His Panic
RONNY’S POV
My heartbeat was a fucking war drum inside my chest. I could feel it everywhere—my temples, my throat, my ribs threatening to crack with the force of it. But none of it mattered. Not compared to the look in her eyes.
Liliana.
She stood there, still wearing my shirt, her bare legs peeking out beneath the hem. Her hair was messy, her lips pink from sleep, her cheeks flushed. Christ, she looked so fucking beautiful, and the part of me that had been trying to deny what she did to me felt its last defenses crumble.
But her eyes—those betrayed me.
For half a second, I swore I saw it: hurt, raw and slicing. Then, just as quickly, it vanished. She smoothed her face into something unreadable, something sharp, like she’d just built an iron wall between us. And that shift burned worse than any bullet wound I’d ever taken.
She walked forward with slow, deliberate steps, her chin lifted, her shoulders squared. And then—she slipped her arm through mine. The move stunned me. For the first time since Diana barged in, I couldn’t breathe.
“Ronny,” she said, her voice deceptively calm, almost sweet, though I could feel the tension in her body pressed against me. “Is this lady bothering you?”
Her words sliced through the room, a blade coated in honey.
Diana’s lips curled, that venomous smirk stretching. “Well, well. We meet again.”
Liliana tilted her head, eyes glinting like polished steel. “Do we? Forgive me, but I don’t remember anyone unless they’re important.”
The hit landed. Hard.
Diana’s mask cracked, fury flashing so quick her eyes practically glowed with it. Her jaw locked, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “You little—”
Liliana cut her off, her voice firm, sharp, lethal in its precision. “Diana, is it? Please, my boyfriend doesn’t want you here. You have to go.”
The words my boyfriend detonated in my chest like shrapnel. My lungs stuttered, my pulse stumbled. Boyfriend. Coming from her lips, it was both salvation and damnation.
Diana barked out a bitter laugh, tossing her hair back. “What right do you have to tell me that?”
Liliana’s grip on my arm tightened—subtle, but enough for me to feel the tremor beneath her cool façade. “Because,” she said, voice steady as steel, “I’m his girlfriend.”
That word again. Girlfriend. It shouldn’t mean anything, not to a man like me, but fuck if it didn’t make something buried deep in me lurch forward like it wanted out.
Diana’s laugh turned shrill, ugly. “Girlfriend? You’re delusional.” Her gaze flicked to me, then back to Liliana. “Ronny doesn’t do girlfriends. You’re just the flavor of the month. He's just using your body. He’ll get bored of you soon enough.”
The smile that slid across Liliana’s face then—it wasn’t sweet. It was cold, mocking, the kind of smile that could tear a woman like Diana apart without ever raising her voice.
“Is that your way of admitting I have a nice body?” Liliana asked, her tone feather-light, almost playful.
Diana’s eyes went wide, her face twisting with rage. “This isn’t over, bitch.”
She spun her fury toward me, her finger stabbing the air. “And you—don’t think this changes anything. You’ll come back to me when you’re done with her. You always do.”
My blood boiled so hot I could barely see straight. “You’ve got five seconds to get out of my house,” I growled, my voice low, deadly calm. “After that, I’ll call security, and they won’t be as polite as I’m being right now.”
Her nostrils flared. She glared at Liliana one last time, eyes promising war, before storming out. The slam of the door rattled through the walls, but the silence that followed was worse.
Because the second Diana disappeared, Liliana slipped her arm from mine.
The cold hit me instantly.
Her expression hardened, her eyes shuttered as she turned slightly away, putting distance between us in more ways than one.
“My clothes should be arriving soon,” she said flatly. “And then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Her words landed like knives, one after another.
“Liliana—”
“You know what?” she cut in, her voice cracking just barely, just enough for me to hear it. “I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you. This is my fault. I should’ve respected myself more, but I was so blinded—” She shook her head, lips trembling before she forced them into a bitter line. “Let’s just keep things professional. Like you wanted. Once my mother’s killer is found, you won’t have to worry about seeing me again.”
Each word gutted me, ripped me raw from the inside. Professional. Distance. Like I wanted. Bullshit.
She turned, already walking away from me, and panic surged like I’d been shoved to the edge of a cliff. Instinct overrode thought. My hand shot out, catching her wrist, pulling her back until her body crashed flush against mine.
Her breath hitched, her palms pressing against my chest as she looked up at me with wide, furious eyes.
“You want us to act professional,” I growled, my voice hoarse, my eyes burning into hers, “after what we shared last night?”
Her lips parted, trembling, but then her chin tipped up, defiance flaring. “It was just sex. So let me go.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My grip tightened, my body caging hers in place, the war in my chest louder than it had ever been. She was lying—I could see it in her eyes, in the way her pulse raced beneath her skin. But she was trying so damn hard to believe it.
Then—
A sharp cough cut through the tension.
Both of us froze.
I turned my head, jaw clenched, to find Maria, standing awkwardly at the edge of the room, her gaze carefully averted. She held a bag in her hands, the handles looped over her fingers.
“Miss,” she said softly, her voice carrying uneasily through the thick silence. “This just came for you.”
Liliana pulled away from me then, quick and deliberate, slipping from my hold like smoke between my fingers. She crossed the room, her movements brisk, collected, like none of what just happened had touched her.
She took the bag with a polite smile. “Thank you, Maria.”
Maria nodded once before disappearing as quickly as she’d come.
And just like that, I was left standing there, fists clenching, lungs dragging in air like I’d just lost a fight.
I watched Liliana turn and walk toward the stairs, her back straight, her head high, her hair swaying with each step.
She didn’t look back.
And my chest—my chest had never felt heavier.
Because for the first time in years, I wanted something. Someone. And I didn't know how to go about it.
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