I narrowed my gaze against Julian so tightly I felt dizzy, fighting every urge to reach across the table and strangle him. It’d be a shame for the world to lose such eye candy, honey. Oh, mind. I’m going to kill you before I kill him.
Julian’s shirt was undone at his collar, the first two buttons revealing his skin, taking my tired and twisted mind to places it shouldn’t go. His slacks were still pressed, as though he stood all evening.
“Tell me,” I begged, inching closer toward him. “You’re holding me a prisoner. You’re teasing and threatening, you’re destroying me. You have to tell me.” His expression tightened, stiffly displaying his resistance. I moved closer, my chest caving while a trembling breath threatened my lungs. Don’t cry, Aideen. Just don’t. Think of puppies or pizza, or even that yummy glass of wine you had last week. Think of anything but crying. Sure enough, the moment my senses heightened with his proximity, as Julian’s hands reached out and held my elbows buried within his comforter, tears poured down my cheeks, exposing myself to the stranger, a villain.
His whisper was gentle, but I couldn’t stop. My face shot up toward him, scowling at the disgust I felt for falling under his momentary control, playing perfectly into his game. The comforter fell from my arms, landing gently against the dark hardwood floor, and I swung. I let my pathetic little fist smack right into the absurdly hard wall of Julian’s abdomen. He barely let out a breath. In fact, I think he laughed. The jerk is smiling at me. Teeth and all. That only fueled my anger, inciting the rage I felt toward him. I kept swinging, resisting his attempt to control my wrists.
“Fuck you!” I screamed, swinging my fists into his muscular frame, hoping to find some weakness, but I couldn’t. I pulled my hands away, thinking for a moment of what to do. I had a split second. I couldn’t run; he was reaching for my wrists. My right hand took control and lifted, burning with the painful contact of Julian’s face.
I gasped and stepped back to watch in fear as his left palm stroked the skin I marred. Julian’s long fingers rubbed his jaw while his head shook in disbelief. My eyes widened and I turned, flying back through the hallway and into Julian’s bedroom. I flew into his attached bathroom, locking the door behind me, and fell against the jute rug decorating the floor.
The doorknob rattled while he demanded my name. “Please open the door.” Sure. Not!
“Aideen,” he pressed, the door banging with his weight. Is he sitting down? Maybe he’ll fall asleep and I can escape.
“No,” I sobbed, my voice muffled against the floor. The air was void of words; the only sound penetrating my throbbing mind was the rustle of Julian’s body against the door.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered through the space between the floor and the imposing panel. “I promised you. I’m not mad at you for what you did. Come out so we can talk.” I squeezed my hands around my head, hoping to stop the ache, wishing to keep his voice from entering my mind. His plea tugged that foreign feeling once more. What is happening?
“I don’t beg. Come out.” No. I wanted to vomit everywhere, all over his pristine bathroom. I have to do something fun before I die.
“I know your head is starting to hurt. Take the pill I left for you and come out.” I worried he implanted a microchip into my brain while sleeping last night. How does this villainous wizard know about my head?
“Go away.”
“This is my house, babby.” His tone lightened. “I’m not going anywhere while you’re here.”
“Then start talking,” I demanded through muffled sobs, lifting my head from the floor. I’ve never known jute to be so soft. The door wiggled again, and light flickered from beneath the door, suggesting Julian moved. I faintly discerned his hand against the floor. Something bopped against the door, and a deep sigh followed suit. He’s either annoyed as hell or willing to talk.
“The public doesn’t know yet, but my grandfather isn’t seeking another term in the Senate,” he murmured against the door. “He’s a dinosaur, Aideen, but disastrously powerful. My father won’t take the seat, so my family placed me in line as heir of his political dynasty, our political dynasty. The Molloy reputation carries a heavy burden and…”
“Keep talking.”
His voice was low and eerily patient. “They want me to marry Noelle, and I won’t. If anyone saw you and I were together when I brought you here, knowing the rumors of an alignment between my family and Noelle’s, it would be a terrible scar against my reputation.”
“So you kidnapped me to protect your ego?”
“Hardly,” he scoffed, with a small laugh. “You’re here because, despite your popular belief, I don’t want you to die. Take the pill, Aideen. It’s just a pain pill.”
