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I have nothing else to say to Killian. He hadn’t denied whatever he thought Blair had told me. Hadn’t tried to explain. So it had to be true. I don’t know what to make of that. On the one hand, I knew who he was before we’d even met. On the other…I’m not exactly sure what I’d been expecting tonight. Maybe something that would be bad enough to end this facade of a truce and get me out of the marriage entirely. It had been a far-fetched chance, and I should have known better than to expect that it would work.
And confirming my fears had changed nothing.
“Why were you at The Salamander that first night?” His question comes out of nowhere, so I’m not prepared.
“What?”
“The night we actually first met. Why were you there?” He’s watching me closely. The street is lit well enough that I can make out the curiosity in his eyes beneath lowered lashes. That look alone sent heat fluttering in my stomach. I ignore it.
“Silent treatment, huh?”
“You did just have your hand around my throat a few minutes ago,” I spit.
He seems amused, which only makes me angrier. I turn to him, jabbing my finger into his chest so hard he’s forced to back up a step. His eyebrows shoot up, mouth parting, but before he can get even one more obnoxious word out of his mouth, I’m talking. “If you think you can threaten me and get away with it, think again,” I hiss, jabbing his chest to punctuate each word. It felt like poking pure goddamn stone. “You don’t own me. And you won’t ever lay your hands on me like that.”
He steps forward, leaning closer to my ear. “Yet.”
“What?” My head whips toward him, finding him mere centimeters away. If I leaned forward just the tiniest bit, our lips would brush.
“I don’t own you yet,” he repeats. “But I will.” His words hold a dark promise, one that causes my breath to hitch and sweat to prick my palms.
I back up slowly, caught in his gaze as he waits for my reply. My eyes flick down to my knife on the sidewalk, too far away for me to get. Before my hand can dip back into my bag for my fake lipstick, Killian catches my wrist. This time, he’s more gentle, but still firm. He forces me back a few steps until I feel the rough brick of the building behind me against my shoulders.
He cages me in, my wrist pinned to the wall. “You won’t win this little game, Cara. I will break you. And when I do, you’ll be begging for me to touch you.”
I suck in a breath, ready to fight back, but he’s already gone. He stalks back towards the club, leaving me in the shadows to fend for myself. My fingers finally grip the last hidden blade in my purse as my heart thumps wildly in my chest. He knew just how to rattle me and liked it. I knew somewhere deep inside his twisted black heart he enjoyed watching me squirm.
This is all a game to him, just like everything else was. Something he can pass the time with to amuse him when he’s bored. By his side, I’m nothing but a pawn to be used and discarded whenever he damned well pleased. It’s all a fucking game. The only problem with that?
This isn’t just some passing entertainment. It’s my fucking life.
18
KILLIAN
Two days of drinking after staying off the bottle for about a year was probably not my best idea. My head pounds the next morning, throbbing as the pale sunlight filters in through my tinted windows. Gritting my teeth, I reach for my phone on the bedside table, swiping it open to check for any messages from Dante. It was day two, and there was no way there wouldn’t be an update by now.
I’m right. Dante’s name is at the top of the screen. I quickly tap on the messages, pulling them up. My eyes scan them quickly, mixed feelings roiling in my stomach. Or was that the leftover alcohol from two nights ago? The counter-attack had apparently been successful, but Dante wanted me to head over to his place in about an hour.
Tossing the covers back, I slowly get to my feet, feeling lightheaded. Yeah, going out last night had definitely been a bad idea. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known that my fucking fiancée was running around like a goddamn FBI agent digging into my past. That still pisses me off, even now, hours later. She has no right to rifle through my life like that just to satisfy whatever curiosity she might have. And God only knows what that backstabbing bitch Blair had told her.
I’m starting to realize that Blair coming back now—of all times—was going to cause some problems. She still had it in her twisted little head that we might still work out even after what she did. There’s no way in hell I’m falling for that act twice, though. Maybe Old Killian might have once. But not now. Blair would realize soon enough that I’m not to be messed with.
I start towards the shower, jumping in quickly, seeing as I only had an hour to drive halfway across the city to get to Dante’s and Sienna’s house out on Long Island. Our father had owned a mansion out there for years, but after his death, neither Dante nor I wanted to keep it. That place held only darkness, and I’d been glad to sell it right off. They’d bought a new house in a nearby neighborhood before they had their little girl, a safe haven where she could grow up away from the chaos of the city.
Pulling on a fresh gray shirt and jeans, I quickly slide a comb through my hair, adding some gel to keep that freshly washed look. Grabbing a leather jacket, I sling it on, along with my gun, as I headed out the front door. Niccolo’s at my side the minute the elevator doors open. He wears the same black suit every day, complete with an obnoxiously red tie that’s currently making my eyes burn just looking at it.
“Do you happen to own anything else?” I ask, pointedly glaring at the tie.
His face flushes scarlet as his fingers work at the knot. The offending material slides from around his neck, and he stuffs it into his suit pocket. “I’ll go shopping for more ties today, sir.”
“See that you do. Red’s not your color.” I stalk past him out the lobby doors.
Niccolo is a good man, if not a little too eager to prove himself. He’s my age, the grand twenty-five, and nearly my size. With his dark hair and tanned skin, my brother thought he’d be the perfect double in case I ever needed one. Not that I do. Niccolo is mainly here to be an extra set of eyes just in case. I can’t deny that I actually enjoy his company most days.
Today though, is not one of those days.
“The driver is pulling around now, sir,” Niccolo tells me. His voice makes my head pound, and I squint against the sunlight as we wait on the sidewalk.
