Page 30 of Fearless

And it’s always money or power, isn’t it?

Power.

But what power?

Screw this.

“Why am I here?”

He doesn’t even look at me. “Eat your food, or you’re going back.”

Ugh. To the sex dungeon? I drop my head again.

So I won’t be getting any intel from him. Back to figuring this out myself. Now I’m suddenly wishing he had given me coffee, because my brain feels like a bowl of mashed potatoes.

What can I remember?

The club. I’d gone there with a purpose, one I’d thought Cillian could fulfill. My cheeks warm-up at the thought. I try and push it away, but it comes back again.

You’re a fucking idiot, Meisie. Do you honestly think your shrink meant you should throw yourself on the first guy you see and have him take you home and fuck you? How on God’s green earth was that going to fix the level of fucked up in your head?

I work through my memories, willing the haze surrounding last night to lift and reveal its secrets.

The club. Dancing. Bitches at the bar. Cillian saving me.

I glance across at him. He’s wearing a deep frown, his arms crossed over his chest. Was he wearing those clothes last night? Why hasn’t he changed yet? They look rumpled, like he slept in them. He made sure I was scrubbed and fed, but it looks like he could use sleep, a shower, and about three bowls of cereal. And coffee.

Damn, now I want that coffee so bad.

So that’s what he was wearing last night. But he had a suit jacket on too. Took me to that table in the corner, the private VIP section kind of thing. Talking. I sat on his lap—

Oh my God, I was practicallybeggingsomeone to kidnap me.

My spoon tinkles as I drop it into the bowl. Milk splashes out and lands on my hand. Cillian happens to look over at me as I lick it off like a cat.

Something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant.

He growls out something indecipherable, storms around the kitchen island, and drags me off the stool.

“Hey!” I yelp out as his fingers dig hard into my flesh.

“Let’s get something straight, Meisie,” he grates out in a low voice. “There’s nothing you can do that’s going to change your situation.” He pauses on the threshold of the narrow passage we took to get here and shakes me. “Do you understand?”

As soon as I tip my head back and stare up at him, my stomach drops to my toes. His green eyes are near black, his mouth set in a hard, unwavering line.

What the hell did I do? Was I taking too long with my breakfast or something? Does he realize it took me forever to find the cereal in the ocean of milk he poured for me?

But all I say is, “Yes.”

He studies me for a moment, scanning my face as if searching for a lie. Then he yanks me after him as he stalks back to the dungeon.

Oh God.

OhfuckingGod.

Cillian storms down the stairs with me and up to the bed. He whirls me around. When he lets go of my arm, I go flying against the bed. My shins knock against the base, making me yelp as pain shoots through my legs.

There’s no time to turn around. No chance to defend myself.

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