“Keep talking, Molloy.”
“Can I do this while looking at you?”
“You’ll need to break down your fancy bathroom door because I’m not going anywhere and you’re not coming in without my permission.” Julian didn’t respond, worrying me. Moments later, the doorknob wiggled, ticking with the sound of a key. A key? Still pressing my body against the ground, cowering like a child, I glanced up as Julian entered. The cuffs of his dress shirt were folded up again, displaying his powerful forearms and fleeting glimpses of his decorated skin. He quickly knelt at my side, concern masking his chiseled face, and reached for me.
“Don’t touch me,” I warned. “I’ll be fine. You had a key this whole time?”
“Of course I did. It’s my bathroom.” I scooted away from him, my back hitting the bathtub.
Julian looked away, giving me nothing but his profile. Is he…blushing? His eyes infused with concern when they returned to mine. He crawled toward me on his knees before his palms reached for my face, delicately holding my cheeks in his possession. I didn’t know where to look, what to say, how to breathe anything but him.
“You have every right to be angry with me.”
“I didn’t sign your contract.”
Julian’s fingertips pressed into my hair, and his right thumb caressed my cheek, while eyes of squinting blue gave way to the smile flirting with his façade. “I must trust you.”
“I don’t do that,” Julian whispered, his hands dropping from my face. “So take that as a warning, if you will.” Oh, whew. I was worried the threats and intimidation subsided. Glad we’re back to normal around here.
“I want to go home,” I grumbled as Julian stood and scoured through a basket on the counter. He turned to me, holding a folded towel and some clothes.
“Take a bath. You’ll feel better. I’m going to sleep. And Aideen,” his grin returned, threatening me with the sparkle of his perfect teeth, “don’t try and kill me.”
I flashed Julian two thumbs up, mocking him with a wide smile. Stupid, arrogant bastard. I will find a way. I sat against the bathtub while Julian went into his bedroom, flopping onto his mattress fully clothed. There is a god. I waited for him to snore or give me some sign of sleep, because I refused to move until I knew he couldn’t watch me.
I think I ate half of my thumb while sitting on the bathroom floor, falling asleep against the side of his tub. He had to be sleeping by the time I stood up. My legs ached and cracked as I walked toward the bathroom door. Peering into the silent space, I noticed Julian lying at an angle across the top of his mattress. Bright, reflective light from the rising sun peered in through the ice-covered windows.
I tiptoed into his bedroom, heart pounding through my ears with warning. Julian had a pillow over his face, allowing me full vision of his body, his gun-less body. Anyone else would have been mesmerized, enchanted by the strapping figure sleeping soundly inches from me. I could smother him to death. Where is his gun? I’ve shot a gun before. I could do it. Nobody would know and I could get a head start. I scanned his body, from his bare feet to the tattooed D on his wrist that was exposed while his arm pressed onto the pillow covering his face. He does have a pretty face. It’d be so sad to blow it apart. Oh my God. This isn’t me. I’m not like him. I don’t think those things. I studied the pillow, watching it slowly lift with his deep breaths. Maybe I could just suffocate him.
I searched the space around Julian’s bed, my eyes caught with petrifying excitement by the silver greeting atop his nightstand. There it rested, the first tool of intimidation, simply waiting for my fingers to wrap around its trigger. Shaking my head, I turned from Julian’s bed. I’m not like this.
I quickly tiptoed in retreat, reaching for the bedroom door when his voice stopped me. “Why? Why didn’t you kill me?” Julian tossed the pillow from his head and rested against his elbows, studying me in the doorway.
“Because,” I swallowed, avoiding his gaze as I turned to him, “you trust me.” Arrogant dick. Because I’m not like you! I’m not a lying, kidnapping, secretive killer, Senator-wanna-be.
“It’s a heavy burden. Isn’t it, Aideen? Trusting someone with your life.” His eyes glowed, hauntingly empty and full of a pulsating light that beckoned my soul.
“Was that a test?” I spun around, crossing my arms defensively. “Another game?”
Julian rolled onto his side, slowly lifting to sit at the foot of his mattress while motioning for me to come closer. I shook my head, stubbornly remaining in the doorway, keeping a distance from how ridiculously handsome he appeared disheveled and sleep-deprived.
