Chapter 7 My Wedding Night with the Mafia Boss

Sienna stared at the bed long after Susan left.

It was enormous, but size did not solve the problem. One bed was still one bed.

Their agreement allowed them to share a room for appearances. It also said neither could demand physical intimacy from the other.

On paper, it had sounded simple.

Standing inside Ronan Walsh's bedroom, it felt anything but simple.

His scent lingered in the sheets—cedar, soap, and something darker she could not name. A shoulder holster rested on a chair beside the wardrobe. The pistol had been removed, but the sight of it reminded her where she was.

She had married the most dangerous man on the East Coast.

And she felt safer in his home than she ever had with her own family.

Sienna showered and changed into the ivory robe Susan had left for her. Beneath it, she wore a thin silk nightgown. She had packed it for a wedding night with Arnold.

The thought made her want to throw it away.

Instead, she looked at herself in the mirror.

Arnold had controlled enough of her life.

He would not control what she wore after leaving it.

The bedroom door opened shortly before midnight.

Ronan entered without his jacket. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and a faint line of blood marked one cuff.

Sienna noticed the exhaustion in his expression before she noticed the stain.

"Are you hurt?"

He looked at the blood on his cuff.

"Not mine."

The answer should not have been attractive.

It was.

Ronan removed his watch and placed it beside the bed.

"Susan said you were worried about the sleeping arrangement."

"Susan talks too much."

"Susan reports anything that may affect your safety or comfort."

"A bed is now a security concern?"

"With me in it, possibly."

She looked at him, uncertain whether he was joking.

His mouth shifted slightly. "You can sleep here. I'll use the study."

"This is your room."

"It became ours today."

He walked to the wardrobe, took out a clean shirt, and paused.

"Sienna, look at me."

She did.

"The contract is not permission," he said. "The ring is not permission. Being my wife does not mean you owe me anything."

His voice lowered.

"If I touch you and you want me to stop, say it once."

"And you'll stop?"

"Immediately."

No anger. No wounded male pride. No demand that she prove she was a proper wife.

Arnold had once become furious because she pulled her hand away in public.

Ronan, who commanded armed men and controlled half the harbor, was promising to obey a single word from her.

"Thank you," she said.

Something unreadable crossed his face.

"You should never have to thank a man for that."

He took the clean shirt and left for the study.

Sienna climbed into bed alone.

For a while, she listened to the rain against the windows. She told herself the estate was protected by cameras, guards, steel gates, and the man feared by every criminal family from Boston to New York.

Still, when sleep came, the warehouse came with it.

Hands dragged her across concrete.

Someone laughed as a blade cut through her clothes.

Her phone lay just beyond her fingers, Arnold's final message glowing on the cracked screen.

Stop creating trouble.

Sienna tried to scream, but no sound came.

Then arms closed around her.

She fought wildly until a deep voice reached through the nightmare.

"Sienna. Wake up."

Her eyes flew open.

Ronan sat beside her, holding both her wrists to keep her from hurting herself. His shirt hung open, as if he had dressed in a hurry.

"You're at Blackthorn," he said. "No one can reach you here."

She stared at him, unable to breathe.

"They killed me."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

His grip loosened.

"Who?"

Sienna shook her head. Her body had begun to tremble.

Ronan released her wrists and started to move away.

She caught his shirt.

"Don't go."

He became very still.

Then he pulled her against his chest.

His heartbeat was strong beneath her cheek. One hand moved slowly down her back while the other cradled the back of her head.

"No one will take you from this house," he said. "They would have to come through me."

The promise broke something open inside her.

Sienna lifted her face.

Ronan looked down at the same moment.

She kissed him.

For one breath, he did not respond.

Then his hand tightened in her hair.

The second kiss was nothing like the one at the altar. His mouth opened over hers, hot and demanding. Sienna gasped, and he used the sound to deepen it.

Her robe slipped from one shoulder.

Ronan pulled back just enough to look at her.

"Do you know what you're asking for?"

Her pulse beat hard beneath his thumb.

"Yes."

He lowered her onto the bed.

His mouth moved from her lips to her throat. Heat followed every touch. Sienna's fingers slid into his hair as he kissed the sensitive skin below her ear.

The robe loosened beneath his hand.

He stopped with his forehead against hers, his breathing rough.

"Tell me to stop," he said. "I will."

Sienna clutched his shirt.

"What if I don't want you to stop?"

His eyes turned almost black.

The silk at her shoulder tore beneath his hand.