Chapter 2 Deep Emotions

• Ronan
• I slammed the dressing room door shut behind me, the echo echoing through the passageway. The tie around my neck felt like a noose, and I yanked it off, tossing it aside. The arranged wedding had concluded mere minutes ago, and now I was back in the dressing room, seething.
• My fists clenched at my sides, and I couldn't suppress the growl that escaped my throat. This entire situation was a nightmare. Marrying into a Mafia family to secure family alliances? It felt like I was a pawn in a game I never agreed to play.
• But what infuriated me the most was Liam. The memory of him, on his knees, his lips around my cock—it made my stomach churn. I felt disgusted, violated, and yet... No. I couldn't go there.
• I should have stopped him. Should have pushed him away, punched him, anything. But I didn't. And that realization made me feel even more repulsed with him, and with myself.
• With a roar, I punched the wall, the pain in my knuckles grounding me momentarily. Blood trickled down my hand, but I welcomed the sting. It was a distraction from the chaos in my mind.
• I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed the beer from the table, and twisted the cap off like it had wronged me and started chugging the whole thing down my throat.
• It was bitter and sharp just like my mood. Maybe if I drank enough, I’d forget the disgust crawling under my skin. Maybe it would drown out the memory of Liam’s mouth. His lips. His tongue. The way it felt too fucking good when it shouldn’t have felt like anything at all.
• So, why the hell was I stroking myself like a hormonal teenager without control earlier? It started with those familiar chest pains, and I reached for my medication. But in my haste, I grabbed the wrong pill—an aphrodisiac I kept around for... occasions. Damn it, I should have been more careful.
• The effects were immediate. The feeling of heat, and then a growing bulge. I couldn't walk down the aisle like that. I needed relief, and fast. So I did what I had to do.
• But I didn't check the door. I was so focused on the urgency that I didn't hear Liam enter. And then... everything happened.
• His lips, his tongue, the way he took control—it was overwhelming. I hated that I enjoyed it. The memory made me feel sick, yet aroused. What's wrong with me?
• I looked down at myself, the arousal returning despite my disgust. I growled, trying to suppress the conflicting emotions. This wasn't who I was.
• The door creaked open and there he was—my father stepping in like he owned the air I breathed. His eyes scanned the bottle in my hand, and I could feel the disapproval radiating off him like heat.
• "Why are you drinking?" he asked, his tone laced with contempt. "Have you forgotten what today is, Ronan?"
• I clenched my jaw, lifted the bottle a little, and gave him a sharp look. "You should be happy I'm not smoking."
• His gaze narrowed. "So, what the hell happened back there at the wedding? Why were you acting so gruff? Grumpy? You looked like someone forced you at gunpoint."
• I slammed the bottle down, liquid sloshing over the rim. "What do you expect me to do? Smile? Be cheerful while you sell me off to someone I don’t even love? The person I love is—"
• "Don't you dare," he cut in, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped forward.
• He grabbed my shirt collar and straightened it like he was squashing the thought of me down with his hands. "You had better not say that name here. Do you get me?"
• My fists curled at my sides.
• "You’ve been acting like a damn child," he snarled, his voice deep and cold. "Remember the kind of family you come from! The De Luca isn't some petty street gang. You're a member of one of the most powerful families in the city. Act like it."
• I didn’t look up from the bottle in my hand. Instead, I focused on the amber liquid, pretending it could drown out his voice. But it didn’t. It never did.
• "You’re not the only one who has to make sacrifices, Ronan."
• What a fucking big joke.
• I could feel his eyes on me, like lasers cutting into my skin. I had always hated the way he could make me feel small with just a look.
• "I don’t care about your damn arranged marriage or how you feel about it," he continued. "We’ve got bigger problems now, and I need you to step up."
• My teeth clenched, and I bit back a curse. "I didn't ask for this."
• "I didn’t ask for a weak son, either," he shot back, his words slicing through the air like a whip. "How are you going to take my place as the Don if you keep acting this way?"
• I was getting fed up with his condescending tone, but I knew better than to argue. That never ended well. Not with him.
• "Now listen to me, Ronan. You have a job to do."
• I froze, a knot tightening in my stomach. "What job?"
• His eyes narrowed, and the air in the room seemed to grow heavier. "You’re going to get close to our business partner’s daughter. Your new wife, of course. I expect that relationship to be solidified quickly. She’s not just some pretty face. She’s an asset. And I need you to ensure the alliance with their family is stronger than ever."
• My jaw tightened. The weight of his words sank in, and a bitter taste filled my mouth.
• "You expect me to just—what again? Marry her, pretend everything’s fine, and forget about the fact that I don’t want her?"
• "It’s not about what you want, Ronan. It’s about what needs to be done. Don’t forget who you are. The Don's Heir. The sooner you handle that, the sooner you’ll be in a position to protect the family." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "And you’ll need that power. There are enemies out there who want to see you fail. If they think you're weak, you’re already dead."
• I could feel my pulse quicken, my chest hurting again. That darn pain that made me clench my jaw so bad.
• "I’ll handle it," I muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
• But it wasn’t enough.
• "There’s more," he added, stepping closer, his eyes boring into mine. "I’ve already made arrangements. You’ll be accompanying her on a trip to finalize the contract with the business partners. I want you to observe everything. Look for any sign of weakness, any opportunity to strike. I don’t care how you do it. But you’re not leaving her side until the deal is done."
• I was silent, but my mind was racing. A mission. A task. Another weight added to my shoulders, and all the while, I felt like I was sinking further into a world I couldn’t escape.
• He turned to leave but paused at the door. "Meanwhile, your wife is already preparing for the night. So, you had better give me a grandchild." And then, just like that, the door slammed shut behind him.
• I stared at the space he’d just exited. My whole body felt like it was shaking, but I couldn’t tell if it was from rage or something deeper. I lifted the bottle, took a heavy swig, and let it burn all the way down.
• What the hell am I even doing anymore?