He pulls out a key and lights blink on a dark Mercedes sedan. He opens the passenger door and ushers me in, then goes around and gets in the driver’s side.
“Where’s your house?” he asks. His hands grip the steering wheel and his voice is thick with tension.
I give him directions and he pulls out into the street, taking me home.
15: Selene
Ronan is quiet on the drive to my place. I don’t remember either of us picking up my purse, but somehow it’s in my lap. I clutch it in my hands while I stare at the lights passing by.
We park outside my house. I’m still shaking as we go inside. Without a word, I go upstairs to my bedroom. I have to get out of these clothes. I can smell the stench of beer, feel his hand plunging into my jeans. I pull off my ripped shirt and change into a pair of leggings and an oversize blue sweater. I want a shower, but I don’t want to leave Ronan sitting downstairs alone for too long.
I come out of my room and hear him talking. He says my name and gives my address. I wonder if he’s talking to the police. We probably should have called them from the bar instead of leaving, but I couldn’t think about anything other than getting away.
I’m still so shaken up that my hands are trembling, but I go downstairs and get my phone. Kylie and Braxton will notice I’m gone. I don’t want them to worry, so I send them a quick text, saying I went home. I don’t tell them what happened. I don’t want to deal with Braxton freaking out, and he might kill the guy if he finds him. Literally.
Ronan puts his phone down. “I called the police and told them what I know.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“Come here,” he says and gently takes my wrists. He pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me. “It’s over. He won’t touch you again.”
I let Ronan hold me. I don’t care that he’s my boss, or that he feels so good I don’t want him to let go. Right now, I need him. I need him to keep his arms around me. I need to feel his breath against my hair, his strong hands on my back. I relax into him, closing my eyes.
After long moments, he pulls back and touches the side of my face with a gentle hand. “Did he hurt you?”
I nod and touch my jaw. “He hit me here.”
Ronan’s eyes flash with anger and his nostrils flare.
“Anywhere else?” he asks.
“I’ll probably have bruises where he grabbed me, but I don’t think it’s serious.” I brush his chin with my fingers. “You’re bleeding a little.”
He licks his lips and moves his jaw around. “I’m okay.”
My body is still pressed against him, my face close to his. He leans his forehead against mine and wraps his hand around the back of my neck. I tilt my head so my mouth moves closer to his. Despite the way my jaw aches, I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his lips against mine. My heart beats faster, and I slide my hands around his waist.
His phone rings and I gasp. I step back, and he grabs it off the counter.
“Yeah. Yes, it is.” He listens for a long moment. “Okay, thanks for letting us know.” He hangs up and puts his phone down. “That was the police. They’re sending someone over to the bar. They’ll call tomorrow if they need you to give a statement.”
“Okay,” I say.
He touches my face again. “You should put some ice on that.”
“So should you. There’s a bathroom over there if you want to clean up.”
Ronan goes to the bathroom and I get a couple ice packs out of the freezer. I wrap one in a paper towel and press it to the side of my jaw. Now that I’m calming down, pain blooms across my face. My cheek throbs; my lip feels swollen. My stomach turns, and I’m dangerously close to losing it. I close my eyes, leaning against the counter to steady myself, and take slow breaths. I felt better with Ronan close, and I hope he hurries back out here.
I’m okay. It’s over. I’m okay.
The front door opens. I hear footsteps coming toward the kitchen.
“Selene?” Braxton says. “Are you here?”
Ronan comes out of the bathroom holding a washcloth to his lip just as Braxton and Kylie walk in.
Braxton looks from me to Ronan, then back to me again. His eyes widen. Anger rips across his features and his body tenses up, his arms flexing.
“What the fuck?” Braxton asks and starts moving toward Ronan.
“Wait,” I say, holding up a hand, and Braxton stops. “Don’t, Brax. He didn’t do this.”
Kylie runs forward and puts her hand on Braxton’s arm. Ronan looks between Braxton and me, like he’s ready to get in his second fight of the night.
“What happened?” Kylie asks.
“Some psycho at the bar,” I say. “Ronan stopped him.”
Braxton glances at Ronan again, then rushes into the kitchen. “Are you all right?” He tips my head to the side and looks at my face. “Did someone fucking hit you? Who was it?”