Chapter 173 Creepy Ronan

Chapter 173 Creepy Ronan
[Sera]

"I've been thinking," I said to Barrett that evening as I chopped vegetables for dinner. "Instead of giving that speech the president wants, what if I organized a charity sale? We could raise money for a general disaster relief fund."

Barrett looked up from his laptop at the kitchen island. "A charity sale?"

I nodded, sliding the diced peppers into a bowl. "I could sell some of those designer clothes and accessories I barely use anymore. Most of them I've only worn once or twice. And other students could donate their gently used items too. It would be perfect with my pregnancy making half my wardrobe unwearable anyway."

Barrett considered this for a moment. "It's not a bad idea. But you know the president specifically asked for you to speak."

"I know," I sighed, moving on to the onions. "But this would actually accomplish something concrete. Money for disaster victims instead of just... me talking about myself."

Barrett closed his laptop and came around the island. "Is that what's bothering you? You think sharing your experience is self-centered?"

"Kind of," I admitted. "Plus, I'm not comfortable with everyone staring at me. This way, the focus would be on the cause, not on me."

Barrett gently took the knife from my hand and set it down. "Your humility is admirable, Sera. But sometimes your story can inspire others to act. That said..." he squeezed my hands, "if a charity sale makes you more comfortable, I'll support it. And I'll make sure Titan Group matches whatever you raise, dollar for dollar."

I looked up at him, surprised. "Really?"

"Of course," he smiled. "Though I'm still assigning security. That love letter situation has me concerned."

I rolled my eyes but leaned into him. "Fine. But they better buy something at the sale."

Later that night, as Barrett worked in his office, I caught him on the phone with Jay, his voice hushed but intense.

"I want two plainclothes security personnel at the event," he was saying. "No, they shouldn't be obvious. Just make sure they're in position before she arrives."

"You're having me followed now?" I asked from the doorway.

Barrett looked up, not even slightly embarrassed at being caught. "Not followed. Protected. There's a difference."

"Because of one silly love letter?" I crossed the room to perch on his desk.

"That 'silly love letter' appeared in your bag without you noticing," he reminded me, his jaw tightening. "Someone got close enough to slip it in without your knowledge. That concerns me."

I wanted to argue but couldn't deny the logic. "Fine. But they stay discreet. I don't want to feel like I'm under surveillance."

Barrett nodded. "They'll be invisible. You won't even know they're there."

"I already know they're there because you just told me," I pointed out with a smirk.

He pulled me onto his lap with a soft chuckle. "Smartass."

---

The charity sale was set up in the main courtyard of Halloway University. Tables lined the perimeter, each displaying gently used designer clothes, barely worn shoes, and luxury accessories donated by students. My table featured several high-end dresses I'd only worn once or twice, along with designer handbags and shoes that no longer fit my pregnant frame.

"These items are selling like crazy," Wendy said, carefully wrapping a Burberry scarf for a customer. "We might run out before noon."

I smiled, grateful for the steady flow of visitors that kept me too busy to feel self-conscious. "The ninety percent discount from retail prices probably helped."

The event had been more successful than I'd anticipated. Fashion-conscious students, mostly young women, had turned out in impressive numbers for the chance to score luxury items at a fraction of retail price. A local news station had even sent a reporter, though I'd politely declined an on-camera interview, directing them to Jolin instead, who was much more comfortable with the attention.

"That Hermès silk scarf, please," came a familiar voice.

I looked up to see Ronan Thompson standing at our table, looking distinctly out of place among the crowd of female students. His ears had turned a noticeable shade of red, and he was tugging uncomfortably at his collar.

"This one?" I replied, keeping my voice neutral as I carefully folded the blue and gold patterned scarf.

"Yes," he said, his eyes darting around nervously before settling back on my face. When our gazes met, a flush spread from his neck to his cheeks. "It's... it's for my girlfriend."

Several nearby students glanced over with curious expressions. It wasn't every day you saw a Thompson man shopping for women's accessories at a university charity sale.

"Of course," I said, placing the scarf in a gift bag. "It's practically new. I only wore it once to an art gallery opening."

"I know," Ronan blurted out, then immediately reddened further. "I mean, I imagine it's... barely used."

He leaned slightly closer across the table, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Do you have any of those dresses you wore to the Thompson family dinners?"

The question sent a chill down my spine. There was something in his tone that crossed well beyond polite interest.

"Those aren't for sale," I replied firmly. "Anything else for your... girlfriend?"

"I'll take that Gucci handbag as well," he said, pointing to a cream-colored purse I'd used exactly twice. "She has similar taste to you."

As I wrapped the purse, I noticed his hands were slightly trembling when he handed over his credit card. "Your... style... is admirable," he murmured, his eyes never leaving my hands. "I've been... noticing it for some time."

Just as I was handing him his purchases, someone appeared at his side.

"There you are," said a woman with light brown hair, looping her arm through his. "I've been looking everywhere."