[COMPLETED] The Bruise Beneath Her Makeup Became His Most Dangerous War

Ronan’s gaze stayed on Sadie’s face until the room seemed to narrow around them.

“Look at me,” he repeated, but the command was quieter now.

Sadie lifted her eyes because disobedience had been trained out of her long before she entered the Obsidian Room. Her instinct expected anger, humiliation, maybe a demand that she explain the spilled scotch. Instead, Ronan studied the exposed edge of the bruise with a stillness that frightened her more than shouting would have.

“Who did that?”

“No one.”

Leo gave a humorless laugh from the table. Ronan did not look at him.

“Leave,” Ronan said.

Sadie’s stomach dropped. Losing the shift meant losing the final two hundred dollars. “Mr. Hayes, I can clean this. I’ll pay for the bottle if Thomas takes it out of my wages.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you.”

The three men around the table went silent. Ronan closed the ledger, slid it into a leather folder, and nodded toward the door. Leo opened his mouth, apparently reconsidered, and stood. Within seconds, the Obsidian Room held only Ronan, Sadie, and the bodyguard stationed outside the open door.

Ronan leaned back rather than closer. “You are not in trouble.”

Sadie almost laughed. Men said things like that when trouble had already arrived.

“I need to work.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

His eyes moved to the way she guarded her left side. “I know someone hit you hard enough that breathing hurts. I know loud movements make you protect your head before you think. I know you covered fingerprints on your throat with that collar.”

Her hand flew to her neck.

Ronan’s jaw tightened. “And I know you are more afraid of losing this job than of standing in a locked room with men whose names make people cross streets.”

That landed too close to the truth.

Sadie straightened. “I fell.”

“Into a fist?”

Her face burned.

The door opened behind her. Thomas stepped in, pale and sweating. “Mr. Hayes, I am so sorry. I’ll replace the server immediately.”

Sadie saw the glance he gave her bruise. It lasted less than a second, but Ronan caught it.

“You’ve seen her like this before,” Ronan said.

Thomas swallowed. “Staff come in with all kinds of personal issues. I don’t pry.”

“Convenient philosophy.”

Thomas forced a laugh. “Sadie is reliable. Whatever happens outside work is—”

“Not your concern?” Ronan’s voice remained mild. “It became my concern when she nearly collapsed at my table.”

Sadie wanted to disappear through the floor. “Please. Stop.”

Both men looked at her.

She hated that tears had begun pressing behind her eyes. “I don’t need a scene. I need my shift.”

Ronan stood. He was taller than she had realized, and every muscle in her body tightened. He noticed. Instead of approaching, he walked to the sideboard and poured a glass of water.

“Sit down if you choose,” he said. “Or stand. The door stays open.”

That last sentence startled her.

He placed the water on the table within reach but did not hand it to her.

“I have a doctor who can examine your ribs discreetly,” he continued. “A woman. She does not work for me. She will not ask questions you don’t want to answer.”

Sadie stared at the glass.

“I can’t pay.”

“No payment.”

“Nothing is free.”

Something flickered across Ronan’s face, old and bitter. “You’re right. So call it a debt owed to someone else.”

Before Sadie could ask what that meant, a metallic crack sounded from the service corridor. Everyone turned.

One of Ronan’s guards appeared holding the silver tray Sadie had carried in. He had pried loose the felt lining beneath it. Between his fingers sat a device no larger than a shirt button.

A microphone.

Thomas went white.

Sadie stopped breathing.

Ronan’s eyes shifted from the bug to Thomas, then to her.

“I didn’t know,” Sadie whispered.

Thomas backed toward the door. “Those trays come from storage. Anyone could have—”

The guard seized him before he made it two steps.

Sadie’s panic exploded. “I didn’t know!”

Ronan crossed half the room and stopped when she flinched.

“I believe you.”

“How can you?”

“Because whoever planted that expected you to be invisible.”

Thomas began protesting as the guard dragged him into the corridor. Ronan ignored him and looked at the cracked makeup along Sadie’s cheek.

“Someone used your shift to listen to my meeting,” he said. “And someone at this restaurant knew exactly which tray you would carry.”

Sadie’s knees weakened.

Carl’s face flashed through her mind. The questions he had asked over breakfast. Which room are you working tonight? Who is booked downstairs? Why had she assumed his sudden interest was jealousy?

Ronan saw the answer before she spoke.

“Who?”

Sadie gripped the edge of the table.

“My boyfriend.”

Ronan’s expression became unreadable.

“What is his name?”

She hesitated only a second.

“Carl Jenkins.”

For the first time that night, Ronan Hayes looked genuinely surprised.