Page 40 of Override

Danger. That’s the first place my mind goes. Not because Ronan says it directly. Because men in our world don’t increase security for no reason. Right?

Maybe there really is a threat. Maybe he really is trying to protect me.

The The thought arrives, and I cling to it, fast. It feels better than the alternative.

Ronan releases my chin and steps back smoothly like the conversation is settled now. Like I’ll obey him because he said so.

“I’ll call if I’m coming home earlier than expected,” he says while reaching for his keys. “Eat dinner without me.”

Then he leaves. Just like that.

The front door shuts heavily somewhere down the hall while silence settles back through the room.

I sit there for several seconds staring at the empty doorway after he’s gone, trying unsuccessfully to untangle the strange tightness sitting beneath my ribs.

Because if Ronan is worried enough to lock the house down, maybe I should feel grateful instead of upset.

Protection. That word again. Everything always circles back to protection eventually.

The thought follows me quietly into the kitchen twenty minutes later.

And stops there.

Because sitting on the marble island where my breakfast usually waits—is a plate of egg whites, sliced fruit, and black coffee.

I stare at it. No oatmeal. No blueberries. No French vanilla creamer.

The exact same breakfast that’s appeared every morning since the fundraiser.

Something twists low in my stomach.

The chef glances up nervously from near the stove. “Mr. Gallagher updated your meal plan, ma’am.”

Of course he did. I look down at the black coffee again.

I hate black coffee.

Ronan knows I hate black coffee.

For one brief irrational second, tears sting unexpectedly behind my eyes and I have absolutely no idea why.

It’s coffee. That’s all. Not cruelty. Not punishment. Not abuse. Just healthier choices.

The fundraiser flashes briefly through my mind anyway.

You’ve looked a little heavier lately.

Heat crawls up my neck. Maybe he’s worried about my health. Maybe he’s trying to help.

The thought sounds weak even inside my own head now. Maybe he's right. Maybe if I'd listened the first time...He wouldn't have needed to embarrass me at the fundraiser. The thought lands so naturally that I don't even question it anymore.

Still…

I sit down at the island and pick up the coffee anyway.

Because Ronan cares about appearances. About discipline. About maintaining control over things most people let slip.

That doesn’t make him cruel. It makes him demanding. And demanding men built empires every day in our world.