I’d like to see him try. Really. I would. It’d be hot as hell. I needed his gun, and I needed it immediately. The illusion that Julian hadn’t kidnapped me and I merely waited for his company while hanging out in his apartment—it was wrong. If my mom knew, she would surely have taken his gun and killed me herself. Hell, she’s probably looking down on me with the biggest disappointment on her pretty face.
“Are you listening to me?” Julian snapped, his voice deep with irritation. Had he said something after “gag,” because in all honesty, that’s all I heard.
“I wasn’t,” I admitted, not caring it’d go on his list of things for which to end me, “but I am going to ask you one thing.”
“What is it, my darling Aideen?” His tone lightened while greeting people in the background, already beginning to demonstrate his farce.
“Well, my wonderful and completely hospitable kidnapper,” I mocked his chipper, pretentiously artificial tone, “when you come home to me this evening, I was wondering if you’d find the time to enlighten me more about why the hell I am actually even here. Maybe?”
“I keep the gag in my closet. Get it out for me ahead of my arrival.” Julian laughed in response to my silence. “You need a sense of humor, Aideen.”
“I lost it when you kidnapped me. Remember that?”
“Third best day of my life. And yes, we have much to discuss. I won’t be home this evening, but in the meantime, look in the box. I’ve left you some things. I ordered some food over for you since you hadn’t touched dinner. You’ll find some clothes for the evening in my bathroom and…are you listening, babby?” I wasn’t. I hadn’t been. My eyes were fixed on the contents of the navy velvet box. Inside the cushion of tissue paper rested a bottle of wine, a small glass, a menu listing all the delivered food, and a list of movies available on Julian’s cable network. It was like a hotel, but I was far from relaxed and pampered.
“You trust me enough to leave me alone here?”
“Of course not,” Julian scoffed. For a moment, I thought maybe he had a soul, something buried deep beneath the perfect hair and sparkling smile that recognized I was simply a girl with bad luck. Of course not. I supposed it was fair. After all, I trusted Julian Molloy as far as I could throw a softball, which was directly to my feet.
“And here I thought maybe…”
“I have the house programmed on my phone. I know precisely what’s happening in my home when I’m not there. I know you’re still in the living room. How do you like that blanket? I imagined with the blizzard, and all alone, you’d feel quite cold.” I spun at the sound of the gas fireplace clicking on, a bright blue flame quick to fill the dark chamber in which it burned. It was truly beautiful, radiating hues of amber and cerulean against the dark hearth.
“You’re watching me.”
“I wouldn’t entirely invade your privacy like that,” he whispered. “The bathroom tonight was because I can’t trust my brother.”
“I don’t trust either of you.” I hung up the phone, tossed it into the box, and glowered at the burning fireplace across from me. With arms tightly crossed along my chest, I fumed. The horrid device beeped from within the box and I, regretfully, peered in at it. The jerk texted me.
Julian: I look forward to finding that gag. ;)
My foot violently tapped against the floor while I stuck my tongue out at his pathetic winking smile on the text message. I didn’t need him to turn on the fireplace. I was hot enough, boiling. I glared at the box until my temples throbbed. Sighing in a huff, I tore the blanket and box from the couch and dumped them on the floor. My body was weak, feeling utterly exhausted despite having slept for hours. In his bed. I refused to return to that room, even though I was curious to see what pathetic attire he purchased for my stay. I could’ve screamed. I would’ve, had I wished to give him the enjoyment. The last thing I wanted was to please Julian Molloy. I didn’t need his smile flashing through my mind before falling asleep. Falling asleep. How am I going to do that here?
The couch beckoned my aching soul. I tried to rationalize with myself through the internal debate of whether or not to fall asleep inside Julian Molloy’s house. Technically, I already did that, and I was still alive. Fine. But you don’t win yet, Molloy. I bent over, collecting the thick, petal soft blanket that Julian had gifted me for the evening, and wrapped it around me.
The couch was comfortable. Too comfortable. I sank with pleasure into the consuming cushions, only waiting moments for sleep to come, but the television clicked on. I didn’t touch a remote; I had no desire to watch anything. Damn Molloy. The phone buzzed again. Don’t look. Don’t look. Ugh, moron. You’re going to look. And…you’re looking.
Julian: I thought you’d enjoy this movie as you drift. Sweet dreams.
Holding the phone in my left hand, I looked at the television screen mounted above his fireplace. I recognized the opening scene immediately, my nostalgic mind capturing the memory of watching the movie as a child. He is one sick bastard.
As the ominously beautiful melody of the depressing prologue continued, I wished I never watched a fairytale film. My eyes rolled around with disgust and disdain, the pain adding to my throbbing mind, while Beauty and the Beast proceeded on Julian’s television. This wasn’t a film to watch before bed; this was the anthem for Stockholm syndrome, and he knew exactly what he was doing. From his ivory tower of wealth and status, Julian Molloy mocked me, ridiculing and reminding me of his supreme power. We’ll see how long it lasts.
