What do you mean?
As they broke apart for air, Ronan chuckled nervously.
"I'm a bit clumsy at this,"
Maeve smiled, brushing off his statement. "Don't worry, you're doing just fine." His fingers danced down her spine, sending shivers through her body. It's been damn too long. She thought. The air thickened with anticipation.
"Your body is so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky. Maeve's grip tightened. Her impatience ran a thin line.
Maeve's fingers traced Ronan's jawline, her touch electrifying. His eyes fluttered open, locked onto hers, burning with desire. "Relax," she whispered, her breath whispering against his skin. The word caressed his ear, sending shivers down his spine.
Ronan's muscles unwound, surrendering to her touch. Maeve's hands explored his body, caressing every curve and every contour. Her lips followed, leaving trails of fire on his skin.
The room melted away, leaving only the soft rustle of sheets, the gentle creak of the bed, and the synchronised beat of their hearts.
Ronan's moans deepened, his hips arching toward hers. Maeve's fingers intertwined with his, guiding him through the swirling sensations. Their bodies entwined, moving in perfect harmony. Sweat-kissed skin slid against the skin, the friction building.
The world narrowed to the delicate dance of their bodies, the sensual symphony of pleasure.
Ronan's gasps grew ragged, his fingers digging into Maeve's skin. "álainn..."
"Mmmm," she breathed, her voice husky. Maeve's climax shattered him, her body trembling. Maeve's smile was radiant. Their lips met, soft and passive, savouring the afterglow.
The next morning, Ronan walked Maeve to her favorite café, hand in hand. The sunlight danced across her face, illuminating her radiant smile—the occasional stare into each other's eyes.
"You didn't have to walk me here, but I appreciate it." She said to him.
"It was my pleasure. How about coffee tomorrow?" he suggested. Maeve flushed, her cheeks warm. She pushed her hair behind her ears, giving him a sheepish grin. The whole moment had been satisfactory. All she had to do was lock him in. She leaned into him, grabbing his vest almost suddenly and planting a deep kiss on his lips.
"1:00 pm sharp," she answered and then walked into the cafe.
Up at the Grande a la Vista Hotel, Christian gazed hardened as he watched them out from his penthouse window. His jaw clenched. Maeve, accompanied by a stranger, laughed and leaned into his touch.
Christian's eyes narrowed. Who was this man?
His coffee from that morning tasted different, so he guessed she wasn't the one who made it. He assumed she had been occupied that morning. Hence, her absence from their agreement.
Christian's mind raced. What was she doing with him? He had hardly seen any man come for her specifically until then; his eyes widened, a recollection of what his men had told him. Occasional untraceable payments from a hidden person. Could it be him? He wondered. He dialled his assistant. "Find out everything about Ronan, the man with Maeve," Christian demanded.
"Yes, sir," came the prompt response.
Christian's gaze lingered on Maeve and Ronan, his thoughts swirling with unease.
At the cafe, Ronan had left, and Maeve was greeted immediately by the expectant gaze from Rachel. Rachel practically squealed her way into a tight embrace. "I'm guessing it went well with that exotic smile on your face."
Maeve matched her vibrant smile, saying nothing else, which only heightened the excitement within Rachel. "I'm so happy. You're like one of those lucky ones who gets the first date with an app on their first try." Rachel said.
Christian's phone buzzed. His assistant's voice was efficient. "Ronan Murphy, an Irish farmer, visiting the city. He seems to have come for an event and permanently resides in the countryside, his home town."
Christian's grip on his phone tightened. "And you're sure the name on him is correct. He isn't under some guise and playing off as someone else," he asked intently because he assumed otherwise. "No, sir, none that I have come across."
"Keep digging," Christian ordered. There had to be something she was up to; he could sense it.
Meanwhile, the next day, as planned, Maeve sipped coffee with Ronan, her laughter genuine. For the first time in months, she felt free. If only the days could be like this. She wished deep within her heart.
Maeve had met up with Ronan, her grin from ear to ear. When she saw him at the meet-up spot, she skipped to his side, beaming.
His expression was dull. Ronan looked at her bewildered; his face was as pale as a ghost. She reached out to him, hoping to coax him for what was wrong, but he flinched, withdrawing away from her. She looked puzzled and deeply confused by his sudden change of character.
They were just fine the other day, so what happened?
"Ronan, what happened? Talk to me," Maeve asked, worried. She could feel him slipping away; her anxiety rose with every scornful gaze.
"Please just stay away from me. I don't want to ever see you again. You hear me." He shook his head as if trying to wake up from a delirium before he walked away and left her alone on the sidewalk.
Maeve was heartbroken as she went to the cafe. Her early evening rendezvous had come to an abrupt end.
"You're back so early. Did you leave anything behind?" Rachel asked with a furrowed brow.
"He cancelled," she said, then went to change into the cafe uniform. Rachel wore a confused expression but decided not to ask further. Maeve could wonder what exactly happened. The distant assumption she didn't want to comprehend that could be possible.
Was her family behind this? Her gaze steeled at the thought, a deep frown stretching across her face.
Her phone buzzed at that moment, taking her thoughts away from the realisation. A text, short but precise.
'Someone has been tracking me,' it said, and her breath held pause at the text. Her phone buzzed once more. 'you'll have to come alone tonight.'