Her Ruthless Keeper

My Rules

Emily

The elevator ride down felt endless. My legs were shaky, my clothes still damp from the rain, and my mind spun with everything Ronan Vale had said. His taunting voice, the way he had circled me, the casual offer of millions — it all left me reeling. I stepped out into the rainy night and hailed a cab, waving frantically until one stopped. The driver gave me a concerned look in the rearview mirror as I slid in, but I just gave him my apartment address and stared out the window, the city lights blurring through the rain-streaked glass.

Back in my small apartment, I locked the door and leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. The familiar space of my cozy living room with its second-hand couch, the kitchenette where I made tea after long days, the bedroom with my simple wooden bed , suddenly felt fragile. Like it could be taken away with one phone call from him.

I changed into dry clothes, made myself a cup of hot tea, and sat on the couch, staring at the wall. Victor Reyes. A trusted man in Ronan’s Mafia family who had seen too much. Ronan couldn’t afford to lose him or kill him. So he had chosen me — the therapist with a hidden past — to fix the problem.

The offer of millions lingered in my mind. Enough money to disappear for good. To start over somewhere far away from this city and its ghosts. But at what cost? Working for a man like Ronan Vale meant stepping back into the world I had run from after Marcus’s death. The world of violence, secrets, and power.

Sleep came in fragments that night, filled with dreams of steel-gray eyes and taunting smiles.

The next evening, as promised, two men in dark suits arrived at my apartment. They were polite but firm as they helped me pack a suitcase with clothes, my laptop, and a few personal items. I didn’t fight them. Fighting would only make things worse.

The apartment Ronan had prepared for me was on the top floor of a secure building. It was luxurious — open-plan living area with modern furniture, a large kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows with tinted glass, and a comfortable bedroom. It felt like a beautiful cage.

I had just finished unpacking when the door opened without a knock. Ronan walked in, looking every bit the powerful underboss in his tailored black suit. In one hand, he carried a simple brown paper bag. His steel-gray eyes swept over me slowly, taking in my casual loungewear and damp hair from the shower. The look was intense, lingering, making my skin feel too warm.

“Settling in?” he asked, his voice carrying that familiar taunting edge. He placed the brown bag on the kitchen island. “I brought dinner. Burgers. Figured you might not have eaten.”

I crossed my arms, standing near the windows. “How can you just come in without knocking or ringing a bell?”

He smiled, amused. “It’s my building. My rules. You’ll get used to it.”

He leaned against the kitchen island. “Victor’s first session is tomorrow afternoon. I expect you to be ready.”

I met his gaze, trying not to show how much his presence affected me. “Why me? There are other therapists.”

“Because you understand the kind of trauma he’s dealing with,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “You grew up in this life. You know what it does to people. And because I wanted you here.”

I swallowed hard. The way he looked at me made it hard to breathe.

“And the money?” I asked quietly. “The millions you mentioned. Is that real?”

“Very real,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Do this job well, Emily, and I’ll make sure you’re set for life. You can run as far as you want after this is over. But for now… you’re mine to keep.”

He stepped closer, tilting my chin up with two fingers. His touch was firm. “Try to run again, Elena,” he murmured, using my old name. “And you will regret it in ways you can’t even imagine.”

I pulled away, my heart pounding. “I hate you.”

His smile was dark and satisfied. “Good. Hate keeps things interesting.”

He turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands, the brown paper bag with the burgers sitting untouched on the island.

Why did I ever have that stupid crush on him all those years ago? The memory made me feel weak. The same man who now controlled my life was the one I had secretly admired. How twisted was that?

And the worst part was… a small, treacherous part of me was already wondering what it would be like to stop running.