Ronan 

Two days.

Just two damn days of silence, and she was already clawing at my attention like a cat in heat. Calls. Texts. Even one pathetic voice note that ended with a huff and a slammed door. Lila was persistent like a storm, beautiful to watch from afar, but a disaster when it got too close.

I’d ignored them all.

Until now.

I sipped whiskey, leaning on the polished mahogany of the rooftop bar’s counter. Soft jazz filled the air, its rhythm slow, a lazy kind of seductive. One of the bar dancers, Sienna, a sharp-mouthed woman, was seated beside me, laughing at something I’d said. Her red lips...