Page 26 of Tainted Love

I bite my lip and look away, guilt gnawing at me because, in this, all three of us are culpable, but I don’t want to get the other girls into trouble. They really were just trying to be nice… it’s my own motives that weren’t quite so pure, and I have a feeling Ciaran knows it.

At my silence, Ciaran continues. “If you don’t want to get my sister into more trouble, then talk.”

I think it’s a bluff. Nothing Róisín has told me alluded to the fact that her brothers treat her with anything less than respect. But I can’t take that risk.

“L-Lyah was dressed up,” I stutter, feeling embarrassed by the whole, almost adolescent, escapade. Now I’m having to explain it, it sounds ridiculously immature. “She was kind of - you know…”

Ciaran cocks an eyebrow, his intense blue eyes boring into me. “No, I don’t know…” he says, prompting me. Making me spell it out for him. “That’s why you’re telling me. What was Lyah wearing?”

I flutter my hands up and down my body as if that will help. “Well, it was kind of a skin-tight body-suit type thing with…um… holes cut out.” I say those last few words quietly, hoping he’s not really interested since I definitely don’t want to admit that we deliberately distracted the guard. But it’s a futile hope.

Ciaran nods like he understands exactly what happened. “Then what?”

“Umm… then, ah, Róisín asked the guard to open the door for her, and… and…” Words fail me.

“And let me guess… Emylyah strutted her stuff in front of the guard, and Róisín hightailed it out of the room, with you in tow, while he was standing there with his tongue hanging out?”

I shift uncomfortably on the seat. “Well, that’s not quite how I was going to put it, but…”

“Am I wrong?” he interrupts.

“Ah… not quite,” I admit, feeling like a little girl in trouble with her daddy. How is it possible that he reduces me to this?

Tapping his fingers against his deliciously full bottom lip and calling my attention to it in a way I don’t appreciate, Ciaran appears to contemplate my words. Then a frown bisects his dark brows. “That’s not what Lyah was wearing when Callum and I arrived.”

I shake my head, not looking at him, because there’s more duplicity. “She, um, came back into the suite to change…”

He presses his lips together and nods slowly, and I can see the comprehension dawning. “And the enamored guard followed her in hoping to get a peek while she was undressing.”

“We didn’t know that was going to happen,” I hasten to tell him. From the clouds embroiling his features, I’m guessing he didn’t think that should have happened either. Taking out his phone, he jabs out an angry message before turning his laser gaze on me again.

"And speaking of clothes, I think you need to strip these back off again," Ciaran commands, waving his hand down my body, and I can't help my mouth from falling open.

"Nooo..." the whine that leaves my lips is neither pretty nor mature, but damn it, I just got proper clothes, and I want to keep them.

I glare at Ciaran, my eyes narrowing in annoyance, which is probably unwise, considering how angry he looks.

"You can't be serious," I protest, my voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance.

Ciaran chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I'm deadly serious, Maricela," he says, his voice low and dripping with authority. "You're still my captive, and since I'm not convinced you won't try to escape, you'll remain in nothing but undergarments."

My heart races in my chest as I consider my options. Part of me wants to stand my ground, to refuse his demand, and fight for my dignity. But the other part of me recognizes the futility of resisting. After all, I'm trapped and outnumbered in this heavily guarded compound.

Reluctantly, I begin to remove the top I'm wearing, feeling Ciaran's gaze burning into me as I grit my teeth, the frustration bubbling up inside me. I understand the logic behind his demand, but that doesn't stop it from feeling like a violation of my privacy and dignity. However, I also know arguing with him won't get me anywhere, because hello - prisoner here. I'm hardly in a position of power and if I'm honest, I already realize I'm lucky to be staying in such luxury. I've been around Vito enough to know he'd never allow his captives such comfort.

Unwise or not, I can't help a little bit of snark though. "I think you're a filthy damn pervert who gets off on this kind of thing," I accuse as I shimmy out of the leggings and fling them at Ciaran's head, trying to ignore how the stuffy room suddenly feels colder without the layers of fabric shielding me from the world. I cross my arms over my chest instinctively, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Ciaran catches the leggings with ease, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He tosses them aside and leans back in his chair, regarding me with an amused glint in his eyes. "Oh, Maricela," he says, his voice filled with amusement. "If I were a pervert, you wouldn't be sitting here in my suite in your underwear. Trust me, I have much more creative ways of getting my kicks."

My cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment at his words, but I refuse to let him see how much he's affecting me.

Instead, I give an exaggerated eye roll. "Oh, I don't doubt that at all," I retort, scorn dripping from my voice as I refuse to give him the last word.

"But be careful, Maricela," he warns, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "You're already in hot water. I suggest you watch your mouth, or I might be tempted to find another way to occupy it. You're looking mighty tempting there after all, and I can still remember the way your mouth feels wrapped around my cock."

He tips his head to one side. “Perhaps I might also cuff you to the headboard to make sure you can’t wander off again.”

I scowl at his response, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I hate the truth of his words. I hate feeling so exposed, so vulnerable in front of him. But I remind myself this is temporary, that eventually, I'll find a way to escape this place and regain my freedom. What occurred today provided all sorts of information and ideas.

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