Page 96 of Beautiful Scars

Instead, I found nothing but calamity.

“So, do you have any ideas for the favors?” Sarah asks as she starts rummaging around in the fridge.

Her head’s so deep inside, I could make a dash for where I assume the front door of this place is…where I’d promptly run into a wall of muscle named either Derek or Trevor.

Derek’s not too bad. Trevor’s a fucking cunt. I have a feeling Cillian hired the one, and Cole the other.

“What the hell are favors anyway?” I ask absently, leaning casually against the granite counter as I check out the living room windows a few yards away. They’re all closed and, with my luck, sealed shut.

“They’re the little gifts you give—” Sarah begins, but when she turns with her arms full of sandwich materials and catches the smirk on my face, she rolls her eyes at me. “Really, Meisie?”

“Hey, I’m locked in my room all day like a modern-day Cinderella. Don’t blame a girl for creating her own entertainment.”

She sends me a pretty scowl as she slaps four pieces of bread onto the countertop. “That’s Rapunzel.” She pauses, pressing a manicured finger to her lips. “Or Beauty and the Beast.”

I snap my fingers and point at her. “Beauty and the Kill,” I say. “Nailed it.”

She rolls her eyes again. “I saw the most amazing idea on Pinterest this morning. It’s a little box, right, and when you—”

“How much, Sarah?”

She looks up at me with a faint frown. “How much what? Would it cost?” She laughs. “I don’t think you have to worry about the—”

Sarah cuts off when I surge around the table and grab her wrist. “How much to look the other way, huh?”

Her frown deepens. “What are you—”

“Come on, you know this isn’t right.” I have to tip my head back a little to stare her in the eyes, but I’m used to everyone being a few inches taller than me. “And I promise I won’t say a word. Not about you, not about Cillian, not about Cole.”

Sarah starts shaking her head.

“This is wrong, and you know it.”

Still shaking her head, she drops her gaze. “Do you want this sandwich or not?”

I grimace and step back, crossing my arms over my chest. Subtlety has never been my strong suit. I catch Sarah giving me a quick peek from under her lashes, but then she purses her lips and starts aggressive sandwich maneuvers which makes me think I upset her.

Well, she pissed me off too.

What’s the use of a babysitter if you can’t turn her onto your side? I drag over a kitchen stool and grab a pickle from the jar she opened, crunching on it as I consider my very bleak options.

“He likes you, you know.”

I almost choke on my fucking pickle. “What?”

“Kill.” Sarah keeps her head down as she arranges the two sandwiches side by side. “I can tell.”

“You do know who I am, right?” I wave my hands around the lavish kitchen. “Are you aware that I’m being held here against my will?”

“I just mean…” She slaps a slice of bread on one sandwich then the next and starts cutting them into quarters. “Would marrying someone like him really be so bad?”

I literally laugh out loud. “You might be onto something,” I tell her, grabbing one of the quarters before she can put it on a plate. “If Cillian just a normal guy, and not a mob boss cold psycho who kidnapped me for the express purpose of getting one over on my mom…yeah…maybe.”

I bite into my sandwich, give it half a chew, and swallow. “And if I just a regular girl, and not his fucking captive, then yeah…maybe.”

The sandwich is delicious, and I hate her for it. She grabs one of her quarters and starts nibbling at it as I carry on, for all the world like this was a show she paid good money to watch.

“But we’re not, Sarah. This wedding is the romantic equivalent of a three-day-old tuna melt.” I shrug one shoulder, narrowing my eyes. “But if it helps you sleep at night then yeah. Go ahead. Pretend that we’re in love, and I’m nothing more than a blushing bride who can’t wait to get married to my handsome groom.”