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To my surprise, he doesn’t have a rebuttal. Instead, his expression clears and he dishes out his own helping. The rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Which is fine by me. I’m not sure I could speak civilly anyway. For the moment, I’ll play nice—or as nice as I can make myself play—and when he gets bored, I’ll go home.
Despite my head start and my hunger, Liam is finished before I am. He sets his silverware on his plate and pushes it away from him. He rests his clasped hands on the edge of the table. “Did the clothes in the closet fit?”
I’d inspected the entirety of the bedroom and bathroom I’d been given after he had left earlier. A ridiculous amount of women’s clothes—none to my taste—were hung in the closet. If they were there for me, then my captor doesn’t know shit about me. I didn’t touch a single article.
“Don’t know. Didn’t try them on,” I mumble through a mouth full of food.
Liam’s jaw clenches and he inhales deeply through his nose like he’s trying to breathe in patience. “May I ask why not?”
“Sure.” I set down my own set of utensils and swallow that last bite. “For two reasons. One, there was nothing in there that I even remotely liked. And two, I’m not wearing clothes you provide like I’m some little doll you can dress up.”
“I see.”
Unable to sit here any longer like we’re a normal couple having a nice quiet dinner at home together, I toss my napkin onto my empty plate and rise from the chair.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my prison cell,” I call over my shoulder, already walking away.
A chair scrapes across the floor behind me, but I don’t stop. Liam grabs my arm and I turn on him with a hiss. “Get your hands off me.”
“You seem to think you’re the one in charge here. Maybe you need to be reminded that I’m the one in control and who can do anything he wants.”
I jerk my arm, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “So, what? Are you going to rape me now?”
He sneers. “I think we already established that I don’t have to resort to rape.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“The only person I’m going to be fucking is you.” He yanks me against him, wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and slams his mouth down on mine in a blistering kiss full of fire and rage.
It’s a battle of wills, both of us trying to prove a point, and neither of us wanting to concede. Except I can feel myself giving in to the pleasure. The desire. I whimper, almost pleading for more. Liam’s beard scrapes my skin in the most delicious way, abrading it harshly and sending a spark of pleasure-pain dancing through me. I bite him—hard—but he only deepens the kiss. The warm, briny flavor of his blood glides across my tongue. It’s the taste of it that brings me to my senses. I rip myself from his arms.
We stand there, panting, and glare at each other. Shame creeps up my neck, heating my flesh. Liam’s tongue flicks out and laps up the bit of blood spread across his bottom lip. That tiny movement makes my pussy throb even more, as I imagine him licking me instead. Sliding through my wetness, drinking it down. Feasting on me like I’m his favorite dessert. A shiver runs over me and a knowing glint flashes in his eyes.
“Go ahead and run away like a scared little girl,” Liam goads me. “We both know, though, that when you go to sleep tonight you’ll be dreaming of me fucking you hard and fast. And when I’m lying in bed stroking myself, I’ll be thinking of you.”
My face flames, both from rage and embarrassment, and without another word, I spin and rush out of the room while his mocking laughter chases me the whole way.
CHAPTER SIX
Liam
Ignoring the sputtering housekeeper, I stride through the front door of Dónal Sheehan’s sprawling manor house as though I own the place. Which I will, as soon as this meeting is over. Behind me are Darragh and Craig. Our footsteps beat a rhythmic staccato on the hardwood floor. God, I hate this fucking house. Always have. It’s cold and emotionless. For someone like me, it should be perfect then. Instead, it only serves as a reminder of its owner—former owner anyway. If my dear step-Da is lucky, I might not burn it to the ground.
The door to his office is partially closed. Without even pausing, I push it open the rest of the way and keep walking in. Sheehan sits behind his desk with his gaze focused on a stack of papers in front of him. He jerks his head up at the intrusion, taking in the two men who follow and flank me on both sides. His eyes narrow, and his lips curl in a familiar sneer that fans the flames of my hatred.
“Always the uncouth mongrel, aren’t we, Liam? Barging into a man’s home like he’s the king of the place. Couldn’t even come alone, like a real man. Worried I might teach you some of the same lessons I did when you were a little brat?”
His insults roll right off me. I merely offer a faint smile, because there’d been a slight waver of apprehension—of fear—behind them. So slight, I’m not sure if anyone besides me took note of it. I stride closer, unbutton my suit jacket, and take a seat across from him. In a lazy gesture, I sit back and cross my ankle over my knee. Sheehan bristles at my lack of reaction and the disrespect.
“I’m going to give you two choices.” I stare straight into his eyes. “You can vacate the premises with your pride barely intact or when my men drag your corpse out of it.”
Red climbs up his porcine face, giving his cheeks a ruddy appearance. His eyes flash with rage. “You dare come into my house and threaten me? I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with. You’re a dead man.”
Sheehan jerks open a side drawer, but before he can bring out the gun he keeps stored in it, there are two weapons trained on him. His eyes widen, and he slowly brings his hands up to rest on the desk surface.
“You see, Dónal.” I rise from my chair and casually button my jacket. “While you’ve been losing your fortune, I’ve been amassing mine.”
