Chapter 2 2

Lauren

New York had a rhythm- a pulse- that I hadn't quite figured out how to match. Every morning, the city seemed to wake with purpose, rushing headlong into itself while I lingered behind like an outsider. It was only my first week in the Pitts mansion, but it already felt like I was living in a snow globe: beautiful, distant, and untouchable.

Most mornings, I woke up too early, thanks to the shift in time zones and the unfamiliar comfort of silk sheets. My body missed the scratchy cotton of my old bed, the hum of my tiny fan, the morning chaos of campus life.

Now, I had silence. The kind that echoed.

And Ronan.

He was everywhere and nowhere. We passed each other in hallways, shared the occasional breakfast in tense silence, and once-just once-I caught him watching me from the second-floor balcony as I wandered the garden paths below. He disappeared when I looked up. Like a ghost.

I told myself to ignore it.

Ignore him.

But it was impossible to forget the way he played the piano that night. How his music had pulled something from inside me, something raw and aching. It was also impossible to forget what he said.

"You're not my sister. Not really."

Those words played in my head more than they should have.

The weekend arrived faster than I expected. Gregory, my new stepfather, announced over breakfast that he and my mom would be flying out to Connecticut for a charity retreat.

"You'll have the house to yourselves," my mom said, giving me a hopeful smile. "Maybe some time alone will help you two bond."

I glanced at Ronan across the table. He was sipping his coffee, unreadable.

"Sure," I said flatly. "We'll braid each other's hair and talk about our feelings."

Ronan actually smirked at that. It was small, but it was real.

By the time they left that afternoon, the house was too quiet. I wandered through the halls, trying to find something to do, eventually settling in the media room with a bowl of popcorn and a stack of movies. Halfway through a terrible rom-com, Ronan appeared in the doorway.

"You really watch this stuff?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"It's called escapism," I said. "You should try it sometime."

To my surprise, he walked in and dropped onto the opposite end of the couch. We watched the movie in near silence, except for the occasional eye roll he gave during the most cliché parts. When it ended, he didn't leave.

Instead, he looked at me and said, "Wanna see something?"

That's how I found myself in the garage beneath the house, staring at a row of classic cars. Ronan walked to a sleek, silver Jaguar and tossed me the keys.

"You drive?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. "But not, like... this."

"Time to learn."

We spent the next two hours on an empty private road that wound through the edge of the Pitts estate. I drove too slow. He mocked me. I stalled once, and he groaned dramatically. But by the end, I was laughing. Really laughing... And he was smiling.

For a few hours, the tension cracked. Back at the house, we sat on the hood of the car, watching the sunset bleed over the city skyline. The air between us was lighter, easier.

"You're different from the girls I usually meet," he said suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow. "That's supposed to be a compliment?"

"It is." He looked at me then, really looked. "They usually want something. You don't."

I shrugged. "I'm too busy trying to figure out who I am to care about impressing you."

"That's what makes you dangerous."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't.

Later that night, I couldn't sleep.

I tossed in bed, restless, until I found myself back in the music room. I sat at the piano, running my fingers over the keys. Not playing. Just feeling.

"You always wander the house at 2 a.m.?"

Ronan's voice made me jump. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Couldn't sleep," I said. "Too quiet."

He walked in, his presence filling the room without effort. "Play something."

"I told you-I'm not that good."

"Doesn't matter. I want to hear it."

So I played. A soft, clumsy melody that I half-remembered from childhood. My fingers stumbled, but I kept going.

When I finished, I looked up. He was closer now. Watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve.

"I'm trying to hate you," he said quietly.

My breath caught. "Why?"

"Because if I don't... this gets messy."

The silence stretched between us like a string pulled too tight.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

Then turned and left without another word.

That night, I lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, Ronan's words echoing in my mind.

"I'm trying to hate you."

I should've felt angry. Insulted.

But all I felt... was drawn in.

And I knew- no matter how hard I tried-this story was no longer mine alone.

It was his too.

Ours.

And we were dangerously close to writing a chapter neither of us could erase.

The next day was colder than expected for late spring, the kind of damp, crisp air that hung in the morning like a promise. I woke early, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, and after a restless night, I figured I could use the extra hours to clear my head.

I found myself in the kitchen, staring at the massive island as I tried to figure out what to do with the silence. It felt... wrong. In the chaos of everything that had happened, the mansion felt like an empty shell. The smell of freshly brewed coffee didn't help- it just made me more aware of how out of place I was.

I was halfway through making some coffee when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Morning," Ronan said, his voice still thick with sleep, his hair messy from just waking up.

