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His political puppet.
His fuck toy.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
I frown.
“For the cat.”
I swallow, eying him warily, waiting for the trap to spring. “Thank you. His name is Bones.”
“Because he was skin and bones, due to lack of food?”
I glare at him. “Because his markings reminded me of a skeleton. And Ifedhim.”
“In the strictest definition of the word, yes, I suppose so.”
I squint at him. “I haven’t exactly been flush with cash.”
“Ah, right, you haven’t been gainfully employed.” He smiles thinly. “Now, why was that, Una? Your busy charity schedule? Were you off changing lives? Or, wait, were you compiling a fuckinghit listof me and my fucking family and plotting to kill me?”
I swallow, avoiding his gaze.
“You’ll forgive my utter lack of sympathy, Una.”
“What do youwantwith me?”
Cillian leans against the doorframe, crossing his veined, muscled arms over his firm chest. As always, he’s in a black button-up shirt and black pants.
I mean Jesus Christ, he doesn’thaveto dress like the Devil, does he? As if it’s not painfully obvious he is anyway?
“You haven’t been eating.”
It’s not a kindly, worried observation.
It’s a reprimand.
“I haven’t exactly been hungry.”
“You still need to eat.”
“I. Can’t.”
He doesn’t respond. He just lets those lethal eyes bore into me. Which should be unnerving. Iknow, logically, that a look this penetrating from this man should freak me right the fuck out.
Except it doesn’t. Instead, it’s weirdly…warming, which is insane given how cold a look it is. But it’s the same look he gave me when he told me he’d rip out all my secrets. That he’d pry out and expose every dark part of me. And now, seeing it again, that’s all I can think about.
Dark, illicit desires.
Stop that.
“So. Are you going to eat, or are we going to have to play it how we did before?”
My face burns hotly, remembering when he planted me on his lap and force fed me, while…torturing me.
Deliciously. Sinfully.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Una.”
