Page 19

He steps into my space and slams a palm against my chest, shoving hard… and I say “hard” for him, because my body doesn’t move an inch.

But hell, if the skin he’s touching doesn’t feel like it’s burning.

“You think I don’t know that?” he growls, his face inches from mine. “Do you think I’m not reminded every single day of how much my life isn’t really mine?”

Cillian pushes my chest for the second time, and I can tell he meant it as something intimidating, but it’s having the exact opposite reaction on my body… And to make matters worse, I’m wearing the tiniest towel known to man.

I fist my hand over the fabric, holding it together.

Please don’t get hard…

Please don’t get hard.

“And since I’m not a ‘forced client’ yet—” He moves closer. “—I can happily ask you without any legal repercussions: who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me that way?”

“Who the fuck am I?” I ask, taking a half-step closer. Our chests are now almost touching.

“I’m the unlucky bastard who got hired to protect your ungrateful, dickish ass.”

“Ungrateful? I’m sorry for not being thrilled to lose the last tiny shred of freedom I had!”

“Yeah, I can see how tough you have it.”

Cillian’s hand shoots up, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his glare. “Don’t you ever assume anything about my life.”

We stand there, locked in a standoff, breathing intensely… The space between us turns into a fucking inferno.

Every professional instinct I have is screaming at me to step back and de-escalate.

But my body is doing something else.

This rage is twisting into a desperate want I can’t fully understand.

I want to crush my mouth against his just to shut him up.

I want to make him kneel, and watch his arrogance come apart as he takes me down his throat.

A wind current hits my skin, and the chills shake my stupid brain, breaking the spell.

I slap his hand away and take a step back.

“Same goes for you,” I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be. “And be careful when you jump back. Wouldn’t want you to slip and die before we even get a chance to prove your uncle right.”

“Please,” he scoffs. “I’ve been climbing these walls since I was ten. There’s a higher probability you’ll learn to be a pleasant human being than there is for me to fall.”

With incredible grace, Cillian turns, grabs the railing, and hoists himself back to his own side.

He then disappears into the darkness of his room, leaving me alone in the silence, more frustrated than I was before, and with the biggest, most confusing hard-on I’ve had in my life.

— ¤ —

I wake up earlier than usual… which must be thanks to this constant sense of dread I’ve had since I heard about this mission.

But instead of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, I finish a forty-minute workout in my room, shower, and get dressed to meet the team down in the control room.

The Harrington-Hale mansion is a ridiculous monstrosity of glass and red bricks covered in paintings, flowers, sculptures, and gold.

I can’t stand it.