Her Ruthless Keeper

Sorry to disappoint you

Ronan

I stood at the large windows of my penthouse, whiskey glass in hand, watching the city lights stretch out below me. One floor down, Emily Parker was probably still sitting by her own windows, staring at the same skyline. The thought should have been simple. She was a tool, a solution to a problem named Victor Reyes. But it was no longer simple.

Victor’s sessions earlier had gone better than expected. He had finally started talking about the ambush in detail. The way his hands shook, the way his voice cracked when he described the betrayal, it was the first real c***k in the wall he had built around himself. Emily had handled him with quiet skill. She never pushed too hard. She never let her own discomfort show. She just listened and guided, the way only someone who had lived through trauma could.

I had watched every second of it from the corner of the room. Her calm voice. The way she leaned forward slightly when Victor started to spiral. The soft strength in her posture. She was good. Too good. And that was the problem.

I set the glass down and walked to my desk. The file on Victor was still open. He was one of my most trusted captains. He knew routes, safe houses, names of people who could never be spoken about outside the family. If he broke completely and went to the feds, the damage would be massive. I could not kill a made man without clear cause. The rules of the family did not allow it. So I needed him stable. That was why Emily was here.

But if I was honest with myself, Victor was no longer the only reason.

I remembered the first time I had seen her years ago. She had been seventeen, standing in the corner of a dimly lit gathering her brother Marcus had brought her to. Quiet. Observant. She had watched everything with those sharp hazel eyes, as if she was already trying to map a way out. I had barely noticed her then. She was just Marcus’s little sister. Now she was under my roof, and I found myself thinking about her more than I should.

I took the elevator down and walked the short distance to her door. I did not knock. I never did. When I stepped inside she was standing near the kitchen island, still in the soft clothes she wore after work. She looked up, surprise flashing across her face before she forced it into something colder.

“You again,” she said.

I set a new brown paper bag on the island. “Dinner. You need to eat.”

She did not move toward it. “I’m not hungry.”

“You barely ate yesterday. Or the day before.” I leaned against the counter, studying her. “Victor is starting to trust you. That’s rare. Keep doing what you’re doing and this will be over sooner than you think.”

She crossed her arms. “And then what? I take the money and disappear?”

“That’s the deal,” I said. “You do the job. You stay where I can find you until it’s finished. Then you walk away with more money than most people see in a lifetime.”

She was quiet for a moment. I could see the conflict in her eyes. The part of her that wanted to believe she could still control something. The part of her that already knew she could not.

“Why me?” she asked finally. “There are other therapists in this city.”

I stepped closer. The air between us shifted. “Because you understand this life. You grew up in it. You know what it does to people. And because I chose you.”

She held my gaze, refusing to look away. I liked that about her. Most people flinched. She did not.

“You’re not what I expected,” I said quietly.

“What did you expect?”

“Someone weaker.”

A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

I almost smiled back. Almost. Instead I reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She tensed but did not pull away immediately. Her skin was warm under my fingers. For a second neither of us moved.

Then she stepped back. “Don’t.”

I lowered my hand. “Get some rest, Emily. The next session with Victor will be longer. He’s ready to talk more.”

I turned and left without waiting for a reply. The door closed behind me with a soft click. Back in my penthouse I poured another drink and stood at the windows again. One floor below, she was probably still standing in the same place, trying to convince herself that none of this meant anything.

Victor was the official reason she was here. That part was true. But every day it felt less like the whole truth. There were older debts. Older blood. Things involving her father, her brother, and choices that had been made years ago. She did not know those things yet. She was not ready.

I finished the whiskey and set the glass down.

Emily Parker was under my roof.

And I was already deciding how long I intended to keep her there.