Chapter 7 - This Time, She Was Running Toward Him
One year later, Iris stood barefoot again.
But this time, the floor beneath her feet was warm.
She was in the kitchen of the small house she had bought with money she earned herself.
Her own business had started with one rented office and two clients.
Now she had eleven.
She helped restaurants manage suppliers and bookkeeping—a skill she had learned during years of working jobs Gregor had considered beneath her.
Apparently, being underestimated could become useful.
A knock came at the front door.
Iris opened it.
Ronan stood outside.
Black overcoat.
Dark suit.
Tattoo visible above his collar.
Exactly as intimidating as the night she met him.
Except he carried groceries.
“You’re late.”
“Traffic.”
“You own six cars.”
“None of them fly.”
“Poor planning.”
He kissed her forehead and entered.
Elias followed carrying another bag.
Iris frowned.
“Why is Elias here?”
Elias looked offended.
“I was invited.”
“By whom?”
“Me.”
Ronan removed his coat.
Iris narrowed her eyes.
Something was wrong.
“You’re both terrible liars.”
“We aren’t lying,” Ronan said.
“You’re behaving strangely.”
Elias immediately put the groceries down.
“I’m leaving.”
“Coward,” Ronan said.
“Professional survivor.”
The door closed behind him.
Iris crossed her arms.
“What is happening?”
Ronan stared at her.
For the first time since she had known him, Chicago’s feared Ronan Moretti appeared genuinely nervous.
That frightened her more than any enemy ever had.
“Ronan?”
He reached into his pocket.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
“Don’t say anything yet.”
“You’re giving orders during this?”
“I’m trying not to ruin it.”
“You’re doing wonderfully.”
“Iris.”
She smiled.
“Continue.”
He took out a small velvet box.
Then stopped.
“I had a speech.”
“What happened?”
“I forgot it.”
She laughed.
Ronan looked down at the box.
“When you ran into me that night, I thought you needed someone to protect you.”
Iris became still.
“I was wrong.”
He opened the box.
A simple diamond ring rested inside.
“You needed someone to give you enough room to discover you could protect yourself.”
Her eyes filled.
Ronan continued.
“I don’t want to own your future. I don’t want to decide it.”
He looked directly at her.
“I want to be invited into it.”
Iris covered her mouth.
“That was your forgotten speech?”
“Apparently I remembered parts.”
She laughed through her tears.
Ronan lowered himself onto one knee.
“Iris Istvan, will you marry me?”
She stared at him.
A year ago, Gregor had made every important decision for her.
Where she lived.
Who she spoke to.
What she wore.
How late she stayed out.
Even fear had become something he chose for her.
Now the most powerful man she knew was kneeling in her kitchen and waiting for an answer he had no intention of controlling.
Iris stepped closer.
“Yes.”
Ronan exhaled.
“But,” she added.
His eyes narrowed.
“There’s a but?”
“There’s always a but.”
He stood.
“What?”
“I keep my apartment until after the wedding.”
“Fine.”
“My business stays mine.”
“Obviously.”
“And Elias chooses the cake.”
Ronan looked horrified.
“Absolutely not.”
The front door suddenly opened.
Elias leaned inside.
“I heard that.”
Iris burst out laughing.
Ronan pointed toward the hallway.
“Get out.”
“I vote chocolate.”
“Out.”
Elias disappeared.
Ronan slid the ring onto Iris’s finger.
She looked at it.
Then at him.
“You know something strange?”
“What?”
“The night we met, I thought I was running into your arms because you looked dangerous.”
“You did.”
“No.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I ran to you because you looked like someone my father would fear.”
Ronan rested his hands lightly at her waist.
“And now?”
Iris smiled.
“Now I stay because you’re the first man who never asked me to be afraid.”
He kissed her.
Months later, their wedding was small.
No political guests.
No grand ballroom full of people Ronan barely knew.
Just friends, a few trusted members of his family, and Elias complaining that nobody had respected his cake recommendation.
Gregor was not there.
Iris had chosen not to invite him.
But that morning, a letter arrived.
It contained only three handwritten lines.
I spent your childhood teaching you to fear the world.
You proved you were stronger than the world I built around you.
Be happy, Iris.
She folded the letter.
Ronan stood behind her.
“You want a minute?”
Iris shook her head.
“No.”
She placed the letter inside a drawer.
Not destroyed.
Not displayed.
Simply put away.
The past existed.
It just didn’t control the room anymore.
Ronan offered his hand.
“Ready?”
Iris looked toward the garden where everyone waited.
Then she kicked off her shoes.
Ronan stared down.
“Seriously?”
“I met you barefoot.”
“That was an emergency.”
“It worked.”
He laughed.
Iris took his hand and walked outside.
A year earlier, she had crossed a freezing Chicago street barefoot because she was running for her life.
Today, she was barefoot again.
But she wasn’t running away from anyone.
She was walking toward the life she had chosen.
And when Ronan’s fingers closed gently around hers, Iris knew the most important part had never been that Chicago’s most feared mafia boss had saved her.
May you like
It was that when she finally learned how to save herself—
**he loved her enough to let her
