The Contracted Ever After (Cordelia and Ronan)

Chapter 527

Cordelia suddenly felt small compared to Ronan, insignificant. What was the point of being on the

board of directors if she was just going to be spun around by Ronan's whims? Her education seemed

worthless now. She lacked Ronan's reckless bravery, his willingness to throw caution to the wind. In

comparison, she felt like she had nothing.

The topic of conversation shifted away from Brenda and Jordan.

Ronan lit up a cigarette, squinting through the smoke as he spoke, "A woman like you, who can let go

of everything, is a rare find in this world."

He was likely fixating on Cordelia's time spent in the UK, where she had studied for three years. It

nagged at him.

"I..." Cordelia found herself speechless. "We were talking about Jordan. Why bring me into this?"

"Mom, you're not leaving, right?" Callum had entered the room.

"No, honey, I’m not going anywhere. I'll stay with you," Cordelia said with a gentle pinch to her son's

cheek.

"You're the best, Mom. Let's go out to eat," Callum urged, pulling her toward the door. "Janice said

she's not feeling well and won't be joining us for dinner." NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

Cordelia wondered if Janice was upset because Harold had enlisted and was away, or if she simply

didn't want to see Cordelia, given that the whole mess had been stirred up by her.

Cordelia had lost her appetite, and after dinner, Callum retreated to his room. When she tried to follow

him, she found the door locked.

"Callum, what's this about? Why won't you let me in?" she asked, knocking.

"Nope! I'm a big boy now. I can't sleep with you anymore. You should go sleep with Daddy and work on

your relationship," Callum's childish voice responded from inside.

Cordelia stood awkwardly in the hallway.

"Come to bed," Ronan said nonchalantly from the couch, his attention seemingly absorbed by a book.

"We've been through this dance before. Why the act? Callum's given you an out. Why not take it?"

"I..." Cordelia normally prided herself on her wit, but around Ronan, she couldn't seem to muster a

rebuttal.

Maybe it was the heavy snowfall that day, or perhaps it was the chill lingering after her shower, but

Cordelia felt cold and decided to crawl into bed.

Soon after, Ronan joined her, propped up against the headboard. "Turn off the light," she murmured

sleepily, her resolve crumbling in the wake of her unguarded feelings for him. Without quite knowing

why—perhaps it was the cold, or maybe the conversation that afternoon with Victoria had sparked

something—she snuggled into Ronan's warmth.

He watched her for a moment before snapping off the light. Then, as he had countless times before, he

pressed his body against hers, and his kisses fell densely upon her skin. He hadn't had his fill that

afternoon.

Cordelia's resistance faltered, then faded into eager reciprocation. She despised her own weakness,

and even more, she despised Ronan for it.

With clenched fists, she wanted to strike him, to push him away, but her hand was caught once more,

and his embrace deepened.

She thought bitterly. If she was going to be foolish, she might as well go all the way.

"And this time?" he asked afterward, his voice heavy with insinuation.

"What?"

"Can I keep you?" His tone was playful, a challenge.

"That depends on your skills," she retorted.

"Shouldn't it depend on yours?" He shot back.

In the darkness, Cordelia could hear the intimate sounds of his voice and the subtle movements of his

lips. It was all too suggestive, too intimate. She was caught in a web of her own making, and, for better

or worse, she no longer wanted to escape.