Page 28 of Fearless

Okay, maybe I’m a little scared. Call it uneasy.

My hand stops an inch away from my inner thigh.

The blood. It’s gone.

Or maybe it wasn’t there to begin with.

Although I wet my hair thoroughly and rub a little shampoo in the ends, I don’t wash my hair. Instead, I get out of the shower, leaving the water running, and towel dry as quickly as I can.

If he thinks I’m taking a leisurely shower, then I’ll have a few minutes to poke around.

There’s no way I’m wearing my dirty underwear, so I leave it off.

No running. No escaping.

Really. Like I’m just going to sit here and calmly accept my fate?

As I start nosing around in the bathroom, my mind keeps going back to what he said.

And as much as I don’t want to come to the conclusion that seems so blatant I could laugh…

I’m pretty sure this is about Mother.

* * *

Cillian’s leaning against the opposite wall having a cigarette when I finally emerge from the shower. There was nothing I could have used as a weapon except a bottle of dodgy looking deodorant. Which I could have turned into a flamethrower if I’d managed to get his lighter from him… but I have a feeling I’d have ended up on fire, not him.

I have a towel over my hair and I’m tugging at the hem of the pathetic attempt at pajamas he left for me.

“Do you seriously not even have a pair of pants for me?” I ask, frowning at him when he takes his time examining my legs.

“For you? No.”

Doos!I scowl at him, and try to step back when he makes a grab for me. He straightens, lets out a long, world-weary sigh, and pins me with narrowed green eyes.

“You’re only making this harder.”

Unbidden, my eyes fly to his crotch. But I immediately look away, cursing myself. That hadn’t been a pun, idiot! Now he thinks you were looking at his junk.

Well, I had been, but—

Cillian lets out a low chuckle and grabs the back of my neck. “Let’s go,” he says as he herds me down the hallway.

After the shitty bathroom he’d taken me to, I don’t expect to walk into an enormous open-plan kitchen. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention en-route.

I’m pretty sure I can find my way back to the dungeon unaided, which means if—when—I escape, I’ll be able to find my way out of here.

Because if this is about Mother, escape is priority number one.

It’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would this stinking rich guy—and apparently his brother—go to all this trouble to pick up a girl? Definitely not to reside in their sex dungeon, although strangely enough that’s what they wanted me to think.

Or maybe they just found it a handy place to keep their hostage.

Because I’m definitely a hostage.

If there isn’t a video camera in my face in the next hour with a cue card where I tell Mom I’m safe, and they won’t hurt me, but only if she wires six figures into some random account in the Seychelles…well, then I’d eat my own dirty underwear.

Ew.

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