Page 67 of Stolen Rival
“Sit down.”
She does, her teeth drawing across her bottom lip. “Was that… okay?”
Okay? It was fucking incredible. I’ve got nail marks in my palm from fighting to maintain control and not lose myself to her again. “Better than okay. You did well, especially for your first time.”
Her cheeks pinken. She’s adorable when she embodies a submissive role, but it’s not her natural place. She’s a fighter, a scrappy little thing who will constantly push her boundaries until she breaks free. I can’t have that. Dylan made sure our futures were entwined, and I won’t have a slip of a girl tearing my dreams down.
“I know what you’re planning, Sorcha.”
Her tongue flicks over her lips, and she swallows. “What do you mean?”
“I heard what you said to Cathal.” When she keeps her expression schooled, I smile. “What was it? Oh, that’s it. ‘Don’t you worry, Cathal. I’m working on a plan to get us both out of here as soon as possible. Then we’ll be together forever. You and me against the world.’ That’s right, isn’t it?”
She swallows again, wrapping both arms across her abdomen. “I… You’ve misunderstood.”
“I don’t think so.” Reaching out, I clasp a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “Whatever you’re cooking up in that pretty little head of yours, forget it. You’re wasting your time. I’m always watching. There is no escape. Wherever you go, I’ll find you and make you regret every second we were apart. You think you’re trapped now? That’s nothing compared to how fucking excruciating I could make your life. You are stuck with me forever,mo mhuirnín. The sooner you come to accept that, the better your life will be.”
I tug on her hair, yanking her head back. “Think aboutwhat I’ve said. I can be a cruel man, Sorcha, or I can be generous and giving. Which one you end up with is entirely in your hands.”
Releasing her, I stand, grab my water and drain the glass. “I have work to do. Make yourself scarce.”
“You… youarsehole.You told me you’d never do this to me again, but you’re a liar.”
An uncomfortable feeling circles in my chest, one that tastes of regret and broken promises. She’s right. I did say that, but then she changed the rules with what she said to Cathal. When I just stare at her, a sob breaks free from her throat, and the daggers she sends my way would kill a lesser man. “I hate you,” she whispers.
She whips around and storms out, slamming my office door behind her.
Several minutes later, I’m still staring at the door, a river of hate running through my veins. Not for her, but for myself.
Chapter 34
SORCHA
As soon asthe study door closes behind me, I take off. I don’t care if I’m supposed to tell someone that I’m going outside. I don’t care if he lets the murder dog loose on my heels. I need air. I need to get out of this building where I can simmer in self-loathing in, well, not private exactly, but as close to it as I can manage.
As I hurry down the steps leading into the gardens, I mentally kick myself. What was I thinking? Rambling to Cathal about how we’d be free someday. Did I mean free from my husband? Or freeing my brother from the facility? It doesn’t matter to Patrick, he heard what he heard and reacted how he reacted.
No room for dissent, no room for ambiguity, no room to fucking explain myself. This man lives in absolutes, binary, zeros or ones, this or that, with no shades or depths, nothing beyond the walls of duality. It’s a safety measure. Da was the same in many ways, but Patrick’s need to be in control of every damn thing, to never appear weak, to let “the job” dictate hisevery move means he’s strangling his own potential. Hisgrowth.
Regardless of what Isaidto Cathal, or my intentions behind it, Patrick and I both know that there was never a chance of me actually escaping from him. He’s making sure I don’t eventhinkabout trying to escape. Well, suck on this, arsehole. You can’t control what someone dreams about.
As far as I’m concerned, his reiteration of threats was an unnecessary flex, but to Patrick, fear and control are his main methods of governance.
I’m not even angry at his blathering about Cathal and being his bullying bastard self. That’s just who he is, but I am beyond furious that he used me and dismissed me. Again. And after he promised he wouldn’t treat me like that again.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice. Well. Let’s just say my knees are staying closed to my husband for the foreseeable. I’m not letting him make me feel like…thisfor a third time.
I rub at my chest, shame sticking to my skin in the cool evening breeze. Where the hell was my self-respect? Where was my voice, my demand before I sucked him off that he wouldn’t simply take what he needed from me and discard me like yesterday’s rubbish?
Spurred by a hurricane of hurt and hellfire in my veins, I huff my way through the flower beds to the orchard. It’s too dark to read, but maybe not to kick off my shoes and touch grass. And hopefully, after a few minutes of pacing between the apple trees, I’ll feel less inclined to beat that fucker to death with my shoe.
I wish I’d taken Mairead’s steak knife back with me on the plane, but I wasn’t sure whether or not Patrick would haveme searched for contraband. If I had it in my grasp tonight, I might go back in there and cut off his dick to prove my point.
It was naive of me to think that something would shift after we got married or something else would shift when we had sex for the first time. There’s no affection for me in him. I’m literally a cum receptacle, something to dip his dick in, but if he wants to keep doing that, he’s going to have to change.
This pussy is closed until further notice.
“Want a smoke?” A voice scares the life out of me, making me squeal. It’s not pitch black yet, but I didn’t see anyone else out here on my rampage through the flowers. I cover my mouth with both hands to drown out my noise because the last thing I want is for a team of armed men rushing out into the garden. Or worse, Patrick.
