by Fiona Keane
“Do you want something or not, Liam?” Julian nearly hissed toward his brother while he reached for his phone and dialed. “Vincent? Go to DeMarini’s.”
“Oh, DeMarini’s.” Liam chuckled, reclining in the comfort of the armchair over which he tossed his coat, lifting his feet onto the accompanying ottoman. “Count me in.”
I glanced at Julian, observing the scowl on his face while returning to his phone call. His eyes fixed to mine, holding me powerless in response for the duration of his conversation with Vincent. I listened to Julian place an order, noting his request of no dairy in some items. Something about his attention to that detail left me feeling uneasy.
“Mr. Molloy.” I blinked, my voice quiet. “May I use the restroom?”
“Yes.” They answered in unison, Liam smiling while Julian’s lips remained stoically sealed. Julian dropped his phone on the coffee table, the clanking noise vibrating throughout the room, while a heavy sigh left his lungs. He walked toward me, placing his hand at the small of my back.
“Right this way,” he whispered, guiding me into the hallway. I glanced to my left at the kitchen doorway, thinking about how half an hour prior I was tied to a chair before making him coffee as though that hadn’t happened. Pausing in his tracks and pulling my attention slowly to his face, I noticed Julian’s expression was deceptively serene as his bottom lip pressed between his teeth, as though deep in thought.
“I find you entirely perplexing, Aideen,” he whispered as his fingertips grazed my jaw.
“I find you’re growing far too comfortable touching me, Mr. Molloy.” I shivered, the tickling sensation of his touch echoing through my skin in a searing thrill, a release of something dangerously inciting. He squinted, the deep blue becoming a thin line as he watched me, and released his touch.
“The bathroom is just this way.” He motioned down the hallway in the direction of the front door, waiting for my steps to begin. I approached the doorway as Julian reached inside to illuminate the radiant stained glass fixture on the ceiling. The room was blindingly white, crisp, and bright, like the snow barricading the exits of his building. There was no escape. Thick layers of snow accumulated against the frosted glass window above the claw-foot bathtub, suffocating the view. I slowly entered, marveling at the marble that consumed every inch of the room. I let my eyes wander up from the floor, catching Julian’s gaze in the mirror while he stood behind me, his hands pressed into his pockets.
“Privacy?”
“That’s a privilege.”
“It’s the least you can do.” I spun around, glaring at him. I didn’t want to suggest to him that he owed me anything because I knew his response would be some threat, some vague reminder of his intimidating power over me for something I had done in a prior life…Elliott?
Chapter Eleven
Elliott. This must be his fault. The pieces of their deranged puzzle assembled.
“You’re going to wait outside,” I informed my captor, “and then you’re going to tell me why I’m here.”
“Or,” Julian smiled in the doorway, a grin that mocked my confidence, “you can use the loo.”
“Hey,” Liam joined the exchange while he approached the doorway, standing next to Julian, “I don’t mean to break up the party, but I need to take a wicked piss.”
“Jesus, Liam,” Julian snapped, his head spinning toward his brother. “There’s a fucking lady present.”
“A fucking lady, and you’re dropping bombs like that and not letting her take a piss either? She’s welcome at my house if this is how you treat your guests.”
I cleared my throat, quieting their bout. “With all due respect, I know I’m not a guest and this fucking lady would also like to take a fucking piss. Please.”
With a beaming smile that rivaled his brother’s, Liam shoved Julian from the doorway, tipping his head at me before pulling the door closed. The instant I heard the door latch, I fell against the side of the tub, my fingers tearing at the fabric of my sweater, hoping to grasp the pounding throb of my heart.
I frantically waved my hands in the air, fanning me, or maybe requesting help from my invisible friends. I wasn’t sure; I didn’t have the brainpower to wonder. I was alone. Sort of. Is this a panic attack? Shouldn’t I be scheming ways to escape this hell hole of abundant luxury? It wouldn’t have mattered if there was an accessible window in the bathroom—I remembered the elevator ride ascending several floors, and I wouldn’t be caught dead scaling his building in a blizzard. Well, you would be caught dead if you did that, moron. Even my subconscious despises me.
