Page 81 of Quinlan

He, too, is gorgeous. The color of his gray suit accentuates his stormy eyes. His stubble is a tad thicker than Damien’s; I see that better now in the light of day. The color is lighter, much like Rome’s hair.

And his command doesn’t change a damn thing. I still can’t move.

“Terrified little flame.” Liam pushes his chair back, rising to his full intimidating height.

His light gray suit moves with his lean body as he rounds the table. Approaches me.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.

Nothing. I have nothing going for me but my roaring pulse. Nothing but panic clutches on to my lungs.

“Let me help you with that.” Instead of sidestepping me, Liam stands right there, before me. Crowds my space.

He smells fresh. Clean. The smoke from the first time we met isn’t there.

He’s just as intimidating. By the look in his amber eyes, he knows he is.

He raises his arm over my head, and—

Click.

The door closes.

Liam remains there, his hand sliding toward my cheek. So close that I feel the fire beneath his fingertips. It burns hotter when he brushes my cheek.

My tattoo.

My memory. The one they treat as if it were theirs. Just like they toy with me and my parents’ financial security as if it was nothing but a kinky joke.

Fuck them.

“What the hell’s going on here?” I scowl at him. “What are you doing here?”

A second or an eternity passes. Time has no meaning when he’s studying me like this. He tilts his head, as though he’s excavating my soul out of me. Out of the ruins.

I’m not giving him anything willingly. A wall goes up behind my eyes. I’ve done this before, hundreds of times. I can and will do it again.

Moreover, I won’t let him catch me looking at his scar. He won’t hear me saying it’s beautiful ever again.

“This is just another way to manipulate me.” Fuck, my voice breaks. My nerves are shot. I’m upset. I’m furious. I’m confused. “And…”

I’m scared.

“And what, Quinlan?” Liam’s voice runs deep. As deep as his gaze, despite my best attempts to block him out. “What are you going to do?”

It’s my turn to be silent. There are vowels and consonants swimming in my mouth. Tapping on my tongue. They’re there. All I have to do is reach out for them and turn them into words.

But my tongue is too heavy. I’m too fucking pissed.

“Liam, do we really need her answer?” Rome. Harsh, unforgiving Rome. The man who spanked me so hard that I still feel his palm on me.

“No.” Liam walks backward, giving me one final look, then spins on his heel. Prowls back to his seat next to Damien and lowers himself into it.

“We don’t need her answer.” He cocks an eyebrow. “She needs to listen.”

“Sheis here.”

Finally, with them at a safe distance, I can finally breathe. My tongue works. My lungs function. Anger fuels my sense of righteousness. They can’t do this to me.

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