My Life Is a Mess
RONNY’S POV
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my hands like they belong to someone else.
They won’t stop shaking.
Every time I curl them into fists, I see her again. Pressed against the door. My mouth on hers. Her breathless little gasp when my fingers slid inside her. The way she broke apart under me, trembling, clutching at me like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.
And then—God help me—the sound she made when I sucked her nipples into my mouth. That broken moan that went straight to my head and nearly dragged me under.
I drag both hands down my face, groaning. What the hell did I do?
Why her?
I’ve been with women before. More than I care to count. It was always easy, always detached. Sex was just sex, nothing more. Get in, get out, move on. Never once did I think about them after. Never once did I crave them when they weren’t in front of me.
But Liliana…
Liliana is different.
She’s my client. She’s the one I’m supposed to be protecting. The one whose mother’s killer I need to find. The one I need to keep at arm’s length if I want to do this job right.
And yet here I am, wanting nothing more than to go back to her room and finish what I started.
I lean forward, elbows digging into my knees, and clutch at my hair like I can yank the thoughts out of my skull.
I should never have kissed her. I should never have touched her. I should never have let myself get that close.
But I did.
And now all I can think about is her.
The way she melted into me like she’d been waiting her whole damn life for that kiss. The way her lips tasted. The way her body responded to mine like it already knew me.
I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I push to my feet, restless, pacing the length of my room. The air feels too heavy, too thick, so I shove open the balcony doors and step outside.
The night is cool, quiet. Stars burn above me, but even that does nothing to settle the storm in my chest. I grip the railing and bow my head, breathing hard.
No woman has ever rattled me like this. Not one.
No woman has ever made me jealous.
But tonight, when Daniel leaned in too close, when Liliana smiled at him in that polite, practiced way of hers, I nearly lost it. My blood boiled. My fists itched. And before I knew it, I was at her side, my hand clamped on her waist, my voice cutting through the air as I claimed her in front of everyone.
Boyfriend.
The word still echoes in my head, raw and reckless.
What the hell was I thinking?
A part of me whispers that maybe if I just take her once, it’ll stop. Maybe if I let myself have her—really have her—this obsession will burn itself out and I can go back to being in control.
But another part of me knows that’s a lie. One taste, and I’ll never be able to let her go.
I laugh bitterly, shaking my head. What a joke. Me, the man who swore never to let feelings get in the way of work, standing here like a teenager with a crush, haunted by the memory of her lips.
I force myself back inside, but it doesn’t help. The silence of the room only amplifies her voice in my head. I throw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep doesn’t come. Hours drag by. The shadows shift.
And still, all I can think about is her.
At some point, exhaustion must have dragged me under, because the next thing I know, there’s a knock at my door. A sharp, insistent knock that jolts me awake.
I groan, rubbing my eyes. My whole body feels heavy, restless. My head throbs.
The morning light streams in through the curtains, too bright, too accusing.
Dragging myself upright, I stumble to the door and pull it open.
Maria stands there, hands folded neatly in front of her. Her polite smile is too bright for this hour.
“Good morning, sir,” she says. “Someone is here to see you.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. For one insane second, I think it’s her. Liliana.
But then my brain catches up. She doesn’t know where I live.
“Who?” I rasp.
“It’s Mr Richard,” Maria replies.
Relief and disappointment crash through me all at once. I nod, running a hand through my hair. “Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”
By the time I get to the sitting room, Hardin is already there, sprawled comfortably on the couch with a plate of something in front of him. Typical Hardin—always eating, always at ease, like the world isn’t falling apart around him.
“Morning,” he says, grinning around a mouthful of food. “You look like shit.”
I collapse onto the opposite couch with a grunt. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”
He smirks. “Rough night?”
“You could say that.”
Not that I’m about to tell him the truth. Not that I’d ever admit I let my control slip.
Hardin studies me for a moment, his smile fading into something softer. “I just wanted to check in before heading to the office. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Yeah. Thanks, man.”
We sit in silence for a bit, the sound of him chewing filling the room. I glance at him and feel that old twinge of envy. Hardin—the kid who grew up with me in the orphanage, the one who used to fight beside me for scraps—is now a man with a family. A wife. A baby on the way. He found his roots. He found his place.
And me?
I can’t even find my parents. Can’t even hold a relationship together. My life is a mess, and the one woman I actually think I might want is the one I can’t have.
I scrub a hand over my face, leaning back against the couch. “So, how’s everything with your wife?”
His grin returns instantly, bright and boyish. “Good. Really good. She’s glowing. We’ve got the nursery all set up. Can’t believe it’s happening, you know? Me, a dad.”
I force a smile, but inside, something twists. Happy for him. Jealous of him. Both at once.
We’re still talking when Maria reappears in the doorway.
“Sir,” she says, her tone careful. “There’s someone else here to see you.”
I frown. “Who?”
Before she can answer, a familiar voice cuts through the air. Bright. Musical.
“Good morninnnggg.”
My entire body goes rigid.
That voice.
Her voice.
Liliana.
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