“Miss Leary,” Liam muttered from beyond the panel while his knuckles tapped three times. “You haven’t killed yourself yet, I’m hoping.”
And screw you too, new Molloy. I decided not to respond, considering I was hyperventilating and unable to breathe. My options were limited. Julian had no intention of releasing me, at least not yet, and now his vulgar, just as breathtakingly handsome, brother joined in the party. Screw my life.
“Miss Leary?” Still can’t breathe, numb nuts. I tried to calm myself, thinking of Liam while he called my name. He looked like a shamrock. A cute shamrock. Ew. Hell no. Cute? Maybe I should end it all right here if I’m going to be thinking shit like that.
“Miss Lea—” The door flew open, and Liam poured into the space. His feet stopped when he noticed my blue skin and wide eyes filled with tears. He kicked the door closed without looking behind him and approached me, his hands defensively positioned in front of him.
“My dear,” he whispered, “you’re suffocating yourself. That’s no way to go. You should at least wait until you’re asleep.”
My eyes widened, if even possible, while he joined me against the edge of the bathtub. His right palm pressed against my back, slowly spinning itself in circles to calm me or hypnotize me into submission.
“You haven’t gone yet, have you?”
I shook my head, my body rigid beneath his touch while his palm continued to draw along my back. I found myself frantic, fearful, and wishing for Julian to return. Damn Stockholm. At least I knew how to mess with Julian, kind of; his brother was a puzzle. He seriously gave me suggestions for how to kill myself while stroking my back. I’m so confused. And hungry. And I still have to pee.
“I didn’t really need to use it,” he murmured. “I was just trying to get Julian to give you a minute. The bastard can be a little overbearing at times. Comes with being the favorite, I suppose. Arrogance and power. Oh, damn. There goes my mouth again. Look…I…we got off on the wrong foot before.”
Before? His stupid palm helped, distracting my mind enough to let my body breathe. I hate these wizards. Liam slipped from the side of the tub, squatting below me on the marble floor. I found it peculiar that Julian didn’t have a rug or bath mat in the room. Perhaps he doesn’t use it. Perhaps he doesn’t shower here…or live here…and this is all a front for something much more sinister. I need to stop reading books.
“At my uncle’s birthday,” Liam said, his soft blue eyes scanning my face, surely wondering why it hadn’t returned to its clammy alabaster, “when you fell, I was in the room with Julian. I don’t know when you came to, but I didn’t say the kindest things to you. I regret that I wasn’t more of a gentleman. I just…I didn’t know what was happening. I owe you an apology. I was wrong about you.”
Don’t open your smart mouth, Aideen. I tore my eyes away, feeling the monsoon begin. Liam stood, a small grunt passing through his mouth as his weight shifted, and he reached for a tissue on the sink counter and handed it to me.
“I’ll…um…I’ll tell Julian you’re sick. He can’t handle a sick bird.” Thank you.
Liam was quick to exit, his voice a muffled hum beyond the closed bathroom door. I thought about that being a test, some twisted attempt to have the shamrock’s soft blue eyes and gentle caress make me spill my guts about something to which I was still not privy. With my breathing calm, I moved to the toilet and continued to sob quiet, heavy tears that sa
turated my thighs. I watched them dribble along my leg, soak the top of my pants, and splash onto Julian’s bathroom floor.
I don’t know how much time passed before Julian was at the door, his lack of manners cracking open the panel while he spoke.
“Aideen, dinner is here.” Dinner? How long was I in here? More importantly, how long would I be staying? I lifted from the floor, having curled myself into a ball against the bathtub, and cautiously inched toward his voice. The blind safety of his familiar sound drew me in. My pace was clearly too slow for Julian, his disdain evident when he swiftly opened the door.
“You look awful,” he muttered, his mouth gaping. I wanted to shove my foot inside of it, but for some ridiculous reason, I felt that was too cruel. Too cruel. Hello!
“Fuck off, Julian.”