“I’m not playing games, Aideen,” he declared. “Trust isn’t given. It’s earned. And it comes with a price.”
“So does knowing you, I gather. I’m leaving once this storm is over.” I left his bedroom as tears threatened my eyes once more, falling victim to the stress that small glimpse into Julian’s world caused me. What world? Politics? Ha. Get your head on straight. I was meant to open the coffee shop that morning. It doesn’t matter. For one, only crazies are marching through a blizzard for coffee, and two, I doubt that’s a priority of Julian’s right now.
The living room was undisturbed, like a museum exhibit of my night on the couch, a time capsule. The box was on the coffee table, the stupid phone was on the floor, and the world’s most comfortable blanket was on the couch. Right where Julian left it when he carried me to his bed. Oh, Lord.
I paced the living room, wrapped in the blanket, until my feet hurt. The fireplace was still burning, its blue and orange display again hypnotizing me. I sat there for at least an hour, lost in the glow, while my overwhelmed mind emptied. I only knew it was an hour because, true to the routine of waking up so early, my stomach rumbled like clockwork. I snapped from my daze when the fire stopped, its burning and warmth ceasing to exist. A shiver tore through me at the sound of padding bare feet behind me. I turned, almost losing consciousness.
“Malcolm Young wants you dead, and I don’t,” Julian muttered, shrugging his broad shoulders while entering the living room. Oh, fuck. Lord, Jesus, Buddha. Just. No. Stop.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He laughed. Um…because you’re only wearing sweatpants and you’re gorgeous?
“You need to put on some clothes.” I turned away, covering my face with the blanket. I heard Julian nestle into the couch behind me, clearly in no hurry to cover his bare abdomen. How many tattoos does he have? Holy shit. He has a cute belly but—STOP!
“Turn around, Aideen.”
“What do you want?” I snapped, following his direction with little patience.
“Get used to it, babby.” He winked at me, biting his bottom lip. “You’re going to be seeing a lot of me in a variety of stages of attire if this blizzard continues.”
“Which reminds me,” I sighed, spinning away from his heavy stare, “I need to get to work…and back to my real life.” I marched to the Irish-American beast and his fantastically well-defined body that melted my insides, wishing he was a repulsive bastard, and pointed my index finger at him.
Julian leaned forward, officially turning my insides to mush, and kissed the tip of my pointed finger. That did it. I threw the blanket from my body and smothered Julian before I punched his abdomen as hard as I could muster.
“Give it to me, Aideen,” he mocked, pulling the blanket from his face. “Let it out. You’re not going to kill me, just like I’m not going to kill you. The difference between us is that I also refuse to physically harm you. I would never hurt you. Trust me. But here you are, refusing every respectful thing I have done, and now you’re trying to beat me.” Julian’s hands locked around my head, pulling my face so I was leaning over his body.
“What are the tallies for?” I kept my narrowed, wild eyes locked on his while he held me. I’d counted before swinging. His chiseled collarbone was gracefully adorned with tallies, reminders of something. Inside, despite wishing against it, I knew what those six marks meant. I don’t want to be his seventh.
“You’ve killed six people and you want me to trust you won’t do the same to me? You’re keeping me here, putting me off, telling me someone wants me dead, when the real murderer is you.
“The Senate,” I scoffed, struggling to pull my head from his resilient grasp. “Tell me the truth. If you trust me, tell me.”
“It’s not like that.” The glow around his eyes faded. “You’re on the edge with this. I regret letting you watch a fairytale last night. Your mind is a mess from it.” Wow.
“I’m never speaking to you again.”
“You’ll have to in public.” He mimicked my sneer. “Unless you want Malcolm to kill you. Which, again, Aideen, is something I do not want. Stop fighting me and just listen!” Julian didn’t flinch, remaining unfazed while my tears dribbled over his hands.
“I never want to be the cause of your tears,” he muttered, releasing his hands from my face, slowly wiping my cheeks. His right hand combed through the mess of hair sticking to my jaw, gently placing it behind my ear while he examined my face. Julian’s palm stopped against my cheek, but this time his pressure was soft, supportive.
“Right now, I can only ask that you trust me.” And there, I vowed not to speak to Julian Molloy until hell froze over and I began exercising for pleasure.