Page 106 of Override

Ronan glances up from where he's fastening his watch. "Two days."

My shoulders immediately relax. Only two. The movement doesn't escape his notice. His gaze lingers on me for a second. Long enough that I suddenly wish I'd hidden my reaction.

"I'll be back before you know it." A smile touches his mouth. It should feel reassuring. Instead, it feels like an observation. Like he noticed I was relieved. I look away first. The room falls quiet again.

A few months ago, that silence wouldn't have bothered me. Now it stretches between us constantly. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

Ronan slips his wallet into the inside pocket of his jacket before turning toward me.

His expression shifts immediately. Business. Controlled. The version of him the rest of the world sees.

"While I'm gone, I want you to stay here."

My brow furrows. "Here?"

"The estate." The answer comes immediately. Like he already knew he was going to have to clarify.

Something inside me tightens. "Ronan—"

"Maeve." The warning in my name stops me. Not because it's loud. Because it isn't. His voice remains perfectly calm. That somehow makes it worse. "I mean it."

I fold my arms across my chest. A small act of defiance. One he notices. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

A lie. Not a huge one. But a lie nonetheless. I've spent the last two days wondering if I should text my father. Whether I could convince him to meet me for coffee. Whether it would be worth another argument.

Ronan steps closer. "Good."

The single word lands wrong. Like approval. Like permission. I hate how much that bothers me.

"Why?" The question leaves before I can stop it.

His expression shifts. Just slightly. Enough that I notice. "Why what?"

"Why can't I leave?"

His jaw tightens. Only for a second. Then it's gone. "There are things happening right now that don't concern you."

The answer immediately irritates me. Mostly because it isn't actually an answer.

"I'm your wife."

His eyes meet mine. "Exactly."

The word hangs heavily between us. I stare at him. Waiting.

Finally I ask the question that's been sitting in the back of my mind for weeks.

"Am I in danger?"

For the first time all morning, Ronan looks surprised. Not offended. Not angry. Surprised. The reaction alone makes my stomach tighten. Because if the answer is no, shouldn't that have been immediate?

Ronan reaches for me. His hand settling lightly against my jaw. I freeze. The gesture should feel affectionate. Instead it feels strangely calculated. Like he's trying to soothe me. "You worry too much."

I pull slightly away. "Then answer me."

Something flashes behind his eyes. Gone before I can identify it. Then he sighs. Softly. Almost tired. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

The words settle somewhere deep inside my chest. Because they sound sincere. Painfully sincere. Like he means them. And that's the problem: for one brief moment, I almost believe him. Almost convince myself that everything is about protection.