"Morning," I mumbled, trying to hide the nerves rising in my chest.

He glanced over at the counter. "I see you're making breakfast. Wouldn't want to starve."

"Don't worry, I'm fine," I said with a small laugh, trying to brush off the awkwardness that hung in the air between us.

He raised an eyebrow and walked to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "You should know by now I don't really trust anyone to handle my food," he said with a smirk. His casual arrogance was back in full force.

"Right," I said, a little surprised at his sudden interest in being so... blunt.

I didn't say anything more. What could I say? We were supposed to be family, but it still felt like I didn't know him at all, and he probably didn't care to get to know me either.

But then again, maybe that was exactly what he wanted-to keep me at arm's length. To remain distant.

I went to grab my coffee, trying to find something to do to keep the tension from becoming unbearable. I needed space, time to adjust, but I wasn't sure if I would get that here. Especially not with Ronan.

After a few minutes of silence, he pushed off from the counter, picked up his keys from the countertop, and nodded toward the door.

"I'm heading out. Don't get yourself into trouble while I'm gone."

I watched as he left through the side door leading to the garage, his footsteps echoing on the marble floors. I stood still, processing his words.

I didn't know what he meant, and part of me didn't care. Still, something about the way he said it stuck with me. I wasn't sure if it was a warning or if he was simply trying to get under my skin. Either way, I was left standing alone in the kitchen, unsure of where to go from here.

Later that afternoon, after another hour of trying to unpack the mess of emotions swirling in my head, I decided to go for a walk. I needed to escape the silence of the mansion for a while, and the gardens outside were the perfect place.

The sky was still a soft gray, the faintest hint of rain in the air. The winding paths of the garden were surrounded by thick hedges and tall trees. I wandered aimlessly, letting the fresh air wash over me, trying to forget about the way Ronan had looked at me this morning.

Then, from somewhere behind me, I heard a familiar voice.

"Lauren."

I turned quickly, already half-expecting to see him. Ronan stood there, arms crossed, his eyes scanning me with that unreadable expression.

"I didn't think you'd actually leave the house," he said, sounding almost like he was teasing me.

I shot him a pointed look. "I need some fresh air. Not everyone spends their entire day cooped up inside."

He took a few slow steps toward me. "Some of us actually enjoy the quiet."

I wasn't sure why his words stung, but they did. I didn't know if it was because I didn't feel quiet in this house, or if it was because Ronan made it feel like I didn't belong here.

"I'm fine," I said, hoping to sound more confident than I felt.

He looked at me for a long time, as if he were deciding something, then finally sighed and sat down on a stone bench nearby.

"You can't keep pretending you're okay," he said, almost as if he were talking to himself. "Not here. Not in this family."

The words hit me like a cold wave, and I could feel the weight of them settle deep in my chest. What did he mean by that?

Before I could respond, Ronan continued, his voice softer. "I know what it's like to feel out of place. Like you're walking around in someone else's life. But you can't change that. You just have to... deal with it."

His gaze was distant, almost lost, and I wondered for a moment if his words were meant for me or if they were some sort of confession about himself.

"You don't get it," I said, taking a step closer. "You don't know how it feels to suddenly be dropped into this life. To not have a choice about any of it. This whole place, this mansion, this family- it's all so... foreign to me. And no matter how many walls I put up, no matter how much I try to ignore it, I'm still the outsider."

Ronan's eyes flickered. He didn't seem bothered by my words, though. He just studied me like a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"You're not the outsider. You're just new. We all were at some point," he said, voice even. "But you have to find your own place here. You can't expect anyone to just hand it to you."

"Great advice," I muttered, trying not to sound defeated.

He didn't react to my sarcasm, just gave me a small, knowing smile before standing up.

"Anyway, I've got stuff to do. But don't think you can keep hiding in the garden every time things get tough."

I didn't respond as he walked away, but his words lingered in the air long after he was gone.

By the time evening rolled around, I was still feeling restless, caught between wanting to keep my distance and the undeniable pull that Ronan had on me. I didn't understand it-how someone who had seemed so distant could somehow make me feel like I was always just a step behind him, waiting for something to happen.

I had to admit, I didn't know how to handle this... this thing between us. Something was shifting, and I couldn't tell if it was a storm on the horizon or the first inkling of something much worse. But deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before everything exploded.

- - -

The next few days blurred together. I spent most of my time in the garden or tucked away in my room, trying to adjust to this strange, new life. I felt like a ghost in a house that wasn't mine, moving through rooms and hallways like I didn't belong. Ronan kept his distance, barely acknowledging my presence unless it was absolutely necessary. The tension between us was always thick, like there was some unspoken thing we both refused to acknowledge.