I rolled over, my back facing the television, and pulled the soft blanket over my head. I refuse to go back to his bed. The blanket was a warm hug. It also smelled like Julian, which was terribly antagonizing. I can’t sleep like this. But I did, somehow, and despite humming along to the familiar soundtrack and pretending not to be in love with that movie while hating its message and mockery, my mind settled enough to allow me to drift.
I didn’t dream. My mind was blank and, despite the entire day having wrecked and destroyed the fibers of my brain, I couldn’t create a thought. I was unable to fathom and process, filled with only air and exhaustion.
I knew I was finally able to dream when my eyes fluttered open in response to the sensuous aroma swirling around me. A powerful calming scent weighed on my fried nerves, freeing the anxiety prohibiting my imagination from processing, and stirred me. I barely blinked, too tired to move wiggling eyelashes around lonely, tired blue eyes. My left arm felt heavy, squished between my body and the couch. But I fell asleep on my right side. I dropped my head, heavy with gravity, while my body pressed into the warm couch. It smells so nice.
My nose itched, wiggling as I lifted my right hand to rub against the tickle. My hair fell over my face, moving in a soft breeze. It was warm. Too warm. I let my body sink into the mattress, nestled comfortably into the luxury—wait. My eyes tore open, glancing at my hand resting on a fluffy white comforter. They widened beyond belief, filled with alarm when I noticed Julian sitting in an armchair next to me. He leaned forward, his hands settled against his combed hair while his elbows rested on his knees. Squinting, I struggled to see if he was asleep like that or merely thinking. I held my breath, sealing my eyes again, once his fingers combed through his hair. I heard his palms slap against his thighs, assuring me he was not asleep.
“You’re back,” I croaked from the safety of his bed. Hardly. His bed was far from safe.
“You’re awake.” I heard his weight shift.
“What time is it?”
“Four.”
“Why did you bring me in here?”
“That couch is awful,” he muttered. “You deserve to be rested, Aideen.”
I pulled the pillow from my face, catching Julian gaze at me with a kind smile. It was soft, almost paternal and endearing, but I quickly shook that notion from my mind. I debated whether to run or burrow further into the covers when his posture shifted and Julian’s back pressed against the rear of his chair. The fingers of his right hand mindlessly lifted to his lips and stroked the skin of his soft pout while deep in thought.
“I came home about an hour ago,” he informed me, staring at the bundle of covers around me. “You wouldn’t wake up, you were so soundly asleep. It was precious, really, but I couldn’t let you stay on that couch all night.”
“I guess there’s a soul in there somewhere.”
“I’m glad you finally see it.” He laughed, standing from his chair and undoing the black tie around his neck. “I brought you in here to sleep. I apologize if I woke you.” Julian’s banter was distracting; it was disarming and entirely alarming at the same time. Wake up, Aideen.
“Don’t touch me while I’m asleep ever again,” I warned with a glare, “and where were you planning on sleeping?”
“The couch. I’m a gentleman, Miss Leary. I might have kidnapped you, but I wouldn’t share a bed with you without your explicit permission.” I laughed. Out loud. A small, scoffing giggle rippled from my lips, and I felt my cheeks burn.
“Gentleman and kidnapper are not synonymous, Mr. Molloy.”
“They are with me, darling. I’ll take you home in the morning.”
“It is morning.”
Julian chuckled, his long fingers pulling along his exhausted face. “You’re right. Coffee then?”
“You won’t poison me?”
“No. That’s an awfully excruciating way to go. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Wow. That’s some promise.
“You aren’t going to tie me up in there again,” I paused, examining the hands he held out to me while standing next to his bed, “or make me look at your brother?” Because he is beautiful. And so are you. I mean…brain, seriously. I’m about to request that Julian kill you. Julian’s face scrunched in confusion, his brows met tightly above dark eyes.
“My brother? Please.” Julian’s head shook, again reaching for my hands. “I lost track of him two hours ago. And I won’t tie you up unless you want me to.”
My mouth was a gaping donut in the middle of my face, watching Julian’s mouth widen with a sparkling, amused smile as he attempted to casually slip his last comment into our conversation. I hate this man. I brushed past his hands, his comforter wrapped around me, and wandered toward the kitchen. The foyer and hall were as dark as I remembered from last night. Before he carried me, without permission, into his bed. I spent the night in Julian Molloy’s bed. Elliott would die. Wait. Elliott will die because I will kill him for all of this.
“Holy fu—” My hands tightened around the comforter as I entered the dimly lit kitchen. I felt Julian’s hands press against my shoulders, gently attempting to guide me further into the space.
