Stop Being Stubborn
RONNY’S POV
Her body tensed beneath mine, her hands pressing hard against my chest as she tried to push me off.
“Ronny, let me go!” she hissed, twisting beneath me.
Her struggles were wild at first, sharp and furious, but I didn’t move. I held myself there, my arms caging her in, my face so close to hers I could feel the warmth of her uneven breath against my lips.
“Stop fighting me,” I growled, my patience slipping.
“I said get off me!” she spat, her eyes blazing.
Her defiance made something primal inside me snap. My lips crashed onto hers before I could think, before I could give myself a chance to regret it.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was rough, demanding, the kind of kiss that stole the fight out of her.
And it worked.
The second my mouth covered hers, her struggles stilled. Her hands that had been shoving at me froze on my chest. Her green eyes fluttered open in shock, then softened, hooded, almost dazed.
The sound that escaped her—half gasp, half whimper—went straight to my blood.
It was taking every ounce of strength I had not to tear her shirt off, not to take her right then and there, consequences be damned. But she had just come back from the hospital. She was still recovering, her body fragile, her skin still pale from the accident.
I couldn’t do it.
Not yet.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, my breath ragged. “Liliana,” I whispered, my voice breaking with the truth I didn’t want to say out loud. “I hate it when someone tests me.”
Her lips trembled, her eyes flashing back to fire. “What more do you want from me, Ronny? You’re not even my boyfriend. You’re just being controlling.”
My jaw locked, my muscles turning to stone.
Not her boyfriend?
Those words cut deeper than any blade.
My eyes narrowed dangerously. “Say that again,” I warned, my voice low and sharp.
Her chin lifted stubbornly, her gaze stabbing mine. “Our relationship is fake. And besides… you were the one who said we should keep things professional.”
The corner of my mouth curved, but there was no humor in it. Only something darker. I laughed, the sound low and bitter. “Professional, huh?”
I pulled back, running my hand slowly through her red hair, tugging lightly at the ends until she gasped. My eyes drank her in—the anger in her glare, the heat in her cheeks, the defiance that made me want her even more.
“You know what?” I murmured, letting the darkness in me take over. “Fuck it.”
Before she could blink, I scooped her into my arms. She kicked, smacked her fists against my chest, her curses filling the room, but I didn’t stop. Her body weighed nothing in my arms, and her fight only made my blood sing louder.
“Put me down, Ronny!” she demanded, writhing against me.
“Not a chance,” I muttered, striding out of the guest room like I owned not just the house, but her too.
Her fists pounded against me, but I tightened my grip. My steps echoed down the hall as I carried her straight to my bedroom.
The second I crossed the threshold, I threw her onto the bed.
She bounced lightly against the mattress, her hair spreading like fire on the pillows. She shot me the deadliest look I’d ever seen and, just to stab me deeper, she raised her middle finger at me.
I barked a laugh, low and dark, shaking my head. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep tempting me and you won’t get any sleep tonight.”
She ignored me, huffing loudly before turning her back to me, curling on her side like a stubborn child refusing to give me the satisfaction of a response.
I stood there for a moment, watching her. The rise and fall of her shoulders. The way her hair spilled across her back. The way her body seemed both small and strong at the same time.
Every part of me screamed to climb into bed, to pull her against me, to claim her until she remembered she was mine whether she admitted it or not.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I dragged my eyes away, forced myself to cross the room, and sank into the couch by the window.
I grabbed my laptop, flipping it open, the screen’s glow spilling against my face. Work. I needed to focus on work.
But even as I forced my eyes to scan documents, my mind wouldn’t quiet.
Minutes later, I heard it.
Soft. Steady.
Her breathing, evening out.
Her snores.
I looked up from the screen and turned my head toward the bed.
There she was—fast asleep in my room, wrapped in my sheets, her lips slightly parted as if she was finally at peace.
A sound escaped me before I could stop it. A low chuckle.
The kind of sound that wasn’t amused at all but helpless.
I was helpless when it came to her.
Possessive. Obsessive. Mad.
And I didn’t even care anymore.
But as I watched her sleep, another thought clawed its way back to me, one that burned hotter than all the rest.
I still hadn’t found her mother’s killer.
It haunted me.
I was this close—so damn close. But there were too many names, too many shadows in the picture. Her father. Her stepmother. Every single one of them fit. Every single one had something to gain, something to hide.
I clenched my jaw, my fists tightening on the laptop.
But soon.
With the plan I had in mind, it was only a matter of time before the real killer walked straight into my trap.
And when they did…
They’d regret ever touching what was mine.
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