He walks over to the closet, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as he does. “It’s my room, where else would I sleep?”
“I thought this wasmyroom.”
Cillian slips off his dress shirt, and the tight undershirt he’s wearing hugs every muscle of his chest. His shoulders flex as he strips that off, and then he’s standing shirtless, looking too good for someone as evil as he is.
“We’re getting married. It’sourroom now.”
I swallow hard as he turns and disappears into the closet.
When he didn’t immediately follow me to bed, I hoped he was as disinterested in me sexually as he seemed to be with my presence in the car. I thought maybe he wanted nothing from me apart from using me to destroy my family. But now that he’s shirtless a few feet away, a lump forms in my throat.
I’m going to be his wife, and he’s a man with a well-earned reputation. What if he’s more like Sascha than I wanted to believe?
After all, he put me inhisroom.
I’m not sure how I missed it when Darci and Peyton showed me around. There are watches on the desk, and the charcoal wallpaper is masculine. One of his ties is draped over the white leather couch.
My grip on the sheet tightens as I hug it around me.
Cillian walks back out of the closet wearing nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants. But he’s thumbing through his phone, not so much as glancing in my direction as he makes his way to the bathroom.
I probably shouldn’t be surprised by how comfortable he is, given this is his bedroom, but he’s acting as though I’m not here at all, and I don’t like how easy it is for him to completely ignore my presence.
The bathroom is wide open to the bedroom, and I watch as he walks to the sink and washes his face before brushing his teeth. Everything he does appears so normal for a man who kills people out of amusement.
I’ve heard the stories. Cillian might have spent some time away from his family, but it doesn’t mean he escaped their influence. He was raised to inflict pain, and the fact that he bought me to benefit his revenge scheme is proof he’s as heartless as everyone says.
Cillian flicks off the light to the bathroom and makes his way over to the bed. In the darkness, the hard cut of his stomach flexes with each step, and I hate that even if I know he’s evil, I can’t help but stare at him. How hispants hang low on his hips. How his body moves with cool confidence.
I divert my eyes as he sinks onto the bed.
He pulls the sheet over him but doesn’t lie down, instead leaning against the headboard to continue whatever he is doing on his phone. Thankfully, the bed is large enough that there’s still a canyon of space between us.
“Don’t worry.” He glances over at me and chuckles.
I pull the blanket further up my chest. “About what?”
“I’m not going to touch you.” He says it like he’s annoyed I’d even think he’d want to touch me, and for some reason, that hits a nerve.
“Why not?”
Cillian turns his face to me. His gray eyes are pinched as he sees where I’m gripping the blanket before he once more shoots me with his stare.
“Why not?” He repeats my question.
“It’s just, I know you’ve been around, that’s all.” I try to sound casual, but his stare is burning a hole through me. “And you’re the one who’s making me sleep inyourroom.”
“Ourroom,” he corrects me, not that it seems overly important right now.
“Fine. Our room.” I roll my eyes. “Why do we have to share a room if you’re that disgusted by me?”
“Because you’re going to be my wife. It’s expected.”
“How very traditional of you.” I force a smile, and the faintest hint of amusement ghosts his otherwise cool expression at my sarcasm. “I suppose it’s fitting either way.”
“What makes you say that?”
I shrug. “Men like you don’t fuck their wives, right? That’s what mistresses are for.”