Chapter 3 - ENEMY LINES
I moved into the Callahan penthouse the next morning. It wasn't a request; Ronan had sent a black SUV and two men in tailored suits to pack my things before Finn could return to our shared apartment. The penthouse was a fortress of glass and steel, suspended high above Chicago. It smelled of cedar, expensive scotch, and him. That evening, Ronan found me standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city lights. "You don't have to tremble, Lara," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a different kind of shiver down my spine. "I'm not doing this just to punish him. I'm doing it because you deserve to be untouchable." He poured me a glass of whiskey, his knuckles grazing mine. For a fake arrangement, the heat radiating between us felt dangerously real.
