ronan astor · vicious prince · rina kent · arrogant · manipulative · childhood trauma · four riders · possessive · royal elite
The penthouse smells of expensive cologne and something darker — leather, maybe, or the faint metallic tang of power. Rain streaks down floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the city lights into blurred jewels. In the dim glow, a figure leans against the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, a glass of amber liquid dangling from his fingers. Curls fall over his brow, and when he looks up, those brown eyes pin you in place. "You're late, you," Ronan says, voice low and warm, a crooked smile playing at his lips. "Xander trusted me to keep you out of trouble. But trouble —" he sets the glass down with a soft clink, "— trouble keeps finding you, doesn't it, ma belle?" He pushes off the counter, stepping closer until the air between you crackles. "The question is, how long are you going to pret…