“Mr. Ferrell was just leaving,” Julian stated, referring to the frighteningly stiff man standing in the center of the room. His arms were tightly crossed, the silhouette of his gun reflecting the soft glow from the light dangling above Julian’s kitchen table. It was securely held in his hand, pressed between his grasp and his powerful chest. Julian recognized I wasn’t budging and squeezed sideways between my frozen form and the doorway to enter the kitchen and effortlessly perform his domestic duties. He collected honey, two mugs, and ground coffee beans. I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat, thankful part of my body still functioned. Julian’s gaze lifted to mine, his head turning from the opposite direction to acknowledge me while holding the coffee grounds. He must have sensed me staring because an amused smile flirted with his mouth.
“You’re dismissed, Ferrell,” Julian announced, still looking at me. “Miss Leary will step out of the doorway for you.”
“What? Oh.” I blushed, inching into the room so Mr. Intimidator could bypass me. He grumbled something while walking by me, muttering beneath his breath.
“It amuses me how frightened you get, babby, yet you seem much more comfortable here now.” Julian returned to preparing the tools and ingredients for our coffee. “I hope that’s the case.”
“Far from it,” I scoffed, closing myself off by wrapping the blanket more securely around myself. “I hate you and I trust you even less than Mr. Ferrell.”
“You wound me, Aideen. What have I ever done to deserve those words?” Julian spun around to face me, his hands slipped into the pockets of his pants and ankles crossed, casually awaiting my response.
“You’re kidding.”
Julian’s lips pulled into a debilitating grin, his eyebrows lifted in humor. “I am.” Fucking frightening. Yet somehow, I walked further into the kitchen.
“A soul and a fucked-up sense of humor? You’re ideal, Mr. Molloy.”
“Ah.” He laughed. “A fucked-up soul and a fucked-up sense of humor. You’ll make it, I’ll sit, and we can talk.” Finally.
Glaring at Julian, I took the Bialetti from his counter and prepared the coffee. I knew what he wanted: a honey latte. His favorite. Copycat. So unoriginal. It was a challenge to prepare our coffees without dropping the blanket, but I was freezing and wanted to keep some form of barrier between us—even if it was just cotton and feathers, it still protected me. I heard Julian sigh while moving to his fridge and sorting through things, his knees cracking while he squatted. I could’ve kicked the fridge and knocked him out, sending him tumbling to the floor, but part of me didn’t want to do that. For now.
“So,” I grumbled, “you have a very deranged taste in film.” My comment was rewarded with Julian’s soft laughter from behind the fridge door.
“You’re not a fairytale fan?”
“I’m not a fan of your games,” I quipped, pulling the boiling Bialetti from the stovetop and pouring steaming coffee into the two ceramic mugs on the counter. I noticed the fridge door close in my periphery, with Julian floating back and forth around the kitchen table. I used a silver spoon to stir the honey and coffee together, reaching for the carton of milk Julian previously set out for me. Almond milk. What is his plan here? Seduce me with dairy-free food and then kill me? What a way to go. I collected our cups in one hand and secured the blanket around my body with the other, observing Julian already sitting in his chair at the head of the table.
“I’m not playing games,” he informed me, his features impassive and inscrutable. His right fingers rubbed across his mouth and chin while in thought, watching my hesitant approach. I refused to reply and bit my tongue while nervously sitting at his side, where Liam dined the previous evening, not wishing to sit in the chair to which I had been tied. A tapping sound alarmed both of us, our attention quickly spinning to the frozen windows of his kitchen.
“Sleet,” I groaned while Julian took his cup from my cold hand. Julian’s smiling eyes from behind the rim of his coffee mug were all I needed as a response. I was lost in a fleeting daydream, pretending I was free. My eyes wandered from side to side, not really looking at anything, but simply moving to keep my mind awake. I was mute, silently waiting for Julian to speak. When his throat cleared, my gaze snapped to him, watching his forearms lean against the edge of the table while his body tilted toward me. Tension radiated throughout my skin as I grasped my mug.
“Aideen,” Julian murmured, pausing when my hand moved from his caress.
“You’re too comfortable touching me,” I whispered, glancing up at the dark circles beneath his hollow blue eyes. “Where were you all night?”
“You’re too comfortable asking me things.” His smile ripped me to shreds, as he surely knew. “As far as touching you is concerned, I plan on doing it. I’m going to do it a lot, far more than you’d probably like, but that’s because to the outside world, I am a kind, wonderful, charming man.” I understood in here, he was the opposite. I raised my eyebrows with wariness, analyzing the grin along his face. It tugged a foreign piece of my soul, willing my curiosity to keep me there. It must be that damn dream.
Julian was far too fancy to look so worn and raw, consumed with exhaustion, and yet he still had time for me. Don’t get ahead of yourself, princess. He licked his lips, sending the fluttering vision straight to my stomach, slowly killing me, before he uttered another word.
“There’s a connection between Malcolm trying to kill you and my family’s reputation.”
“Something tells me you want to tell me more,” I probed, mesmerized by his long fingers while they tapped against his mug, “but you won’t.”
“Not until I know the connection. Your mind is as desirable as I thought.” Julian’s eyes passed to the window before returning to me. “Looks like we’ll be inside for a while longer.”