Despite the cold reception, there were moments-moments when Ronan's eyes would linger just a little too long, or his words would come with an unexpected edge. I could feel it, like static in the air, but I couldn't quite figure out what it meant. I wasn't sure if I was reading too much into it, or if he was doing it on purpose.

I had always heard the rumors about Ronan. Rich, charming, untouchable. He was exactly the kind of guy people whispered about behind closed doors. But none of those stories prepared me for the real thing. His charm wasn't the kind you'd find in a fairytale-it was darker, more complicated. And the way he looked at me... it was like he could see right through me.

One afternoon, I found myself standing in the kitchen again, staring at the counter, the emptiness of the house stretching out around me. It was just after lunch, and the house was eerily quiet. I hadn't seen Ronan for hours, but I knew he was around somewhere. The house had a way of swallowing people whole.

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and was about to pour myself some water when I heard footsteps.

"You still here?" Ronan's voice was softer than usual, but still laced with that detached edge. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "I'm still here."

He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes scanning the empty space. "Haven't left yet?"

I shrugged, not sure how to respond. "Where would I go?"

The corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Good point ."

I was beginning to feel the weight of his gaze again, like he was studying me, weighing something in his mind. It made me uneasy, but I didn't want to be the first to break the silence.

"I was thinking of going into the city tomorrow," I said suddenly, trying to change the subject. "I don't know... just see the sights, get out of here for a bit."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped farther into the room, moving with that effortless grace he always had. "You think the city will make you feel less... out of place?"

I looked up at him, surprised by the question. He had a way of making everything sound like a challenge, even when it wasn't. "Maybe. It's worth a try."

Ronan didn't say anything else, but I could tell he was mulling it over. There was a strange, almost brooding quality to him, like he was always two steps ahead, always thinking about something he wouldn't share.

"Maybe I'll come with you," he said finally.

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him right. "What?"

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "It's better than sitting around here all day. And I don't trust you to go into the city alone."

I didn't know whether to feel flattered or irritated. Ronan had this way of being possessive without even trying, like he had a claim over everything and everyone in his life-even me, despite the fact that we weren't even really family.

"Fine," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "But don't expect me to hold your hand."

Ronan smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

---

The next day, we drove into the city together. The car ride was quieter than I expected, the kind of silence that didn't feel peaceful but suffocating. Ronan didn't talk much, his focus on the road in front of him, but I could feel his eyes flicking to me occasionally, like he was measuring me.

When we finally reached the heart of the city, the chaos of New York swallowed us whole. The streets were packed with people, honking cars, and the unmistakable hum of a place that never slept. The contrast between the mansion and the city was jarring, like night and day.

Ronan parked the car in a garage and led me out onto the busy street, his long strides keeping me in step with him. He didn't look at me as we walked, but I could feel the weight of his presence beside me. There was something about the way he carried himself, like he owned every part of this city, every corner of it.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to break the tension.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled his sunglasses down and glanced over at me, his eyes flickering with something- something I couldn't quite read.

"Follow me," he said simply.

I had no choice but to do just that, following him through the crowds as he led me through the maze of streets, past trendy cafes and high-end boutiques. It felt like I was walking through a different world, one where I didn't belong.

Finally, we stopped in front of a sleek, glass building. The sign above the entrance read "Pitts Enterprises"- Ronan's family business, I assumed.

"We're here," he said, his voice low.

"Here? You want me to go into your office building?" I asked, skeptical.

Ronan glanced at me, an almost imperceptible smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Why not? You're already part of this world now."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be part of *your* world," I muttered under my breath.

He heard me, though. "It's not a choice, Lauren. You're here. Whether you like it or not."

I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of frustration and something else, something deeper. I didn't want to be dragged into this world, into Ronan's world. But I had no choice. It was too late to turn back now.

---

The day passed in a blur. We walked through downtown, and while I tried to enjoy the city, I couldn't shake the feeling that Ronan was studying me the whole time. His presence was like a shadow, always there, always just out of reach.

By the time we returned to the mansion, the sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow across the estate. But instead of feeling relief, I felt a sense of unease settle deep in my bones.

"Thanks for the trip," I said, not sure what else to say as we stood by the car. "I guess it wasn't as bad as I thought."

Ronan just nodded, his face unreadable. "I'll see you inside."

He turned and walked away without another word, leaving me standing there, staring after him, wondering what was going on in his mind. And more than that, wondering why I couldn't seem to get him out of mine.

---