Page 38 of Brutal Obsession

He removes his mouth from mine. I open my eyes, and we stare at each other again. Only now, his face doesn’t telegraph unbridled lust.

His green eyes appear distant and unreadable.

Once again, I get the bizarre sense that he almost looks hurt.

“What’s wrong?” I ask on instinct, though I should be glad he’s stopped of his own volition.

Before another word can pass between us, a loud, grating ringtone breaks the tense silence.

Cian climbs off me, leaving my body suddenly cold and bereft as he retrieves his phone from his pocket.

One glance at the caller ID has his face darkening like a storm.

Uneasiness squirms in my stomach. “Cian?”

“Stay here.” His voice grows rough. “If you run away again, I won’t be nice about it this time when I drag your ass back.”

I scowl. “Oh, and you’ve been such a gentleman so far.”

He’s not listening to me. Instead, he strides straight out of the bedroom, into the study, and slams the door shut behind him.

I huff at the empty room.

Drama king, much?

In seconds, I hop off the bed, rip off my flats, and pad as quickly and silently as possible down the stairs.

I was right about the kitchen having a back door.

The smart course of action would be to run outside, jump in Cian’s Porsche, and drive far, far away.

Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure he has the keys on his person. And with my non-athletic ass, I doubt I’ll get very far on foot.

Creeping toward the front door, I snatch my underwear off the ground and yank them on. There. At least part of my dignity’s restored.

Back to an escape plan.

If I run, Cian will probably catch me. And after fleeing him twice today, he’ll be pissed as hell.

Maybe third time’s the charm?

If he does catch me a third time, whether he wants to sleep with me or not, he’ll definitely confine me. That’s the worst-case scenario. Because if he ties me up and smuggles me back to New York City, I’m screwed.

I need to keep him happy enough with me that he won’t try that.

Which means, the best thing I can do is go back upstairs, play nice, and plot my manipulation.

Another thought hits me. If he wants to sleep with me after he emerges from that study, and I’m wearing my underwear again, he’ll know I came down here even though he told me to stay upstairs. He might suspect I’m up to something.

Damn it.

Hate, hate,hatemy life sometimes.

With great reluctance, I peel off the panties, place them back on the floor, and hurry upstairs as discreetly as possible. When I reach the upstairs landing, I glance at the still-closed door of the study. I can hear Cian’s voice as he talks on the phone.

To figure out the best time to ditch him, it would be helpful to understand more about his assignment.

My feet shuffle me toward the door, where I settle in to eavesdrop.

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