Page 59 of Fearless

MEISIE

Green.Green? What, like lime green? Forest green?Pukegreen?

Cillian doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that comes up with elaborate pranks just for the sake of yelling out, “You got punked!” and then posting it to his Insta.

Still, I don’t know, I was convinced he was joking about the whole marriage thing. I mean…what the actual fuck?

Understandably, the color of my bridesmaid dresses should be the last fucking thing plaguing me right now, but it’s like my mind lost a wagon wheel and that’s where it got stuck.

Green.

I told him it was my favorite color.

He told me it was his favorite color too.

Now my bridesmaids will all be wearing green. But lime green, or like a pastel—?

I flinch when the metal door handle opens. Footsteps thump down the stairs.

Wow. Bestowed with his presence twice in one day? What a fucking honor.

Then my mind throws me a curveball because I can’t actually see who’s coming down the stairs. I assume it’s Cillian because I like to think I’m observant and I’d recognize his footsteps by now.

But what if it’s Cole?

I scramble into a sit and hug my legs to my chest. When Cillian turns the corner, my bones melt with relief. He’s holding a cup and saucer. It looks like a kiddy’s playset sized one in his massive hand. And for once his eyes aren’t on me—they’re on the cup. Making sure he doesn’t spill as he walks across the room to me.

Why you?

Why me?

Why couldn’t this be a normal fucking bedroom? Him a normal fucking guy? Me a normal—

Ha! I never was, never will be normal. That ship sailed years ago.

But I wish I had the imagination to pretend, even for a second, that the guy walking up to me with a cup of tea in his hands was my boyfriend, and not my captor.

Oh, wait. I almost forgot.

He’s my fucking fiancé.

Cillian looks up as he sets the cup down on the nightstand and suddenly he’s wearing a frown almost as deep as mine. “Brought you tea,” he says, but as if he’s now regretting the gesture.

And then he smiles. It’s an awkward, lopsided thing, but it’s a smile.

My eyes immediately dart to the cup. “I don’t want it,” I snap, scooting away over the bed.

He straightens, sighs, and scans the room like he’s looking for a handy exit.

Trust me, Cillian, there ain’t one.

“Look, Meisie...”

I don’t know what comes over me.

Maybe I’m still pissed at my mind playing tricks on me earlier. I know he was having fun with me in my blanket fort—I could see it in his eyes. And then something happened. It was like a switch went off in his head. Like that evil overlord brother of his pressed a button upstairs in his office and snatched away Cillian’s happiness. Yeah—some kind of alarm probably went off in his control center. Bam, Cillian’s telling me I will marry him.

Maybe it’s the fact that he dragged me upstairs and showed me off like a prize pony. I certainly felt like one when his slimy brother put his hands on me. And Cillian didn’t bother to stop him.

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