it for me to know he wasn’t happy I gave my coat away. I had a feeling it didn’t have anything to do with the money but something else entirely. “Pm sorry.” I swallowed. “About the coat.” His gaze met mine, searching and thoughtful, the weight of it stunning my body with a nervous energy. “You’re big on apologies.” I opened my mouth to say something, but, consumed by this man’s quiet disapproval that rivaled my papa’s, what came out was, “Sorry.” “Don’t be,” he said. “You shouldn’t give a fuck about what other people think. Trust me, they don’t care about you.” For some reason, his words felt like a warning. He was a conundrum dressed in Valentino with “fuck” on his lips .. . I didn’t know why I found the contrast attractive. Maybe the novelty and honesty of it. “That’s a very pessimistic view.” He fought a smile like what I said was cute. “It’s a realist’s view.” It felt like I needed to prove him wrong, to convince him not everyone was out to get him. I may not believe in magical happily ever afters, but I’d seen goodness in its purest forms. I’d seen a man give the shirt off his back to someone who needed it more. I’d seen mothers walk miles to make sure their children were fed. There was good in this world, and that was a hill I’d die on. “The boy in that picture in your office, I bet he cares about you.” There was something between them—two dirty, homeless boys on the street—that screamed loyalty. “And who cares about you?” I didn’t hesitate. “My papa.” I knew it was true. No matter the secrets he withheld from me and the anxieties of abandonment, I knew he loved me. Ronan found something unpleasant in my response. “You have a soft heart.” I didn’t say anything because, as annoying as it could sometimes be, it was true. “Don’t,” he said, as if I could simply change it. “The soft ones are easier to break.” I wondered who gave this man such a jaded view on life, who cast him out into the cold street. Whatever happened to him, he was still kind and generous, and I couldn’t help but find that incredibly attractive. “The soft ones are the most loyal,” I countered.