Page 108 of Beautiful Scars

Who, Meisie?Trish asks patiently. So fucking patiently.Who will you call? Your mother? The police? A cab?

I touch my finger to the lock, but I don’t swipe.

No one. I have no one.

But, it doesn’t matter anyway when the thing vibrates in my hand withFace not recognizedshowing across the top of the screen.

I put the phone back into my pocket.

Cillian looks up from the back of the wine bottle he’s studying in the flickering light of the candles on our table. I stop beside the booth, not sitting.

“Take me back,” I say quietly.

He frowns at me. Shakes his head. “We haven’t eaten.” Points at the seat opposite. “Sit.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He scans me. “When last did you eat, princess?”

I lean to the side and grab my glass of wine, down it. I’m surprised it doesn’t break when I slam it down. And then I turn to leave.

Cillian grabs my wrist.

With a single tug, he has me on his lap. He uses his other hand to shove the table a foot or so away so when I start to struggle I don’t bump my legs.

How fucking sweet.

And Lord, do I struggle. But he’s stronger than me. Bigger than me. And he just doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. As soon as his hand claps around the front of my throat, I play possum.

It must look ridiculous—me on his lap. One hand on my belly, the other around my throat. But no one can see us in this little alcove of wood and velvet. Not unless they walked right up to our table.

And at least I’m not the only one panting.

“Let go.” I push the words through my teeth.

“You hit your head in there or something?” he asks. “Because you were in a much better mood.”

“Guess I came to my senses.”

He’s quiet at this, but not for long.

“I thought we discussed this,” he hisses, his mouth right by my ear. I shiver when they brush my skin and squirm as if I have any hope of getting free. “I bring you out here for a nice dinner—”

“Breakfast.”

“But you can’t even behave for all of...what time is it?”

I fumble through his suit jacket, take his phone and toss it on the table so hard it bounces. “Five past go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, princess,” Kill croons as he slowly cuts off my air. “Dear, sweet, little girl.” He nips my earlobe. “You shouldn’t be making Daddy mad right now. We’re in public.”

“We’re hidden in the back of a pub in some old man’s basement. Public is a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” I wiggle my ass, testing to see if there’s a weakness in his grip. The only thing I find is the rock-hard dick in Cillian’s lap.

He shoves his hand between my legs and I whimper when he squeezes me.

I should be apologizing, but I’m mad.

At him.