A Hand to Hold

Chapter ten

~ Ronan

*

My bedroom began to lighten with the morning sun as I heard my phone vibrate on the nightstand. I grabbed the device to find a text from my bride-to-be. Natalie asked if I could send a car to the airport to pick up her best friend, Katrina. When I assured her I would take care of it, she responded, “Thank you, Ronan. For everything.” I could almost hear her sweet voice say my name.

*

The night before, when I’d heard her speak my given name for the first time, I had to fight the desire to push her against the nearest surface and r****h those pretty pink lips of hers. It’d been too long since I’d had any release. With endless CEO responsibilities and the search for a wife, I hadn’t the time for flings. Now, it was too late. I promised Natalie fidelity, and that was a promise I would keep.

*

My hangover tempted me to stay in bed, but that wasn’t an option. There were a million and one tasks to accomplish before my wedding that evening. I groaned aloud at the knowledge I’d soon be a married man, a role I once swore I’d never fill. After forcing myself out of bed, I showered and absentmindedly went through my morning routine.

*

With a final look at my reflection, I fastened the last button on my grey suit jacket and left the room. Downstairs, I found my housekeeper in the kitchen. “You’re later than usual this morning,” she commented as I took a seat at the kitchen island. “Coffee, please, Marie,” I said. I couldn’t interact with anyone until I’d done something about my headache. She set a steaming mug of my favorite Italian roast beside me, as well as a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol. “Bless you,” I told her, twisting off the lid.

*

Marie Wallace was in her late fifties and had been in my employment since her late forties. She kept her curly brown hair perpetually pinned back, and her stature was on the short side with a soft frame. Marie kept all aspects of my household in order. She didn’t live in the house, yet it seemed she was always there when I needed her.

*

“Would you kindly double whatever you’re making for breakfast?” I asked Marie in between gulps of coffee. “Callum is upstairs.”

“Is he also nursing a hangover?” she inquired without judgment.

“Yes.”

*

In no time, Marie set a hot meal before me and a covered plate beside me. After food and caffeine, I felt like a new man. I wiped the corner of my mouth with the cloth napkin and slid the cleared plate away as I said, “Marie, I need you to freshen up the guest room today. It’ll have a permanent occupant by tonight.” She looked up from her grocery list and over at me in surprise as she replied, “An occupant?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Male or female?”

“Female.” With a hand on her hip, she furrowed her brows and said, “Ronan Ó Ceallaigh, in all my years running your household, you’ve never once brought one of your conquests here.” I loved the irony that a man like me, who never knew his mother, could have no shortage of motherly influences.

*

“She is not a conquest,” I corrected Marie. “Come tonight, she’ll be the new lady of the house.” Her eyes went wide at my announcement. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t have time for an explanation this morning. Just prepare the room, please. As well as anything else in the house you deem necessary for a lady’s inhabitance. Thank you.”

*

With her list in hand, Marie left the kitchen annoyed but accommodating. Moments later, heavy footsteps announced Callum’s presence. “Need sustenance,” he groaned, taking the barstool beside me. “Here,” I said, sliding his plate toward him. “Hurry up and eat. I have an important task for you today. Consider it part of your best man duties.”

“Uh-huh,” came his reply. Attempting to communicate with him before he came out of his post-drunken stupor was pointless. I left Callum to his breakfast and headed for my home office. Inside one of the credenza cabinets, I kept a small safe. I unlocked it with my thumbprint and withdrew a small black box.

*

Callum was most of the way through his meal when I returned to the kitchen. “What is this important task of yours?” he asked between bites.

“I need you to pick up Natalie’s friend, Katrina, from the airport.” With a hopeful gleam in his eye, he said, “Can I take the Lamb?” I laughed mockingly and replied, “No f*****g way.”

“Come on, don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you with my life… just not with my Lamborghini.”

~~*~~

In the main elevator of my office building, I ascended to the sixteenth floor. When I reached Natalie’s temporary apartment, I knocked once before using my thumbprint to let myself in. “Hello?” I called, announcing my arrival.

“Be out in a sec,” Natalie responded from the other room. I set her coffee on the kitchen island and stacked the black box from my safe on top.

*

When Natalie came around the corner, I nearly dropped my coffee. She was in the middle of putting her arms through my white robe, but I caught a quick look at what she’d slept in— one of my shirts, no bottoms. Holy f**k, I wanted her.

*

Over the past year, I’d effectively blocked my brain from recognizing her as anything other than my employee. But the second I caught sight of her in my shirt, all the smutty thoughts I had when we first bumped into one another came flooding back.

*

Natalie’s voice broke my trance. “Sorry, I overslept.” She tied the belt on the robe and added, “I’ve never slept in a bed that comfortable.”

“I’m glad,” was all I could think to reply.

*

“What is that?” Natalie asked when her eyes landed on the box atop her coffee cup.

“Your latte,” I teased.

“Not that, the box.”

“Oh, that.” I reached for the velvet box and said, “You didn’t expect to get married without a ring, did you?” Astonishment flashed across her face. “How in the world did you get a ring so fast?”

“Let’s just say I had it on hand.”

*

I opened the lid and placed the ring box on the counter directly in front of her. According to her expression, she was more than satisfied. “Ronan, it’s exquisite,” she whispered in awe. I wasn’t an overly emotional man, but I couldn’t deny the spark of warmth I experienced in seeing Natalie’s appreciation for the ring my future wife was destined to wear. The design was modest but stunning— just like Natalie.

