Page 47 of Three Irish Kings
Cillian groans. “You’re going to ask it no matter what I say, so go ahead.”
“Are you... rich like Liam?”
“Like Liam? Not exactly.” He gives me a small, predatory smile, showing his even, white teeth. It makes me shiver.
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“I do well for myself. I own a restaurant and a contracting business outside of town.”
“So, you’re a billionaire, too?”
He flushes, the first time I’ve seen him do so. “Aye.”
Unless Dare happens to be the only one of them without money, I’ve been kidnapped by three mobsters who also happen to be billionaires.
“Killing people must make you a lot of money.”
“It used to. Nowadays, I stick to contracting.”
Is he lying? It seems like he is, since he won’t keep my gaze. Or maybe he’s just ashamed. I haven’t done as much research on Cillian as I have Liam. And it’s not like I did all that much research on Liam to start with. Just enough to know who he was at the gala, in case our paths crossed.
And look at me now. Not only have they crossed, they have merged in a way that I can’t escape.
What am I supposed to do now? These men will keep me locked up until the order comes for them to torture and kill me, and sick, perverted me can only think about them inside me.
Why am I so sick? What is wrong with me? Why do I wan?—
“Are you finally done talking?”
I’m surprised into a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m done talking. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His voice is low and comforting.
I stare back at the TV. We’re halfway through the first episode of this show, and it’s full of drama. Yet, I can’t focus on anything other than the man sitting across from me.
This is how I normally relax, but without a huge man watching me like a hawk.
There’d be no way to slip away from him. I’d never make it to the door.
I remember how fast he is, how strong, how he dragged me to the car. How strong his arms felt around me. How hard his body was when he was holding me against him.
Arousal pools in my stomach, and I hate myself.
Do I have Stockholm syndrome? Is that what this is?
If Cillian wasn’t my prison warden, if this wasn’t about my survival, I’d probably like him. Dare, too. I hadn’t seduced him so much as he’d seduced me, if I’m honest with myself.
And even Liam, who’s cruel and rough and all dark clouds, has a certain charm about him.
My eyes drift shut, heavy as the droning voices on the TV lull me, and when I wake up, it’s dark out.
I yawn and open my eyes, realizing a soft blanket has been thrown over me as I lay on the couch.
Cillian.
I find it oddly sweet.
The man is a silent, lethal weapon. For as much as I talked to him today, he kept his words to a bare minimum, keeping his distance. And now this?