“What did you just say?” His eyes narrowed, the sapphire morphing to black while his nostrils flared. His stare was overwhelming, expressing so much that my mind couldn’t process.
“You,” my voice quivered, “heard me. Your brother’s not around, so I’ll say it again. Fuck. Off. Julian.”
“I am around.” Liam snickered, his smiling face leaning over Julian’s back, surprising us both. Julian’s expression faded to emptiness, communicating nothing to me.
“Give babby a break, Julian,” Liam scoffed at his brother’s stiff posture and intimidating silence. “You can’t lie to me and tell me she came here willingly. Can you? After what happened?”
“What happened?” I inquired, glancing between the brothers, unsure of which pair of blue eyes bothered me more, which left my heart aching. Liam slapped Julian’s shoulder and was quickly rewarded with a smack against his own head by Julian’s powerful hand.
“Dinner is in the kitchen. Aideen, you’re familiar with that room.” Julian grinned, a dangerous humor behind his eyes. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started, darling?”
“No.” I shook my head frantically, denying his demand. “I’m not hungry. I’m not eating. You cannot force me to be here without telling me what the hell is going on! Either of you!”
“You’re forcing her to be here, Julian? Who taught you manners?”
“You learned from me, you shit,” Julian snapped, swatting at Liam once more. “Aideen, kitchen.”
“No,” I repeated, my eyes fixed on Julian’s. Liam stepped in front of Julian, placing his hand on my right elbow while my body subconsciously floated with him into the hallway.
“Tell her about the press, Julian,” Liam sighed. “Enough of your games. Just talk to her or I’ll tell her everything and it won’t have the same…spin.”
Julian pried Liam’s hand from my elbow, throwing his brother’s arm off me before staring directly into my eyes.
“You told me we could talk,” I whispered, quickly looking at Liam. “You said coffee first, then we could talk. Please. Just tell me what you need from me.”
“Liam,” Julian’s gaze fell to my lips, “go to the kitchen. We’ll be right there.” That’s promising. We. That means I’ll at least live to have a last meal.
I watched Liam bite his tongue, hesitant to leave, but he did as directed, leaving Julian and I in the awkward space between his bathroom door and foyer. Heavy silence surrounded us, weighing against my heart while the sounds of Liam sorting through takeout boxes echoed in the distance. My eyes flashed to Julian’s, back and forth between each darkened pool of blue.
“You’re not safe,” he finally stated, lifting his thumbs to my cheeks while slowly wiping the remnants of my tears and carelessly smearing them against his shirt. I looked down at his exposed forearms, distracted by the movement of each muscle as his hands pulled away from me and bound against his chest.
“I haven’t been,” I replied, my eyes lost in his. “Not since I met you.”
“It started before then, babby,” Julian sighed, his eyes closing briefly as though contemplating something he struggled to compose in his mind. “It started when you met the Dalys.”
It came as no surprise to me that Elliott would come up eventually, considering we were business partners. I listened, waiting patiently for Julian to continue. I blinked my eyes dry, not caring anymore that I lost a piece of myself in his bathroom, or that Liam witnessed it, or even that Julian knew and I showed him my weakness. I could still take this creep if need be. One swift kick to the groin. Better yet, maybe I’ll just kill him with kindness.
He nodded, licking his lips. “The press is also an enemy.”
“Enemy?”
He classified the press in the same category as Elliott. Enemy. Julian slowly nodded, admitting no more. I heard the Styrofoam and plastic symphony in the kitchen and found myself wanting to be surrounded by food and Liam, a complete stranger, more than I desired the unpredictable stability of Julian and whatever he was about to tell me. I blinked like a fool, dueling Julian in a silent challenge while we listened to Liam devour our dinner.
“I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, Aideen,” Julian’s words were barely audible, “but I need you to trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“I’m not surprised, but you can at least trust that you’re safe right now. I won’t hurt you, babby.”
