Page 18 of Stolen Rebel

“You’re going to be staying here for the foreseeable, Rebel. If there’s something on your mind…” He sweeps his hand at me.

I swallow down the anxiety in my mouth and force myself to say words I’d never in a million years say if my life wasn’t hanging in the balance. I poke at the egg, making my nose crinkle as I frown at it. “I just prefer my egg yolk a little runnier is all.” The lie settles on my tongue far too easily.

He stares at me, his eyes spearing mine and seeking the truth somewhere in my soul. I hold my breath. This is the moment… where he decides if he knows me… or if I’ve just rewritten the version of me in his head.

The corner of his lips twitch, but instead of calling me out on my lie, he simply nods. “I’ll be sure to have Maeve make you the perfect soft egg from now on.”

There it is. It’s not victory, but the first crack.

I try to mask my disappointment, my disgust at having to force runny eggs down my throat for the duration of my stay, but from the way he stares at the hard yolk on my plate like it owes him money, I might have convinced him that he doesn’t know me as well as he thought. Or that I might not be Rowan after all. Either way, I’ll take it. Even if it means enduring slimy eggs, and even if I can feel the walls shifting around me as he recalibrates, thinking of his next move.

It’s a small price to pay for gleaning some information about who he is now and how he plays. Liam Mahoney thinks he’s the one testing me. But he has no idea that I’ve just started testing him back.

“You’ll eat with the rest of us in the mornings. I won’t have poor Maeve busting her arse all morning in the kitchen. Either you’re down here for six thirty with the rest of us, or you go hungry. Your door will be unlocked one minute before mealtimes, so make sure you are ready.”

I flare my nostrils, wanting to stamp my foot at yet another condition of my imprisonment being added to my sentence, but instead, I shake my head. “It’s okay. I don’t want to be a hassle. I can make myself toast, or get cereal. It’s no big deal.”

He slams an open palm on the table, making the cutlery jump and the crockery clink, then smiles like he hasn’t just rattled the pictures on the walls. “Those are your options, with the family at six thirty, or you go hungry. Are we clear?”

I swallow down any retort that may be simmering on my tongue and instead nod before shoving a mouthful of breakfast into my mouth to keep from digging myself an early grave.

I look past the plate, and my breath hitches. Tucked beside the teapot is a small ceramic jar of honey. Did Liam remember I take honey in my tea? He doesn’t mention it, and he doesn’t look at me while I reach for it, but the weight of his awareness in the room shifts, a silent acknowledgment that he’s still cataloging my preferences even while he tries to break me over fucking eggs.

“Sorcha won’t be around for a few days.”

His words hang heavy between us, and tears prick my eyelids as I blink them back from spilling onto my cheeks. My heart sinks at his words. The only woman I’ve met here, the only potential… ally? Is gone.

“Unless I decide otherwise, you’ll leave your room for mealtimes only. It’s the only time your room will be unlocked.”

I clench my teeth but still don’t answer.

“If you need something, you knock on the door and someone will come.”

My jaw aches from the clench, but I refuse to snap back at him. I keep my eyes lowered to my plate and push the food around to make it look like I’ve eaten, but my appetite disappeared along with whatever hope I held that he’d let me go soon.

He’s like a spider playing with a fly trapped in its web. He has no intention of freeing me. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants, and yet… the one thing he wants, the truth, is the one thing I can’t give him.

Instead, I’ll give him exactly what I want him to believe.

Chapter 11

LIAM

Runny eggs, my arse. Rowan hated runny eggs, and no amnesia, faked or otherwise, will change someone’s taste buds. A hint of a smile pulls at one corner of my mouth at the idea of watching her force down the runniest of yolks every damn morning.

I’ll make sure Maeve leaves enough snot in them to make my fake little nemesis balk.

Although I hate to admit it, she’s keeping up this pretense far longer than I expected. Then again, the Rowan I knew had balls of steel and never shied away from a battle. People can only hide their true selves for so long. In the end, the person underneath bursts through, and the same will be true of Rowan. All I have to do is try my best to be patient and wait it out.

Easier said than done.

She eats the bacon, half a sausage, and a slice of toast, notably leaving the eggs with the hard yolk she loves. The momentary flash of longing that crosses her face when I whip her plate away doesn’t go unnoticed.

One more nail in her bullshit coffin of lies.

She pushes back her chair and gets to her feet. As she turns, ready to leave the kitchen, I clear my throat. She pivots, arms folded underneath her tits. I thought I’d forgotten how perfect they were, but one flash last night and all those memories flooded back. Five years later, and she still has the most perfect tits of any woman I’ve been with. A handful, no more, no less, with rosy-tipped nipples that point ever so slightly up.

Gorgeous.