Ronan released a frustrated growl, said something to Albert, and then followed me. “You’re narcissistic I don’t just kidnap you again.” “I’m preparing my fake screams and, ‘No, please don’t!’ as we speak.” He laughed. “I’m more concerned about what our children are going to inherit from you than your mother.” “You really want kids?” I asked. He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Da.” “Lots of them?” “However many you want.” I raised a brow. “I want a whole houseful.” “I can take your IUD out in this alley, and we can get started right now.” I pretended to think about it. “Tempting. But I’m going to leave that to the professionals.” I cocked my head. “And I thought you were ‘saving yourself for marriage’ ?” He cast me an intense, thoughtful look, but didn’t respond. I frowned at him, not understanding his behavior since the flight. Maybe he really had lost his mind. I stopped to peer through a store window. It was a handmade boutique, and all the colors inside beckoned me. “Hey, Ronan?” “Yes, Mila?” “I want to go in there.” He chuckled. “Is this a trauma-induced statement?” I turned to face him. “I just don’t want you to get bored while I go shopping.” “You’re enough entertainment for me alone. It’s like watching a circus.” I shoved his chest playfully and drifted into the store. The retailer and owner was a knowledgeable Indian woman who wasn’t shy about telling me what would or wouldn’t look good on me. Ronan even shook his head with her when I came out of the dressing room in a peachcolored dress. I bought three bags of dresses, shoes, and handmade jewelry. A long argument ensued at the cash register, which the owner found highly amusing. Ronan forced a black credit card on me. I may love him, but I didn’t want to spend his dirty money. In the end, he won—only because he told me I could donate all my earnings from modeling to save baby