“You already have.” My admission was a release, untying the secret bondage Julian placed on my mind and sending it into his heart—I hoped. His brow furrowed as his lips parted, processing something with which he must have been familiar. This couldn’t have been the first time someone told him he bruised, damaged, or broke them. I shivered beneath the touch of his palms around the base of my neck, his thumbs mindlessly stroking against my clavicle. He didn’t know his light touch caused a bounty of pain beneath the soft pads of his thumbs. It hurt because it was real; it ached because it was true. This beautiful pain reminds me I’m alive; I’m a prisoner and I always will be.
“I never want to do that,” he whispered, his mouth inches from my forehead, “I can guarantee you that. I may scar you, I may leave you wanting, but it will never be my intention to inflict pain upon you, Aideen.”
I couldn’t tell if his divulgence was frighteningly romantic, endearing, or an even more serious threat that he actually had no control over his plans to kill me. I closed my eyes, unable to process with Julian so close to me, but the scent of his cologne and the latte on his breath were even more potent.
“Trust,” my skin froze as his lips met my forehead between his words, “me.”
“So it isn’t simply a mistake,” Liam whistled from the kitchen doorway. “The press hasn’t entirely gotten the wrong idea? By handle it, what exactly did you mean, brother? You wanted me to make sure your wedding plans were finalized?”
Julian pulled away, his hands still squeezing my arms, while he turned to glare at Liam. My eyes were unmoving, watching the floor and returning my focus to counting knots in his hardwood. This arrogant man, this insatiable demon, this stranger touched me, his lips kissed my forehead. I want to die right now.
“You need to eat.” Julian’s voice returned, a booming sound and demand that was more informative than suggestive. I had to eat; there clearly was no other option. My arms burned as Julian released me, headed toward his kitchen with no other word, no glance, no closure. Liam winked at me, his brows lifting ruefully before he followed Julian into the kitchen. I heard Julian call my name, his tone demanding my immediate compliance. I entered the kitchen, leaving behind the foyer and memories of Julian’s lips against my forehead. Oh, Lord. Don’t do this. Stockholm. Get it straight.
Liam took the chair earlier occupied by my bound legs, probably having no idea that his brother adhered me to it against my will. He was at the end of the table, slowly spinning noodles around his fork. Liam swallowed and dropped his utensil as I entered the room, quickly standing to wipe off his mouth and motion for me to sit. In that seat. Oh, buddy, you are twisted.
“Miss Leary.” Liam gestured toward the seat he just occupied, a kind smile parting his lips. I wondered if he understood the significance of that
chair, and glancing again at the twitching smile against his face, I became entirely aware that he knew precisely what he was doing.
“Sit down, Aideen,” Julian commanded, approaching the table with a bottle of wine from the opposite side of the room. Where is his gun? Looking up into the eyes of my captor, I saw the urgency, the concern that informed me the moment in his foyer had not left his mind either. Maybe. Liam carried his plate to the middle of the table, allowing Julian to take the seat opposite me at the other end, again given the opportunity to resume his dominance.
“Sit,” Julian repeated, taking his own seat and uncorking the bottle of wine. I placed my bottom right back to its earlier prison, my skin crawling at the memory of Julian’s hands around my ankles, the rope knotted around my wrists. He was quick to set a plate before me, followed by a glass of wine. I waved away the glass, receiving their silence and confused stares in response.
“You don’t drink?” I’m not going to drink around two potential murderers.
“No.”
“That’s peculiar.” Liam chuckled. “Aideen Leary, the babby who wouldn’t drink. I thought we all consumed liquor like a lifeline. Ol’ Julian over here is a champion consumer.”
“Liam.” Julian’s head shook, although a small smile flashed at me. “You can have a sip.”
“I don’t drink.” I lied. Besides, you probably put a sleeping pill in it or something. Well, at least I’d go peacefully then. Bottoms up! I lifted the glass into the air, swallowing its burning contents in one painful gulp. With a refreshed exhale, I placed the glass back on the kitchen table and waited for my next order.
“Well done.” Liam nodded with delightful appreciation, mirroring my actions and taking a swig of his wine. “Oh, Julian, this is horrendous.”