*

“What kind of stones are those?” she asked transfixed.

“Morganite,” I answered. The peachy-pink gems complimented the rose-gold band beautifully. “I don’t think I could’ve picked a more beautiful ring myself,” she commended with a delightful smile. “You chose well.” I refrained from correcting her assumption that I’d acquired the ring by choice.

*

“Try it on,” I said. “I need to know if it requires resizing.”

“Oh.. yeah, of course.” But she hesitated.

“Here, allow me.” I removed the ring from its cushion and slid it smoothly onto Natalie’s ring finger, ignoring the chills the gesture incited.

*

“Hmm, a little loose,” I noted.

“Only because my hands are cold,” she claimed. “And I like it a tad loose, so it won’t be uncomfortable when my hands warm up.”

“Are you sure? I won’t have you losing it.” I knew it made me a shitty husband-to-be, but honestly, I held more attachment to that ring than the woman I entrusted it to. “I promise, I’m sure,” she insisted. “If it were any smaller, it wouldn’t slide past my knuckle.” She shook her hand, demonstrating the ring wasn’t loose enough to slip off accidentally. “Alright then,” I conceded. “One task down, only a hundred more to go.”

*

“You know,” Natalie began, reaching for her latte, “we wouldn’t be so busy if you didn’t insist on getting married today.”

“What’s wrong with busy? I like busy.”

“I’ve noticed.” She took a drink and continued, “But you should know, you’ve earned yourself a place on my aunt’s bad side.”

“What?” I responded in confusion.

“She’s not very happy you’re stealing me away so suddenly.”

“Stealing? I think you mean rescuing.”

*

My fiancé nervously nibbled her bottom lip. “Natalie,” I warned, “you did tell her the details of our arrangement, didn’t you?”

“I may have omitted a few things,” she timidly confessed. “I didn’t want her to worry.”

“A few things?” I questioned. “It must have been a f*****g lot, to put me on her bad side before she’s even met me.”

“What do you care if she likes you?”

“If there’s one thing I know about marriage, it’s that I’m not just marrying you, but your entire family. I thought I was getting off easy with you, as your family only consists of one person. Yet, I still somehow ended up as public enemy number one.”

*

Natalie’s expression grew troubled by some sudden realization. “Natalie? What is it?” When she didn’t answer, I moved around the kitchen island and placed my hands gently on her shoulders. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She tilted her head up to look at me and explained, “What you said about marrying each other’s family…” Her words trailed off, leading me to ask, “What about it?”

“What will yours think of me?”

*

With a sigh of relief, I clarified, “That’s what you’re worried about?” She nodded nervously. She really was too sweet for words. “Natalie, I couldn’t give a damn what my family thinks. Except my grandmother, and I’m already certain she’ll love you.”

“How can you be sure?” I looked into her sensitive green eyes and replied, “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?” Her lack of an answer was all the confirmation I needed.

*

With her concerns effectively assuaged, our proximity suddenly made my pulse quicken. “Natalie?” I said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Go get dressed. Knowing you’re bare-legged under that robe is distracting, to say the least.”

*

Natalie disappeared into the bedroom, reappearing before I’d even finished my coffee. Behind my cup, I attempted to conceal my stunned reaction. She wore her typical business attire: a silk blouse tucked neatly into a knee-length pencil skirt. Her hair fell in soft, loose curls down her back, and she wore a barely perceptible layer of makeup. How she’d gone from disheveled to perfectly put-together in a matter of minutes was astonishing.

*

When I saw her searching the floor around the sofa, I asked, “What are you doing?”

“I can’t find my shoes,” she replied, joining me in the kitchen.

“You left them in my office, remember?”

“No, honestly, I don’t. Yesterday evening was pretty much a blur. I wouldn’t have believed any of it actually happened, if I hadn’t woken up in that bed.”

“You do remember agreeing to marry me, don’t you?” I asked in jest, causing her to smack my arm playfully. My perfectly professional assistant had a playful side? I could work with that.

*

“I guess I’m as ready as I’m gonna get,” Natalie informed me.

“Sit yourself down and drink your coffee,” I commanded.

“I thought we were in a hurry?”

“Just do as you’re told, lass. Let me handle your shoes.”

“It’s fine, Ronan. I’ll get them when we get to the office.”

“We aren’t going to the office. Now drink your damn latte.” She looked at me questioningly but ultimately did as instructed.

*

I called the main company line and reached my receptionist, giving Tiffany instructions to fetch the shoes from my office and deliver them to the apartment. After I hung up the phone, I caught Natalie admiring the ring on her hand while she drank from the paper cup. A smile slipped through my control for a second, but I reined it in before joining her at the island.

*

As we finished our beverages, a knock sounded at the door. Natalie stood to answer, but I stopped her, saying, “Unless you want to be the subject of office gossip, I’d stay where you are.” Natalie relaxed as I moved to the door. I thanked Tiffany as she passed me the shoes. “Why do you need Natalie’s shoes?” she asked, attempting to look past me into the apartment. I closed the door without answering.

*

“Looks like I’m going to be the topic of gossip anyway,” Natalie commented from behind me. I turned to face her, saying, “It’s not my fault the gossip queen has your shoes memorized. Who does that?”

“Women,” Natalie answered. She let out a laugh, and I enjoyed her amusement as I pointed out, “It makes little difference. Come tomorrow, you’ll be my wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~