Page 12 of Romancing the Reaper

But who knows how long I’m going to be trapped here. How long can I lie to a person who is going to be watching me so closely? I’ve never admitted out loud that I have a problem. I’ve always let people tell me that it’s wrong and that my eatingdisorder shouldn’t control me. Cristiano constantly calls it ‘my little issue’. It feels like cheapening it.

“Bulimia…a byproduct of anorexia nervosa.” I mutter, refusing to look at him. “It’s a hard thing to overcome.”

Saying out loud like that is… liberating in a way.

I exhale slowly. He doesn’t flinch or recoil away from me like it’s something akin to leprosy. Cristiano hadn’t taken the news nearly as well. He instantly launched himself into ‘fix it’ mode and tried to take out all of the parts of me that he deemed ‘wrong’. Like it was just something that I could turn off and on. His heart was in the right place, of course, but it felt like something huge and that I should never mention in the light of day ever. Something to be shoved into the closet.

“It’s… I can’t help it. I try, but sometimes, it just gets triggered. It’s not something that I ever induced on my own or just… I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. It just happens.”

“Is there a medicine that you need?” Kieran says flatly, without asking any more questions.

“No, it’s just something that gets triggered. Only time can fix it.”

“I see.”

I watch his face, the shampoo rinsing out of my hair and water sluicing down my body. He hasn’t looked down once that I cansee. If anything, there seemed to be a hint of understanding in his expression.

“Stress, or certain smells…it just happens. I’m trying to get better.”

“You don’t have to explain that to me, Ada.” Kieran says gently.

He said that he doesn’t want to hurt me and that he wants to marry me. While it's just a ploy to get what he wants, if he had wanted to have done something bad to me, I’m literally standing naked right in front of him.

“If you need something that will ease your symptoms, let me know. I do not wish to make your stay here any more difficult than it already is.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Would you prefer that I be cruel?”

“Well, I guess keeping me here prisoner isn’t exactly kind. But…”

“I’m not the monster here, Ada. Your brother owns that title.” Kieran says as he pulls his hands away from me. Did I hurt his feelings? I can’t seem to take my eyes off of him, no matter how hard I try. “Either way, we will have to do something about this. My future wife needs a clean bill of health. You don’t want to be pregnant or having children with these sorts of issues. So,whatever needs to be done in order to remedy this, I will ensure that it’s done.”

I automatically take issue with his commanding tone. My knee jerk reflex is to dig my heels in and refute everything that he says.

“Like I’m ever going to fuck you.” I spit defiantly. My irritation spikes. I was wrong, he’s not handling this better than Cristiano. Maybe all mobster men are truly the same after all.

“Yet, Ada, believe me, you will.” Kieran’s gaze darkens, his smirk almost feral with desire on some primal level. I hate that it’s so fucking attractive. No man should look that good when saying such controlling shit.

I try to move forward, but Kieran is already leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

I wince and stare at the space that Kieran just occupied a few moments ago. I can’t get a proper read on him. It feels far more oppressive standing here in this bathroom than before. He didn’t lock it behind him. I’m absolutely positive that he’s standing right outside of the door, a silent sentinel.

I languish in the warm water, attempting to sort out this strange cocktail of emotions that are rolling around inside of me. The scent of pine fills the room as I wash my body on autopilot. I don’t think that I’m ever going to be able to smell this scent without thinking of Kieran now.

When I’m finally clean, I step out of the bath and wrap myself up in a towel. It’s not half as soft as the ones in my apartment. I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t put forth any additional effort into making this dwelling feel like a home. Is this just where he’s holding me for now? Is there another place that feels more like a home to him? It can’t hurt to play nice at least long enough to learn more about his plan for me, right?

More than one conversation needs to be had.

My gaze lingers on the dress that I’ve left in a pile on the floor. I won’t ever be able to wear it again, so I step over it carefully and attempt to ready myself to face him again. He needs to understand that I’m not to be held responsible for my brother’s actions. I know in my heart that Cristiano wouldn’t have ever killed anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Clearly, Kieran’s father was a bad man. That doesn’t make the grief any easier to swallow, however, I’m sure.

Inhaling deeply, I clutch the towel and swing open the door - but Kieran isn’t there.

A pang of disappointment hits me, unexpected and unwelcome.

The floor is cold against my bare feet as I slowly walk down the hallway back toward the living area. My wet footprints leave marks on the unsealed concrete floor. I only make it a few steps before I see a pile of freshly folded clothing sitting on the back of the armchair that I presume are for me.

It must be one of Kieran’s t-shirts. A plain black cotton one that’s far too large for me, as well as sweatpants that seem like they came from a big box store, but it’s better than nothing.

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