “He…” My voice came out sleepy and rough.

“Tutor girl,” he cut in. “Get ready. I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes.”

I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up. I checked the time.

2:00 a.m.

“It’s… two a.m.,” I said, still half-asleep.

“Yeah. I know that,” he replied, completely unbothered. “Get ready.”

“Can’t we do this…”

“You already know my rules,” he snapped, cutting me off again. “I’m already pissed you missed

my calls six times. Don’t make me wait.”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone in shock.

Then I screamed…face buried in my pillow so I wouldn’t wake Max.

I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy, my head pounding.

Walked to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and brushed my teeth. No way I was

showing up smelling like beer and meatballs. I wasn’t giving him anything to tease me about.

I stared at my reflection.

Tired eyes. Messy hair. A girl who did not sign up for this.

I pulled on a hoodie and a pair of jeans, moved quietly through the apartment, and scribbled a

note for Max on the counter before heading downstairs.

Twenty minutes, he said.

I waited.

And waited.

It’s been an hour now.

No car. No, Ronan Hale.

I crossed my arms, irritation burning through my exhaustion.

He sure has a serious problem with keeping to time.

I could just go back upstairs, curl up under the blankets, and forget this whole nightmare.

But I couldn’t shake the thought that... That psychopath might show up anyway… banging at my

door like he owned the place.

I shook my head.

Crazy, I told myself. Completely crazy.

Here I was. A college girl. Alone. With zero fighting skills to speak of.

“I should have taken those self-defense classes with Zoe,” I muttered, shivering.

It was freezing, and my legs were starting to go numb. I couldn’t just stand here anymore. I had

only one option left… even though I knew he probably wouldn’t pick up.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, whispered a small, shaky prayer, and pressed the call button.

One ring. Two rings. Three.

Come on, Hale. Pick up.

“What’s up?”

Did he just… say “what’s up”?

“Why did you call?” His voice was cold, irritated, and way too calm for the chaos in my chest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted, my voice cracking from anger and exhaustion. “You

woke me up, told me to come downstairs, said you’d be here in twenty minutes… It’s been an

hour and thirty minutes, and you have the nerve to ask why I called?!”

There was silence on the other end for a second.

Then

“I’ll send someone to pick you. Text me your location.”

And just like that… he hung up.

I stood there, phone trembling in my hand, cheeks burning, and my heart pounding as if I’d just

run a marathon.

I stared at my phone for a long moment, trying to make sense of the chaos in my head. My hands

were still shaking, my legs frozen from standing outside too long, and my chest felt like it was

going to explode from a mix of anger and fear.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and wrapped my arms around myself. Okay, Ivy. You can do

this. It’s just Ronan Hale. He’s human… mostly.

Mostly. That thought made me groan.

I glanced around the quiet street. Not a soul in sight. No cars. No lights except the dim glow of a

streetlamp flickering above me. Perfect setting for a horror movie.

I had one option left. Slowly, I pulled out my phone again and texted him my location, my

fingers stiff and trembling. Every second waiting for a response made my stomach twist tighter.

Of course, he was fast. “Got it. Pick up in ten,” came the short reply before he hung up.

Ten minutes.

I cursed under my breath and started pacing, my hoodie doing almost nothing against the cold. I

couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked right now… cool, calm, infuriatingly handsome as

always, smirking enjoying the fact that he was tormenting me.

I couldn’t help but shiver. Not just from the cold. My heart wouldn’t stop hammering. I wanted

to scream, run, and punch something all at once.

… You need this Ivy. That’s it. Keep your head. Focus. Survive.

I took a deep breath, wrapping my hoodie tighter around me, and waited.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of a car engine reached my ears.

A sleek Mercedes-Maybach S-Class glided to a stop right in front of me.

My stomach did a flip. Of course, it would be some ridiculously expensive car. Of course.

A man in his forties stepped out, perfectly dressed, calm, collected.

“Miss Cross?” he asked politely, his tone formal.

I stared at him suspiciously. My arms crossed over my chest. “Who… who are you?”

“No need to be scared, Miss,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Mr. Hale sent me.”

Mr. Hale. My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard, trying not to panic.

He walked around the car and opened the door for me. I hesitated for a moment, staring at the

polished leather interior, and then carefully stepped inside.

“Before we go to where Mr. Hale is,” he said smoothly, “permit me a quick stop. I have to pick

up a gift.”

A gift. At 4 a.m.

I blinked, my mind spinning. Is he serious?

I nodded slowly, gripping my bag on my lap. My heart was hammering, my thoughts running

wild. Who sends gifts at this hour? Who wakes someone up in the middle of the night and then

has the audacity to make them get into a stranger’s car

Hale of course.

And yet… part of me couldn’t stop staring out the window, wondering what this gift could be