“I don’t remember,” I answered truthfully. And suddenly, I realized. For the first time in years, I’d slept without waking up drenched in sweat.
“Interesting,” he commented ever so casually, but there was that tension you couldn’t miss. It was in the strain of his long fingers resting on the armrests. It was in the way his legs were crossed stiffly at his ankles. His jeans should have made him appear casual, but failed. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the ink on his collarbone and up his neck.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I retorted. How long had he been sitting here? “Why are you so creepy?”
“Technically you’re in my home, so you’re creepy for sleeping in my bed.” I opened my mouth but then closed it, appalled at his ridiculous answer, but you couldn’t reason with lunatics, so I let it go. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“You have to eat.”
“Well, I don’t want to,” I snapped. “I lost my appetite waking up to a creep in my room.” Everything about this man rattled me so much that my knee-jerk reaction was to fight him. “In fact, it’s best if you get used to it. I plan on making you regret ever bidding on me. And if you were hoping for sex… Well, don’t. Touch me, and I’ll slice your dick off.”
He didn’t seem concerned about his dick. Instead, he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. His dark eyes bore into me, unspoken messages in them leaving a sharp tang on my tongue.
“It appears you might be delusional.” Was this fucker purposely provoking me? “You’re my property now. That means you have to do everything I say.”
I scoffed. “Hold your breath on that one.”
“It’s my job to keep you safe now.” The fierceness of the words was a juxtaposition to the cool threat in his voice. “And I’ll do it by any means necessary.” I remained silent, glaring at him, and a small smirk tugged on his lips. Fucker found this amusing. “Now you’re going to join me downstairs for dinner and tell me why you insisted on being taken to Perez.”
My eyes darted to the window and he followed my gaze.
“It’s too late for dinner,” I retorted wryly.
“It’s only eight, and Europeans prefer later dinners anyhow.” It would seem Kingston had all the answers. He rose to his feet, and my grip on the covers tightened. He must have noticed it because I saw the hint of a smirk around his lips. “Be downstairs in five minutes,” he ordered, then headed out of the room.
It wasn’t until he was gone that his words sunk in. Europe! I was on an island in freaking Europe.
Chapter 39Kingston
As we dined, the tension was so thick it could’ve bounced off the wall.
I took a sip of my sparkling water, needing all my wits about me as I dealt with this woman who managed to surprise me at every turn. She wasn’t the Liana I remembered.
“How’s your food?” I asked.
“I hate steak,” she growled, candlelight flickering across her face. “I hate mashed potatoes, and I hate corn.”
“Too bad, it’s my favorite meal.” I enjoyed all fine food, but I found the freedom of being able to grill my own food extremely gratifying after spending years being fed slop by her mother and stepfather.
I cut through my steak and shoved a piece into my mouth, then chewed it slowly as I studied her. I usually preferred solitude, but for some reason, I wanted this woman around me. So I forced this dinner.
Something inside me kept driving me to figure her out and understand this pull she had on me.
“A gentleman would ask what a lady’s preferences are,” she hissed.
“Good thing I’m not a gentleman.”
“I forgot.” She waved her fork in the air. “You’re a creep.” She wasn’t far off. When my restlessness got the best of me earlier today, I went to her room and watched her sleep. It wasn’t until I heard the soothing sound of her breaths that I calmed down. “I’ll be sure to return the favor,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
My fingers tightened around my steak knife. I should warn her it would be unwise to sneak up on me. In fact, I’d killed people in the past who’d done just that.
I pushed my plate away and leaned forward.
“If you come into my room, I’ll consider it an invitation,” I said without a hint of emotion.
She sat opposite of me, her body rigid and her knuckles white. Every so often, she shot me a glare, and I imagined she was probably picturing all the ways she could slice me and dice me with her cutlery. I made a mental note to only give her butter knives going forward, although my instinct warned she’d probably find a way to end me using those too, which wouldn’t bode well for her. There was nobody on this island, and the only way off of it was by plane or boat. Neither of which she had access to.
“Invitation to what?” she asked, her tone hesitant.
“To fuck you into oblivion.”
Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink and she gazed up at me through her thick lashes, making my heart twist. It reminded me so much of Louisa.
“You’re a fucking deviant,” she said, her voice breathy. She must have realized it because she clenched her teeth. “If I come into your room, you’ll be dead before your dick has a chance to get hard.”
And there was that.
Since Louisa’s death, my cock hadn’t responded to a single woman. I grieved my sunshine, then turned to celibacy with the full intention of dying that way. Until this one crossed my path. I didn’t know what it was—her resemblance or her fire—but suddenly my dick decided to play. And it was wrong on so many levels.
The rest of our dinner resumed in silence despite many questions that needed answers.
I sat in my office attempting to handle a few emails and pay some bills. My mother left me a chunk of her inheritance and the empire she’d inherited from her father, but it came with responsibilities. And so did my own wealth I’d built on blood. My skills of tracking down people were highly sought after in the Omertà.
When the grandfather clock chimed midnight, I found myself staring at the laptop connected to my surveillance feed, watching Liana in the library like it was my sole purpose in life.
My heart thumped at the sight of her, and a yearning ache spread to my chest. I needed to understand this growing obsession with Liana, but this—having her nearby—would have to do for now.
I watched her cuddled up on the sofa, her legs folded and a blanket over her lap. She was beautiful, still wearing the same delicate clothes from dinner. Her hair tumbled down her slender shoulders in a cascade of sun-streaked waves. Her smooth skin radiated under the warm gleam of the roaring fire.
Holding the pad with her right hand and using the pencil with her left, she sketched. What or who she was drawing, I had no idea, but every once in a while, she’d throw a bundle of paper into the fire. Both twins drew, but Lou was always better at it, and judging by the way Liana watched her sketches burn with her eyebrows knitted together, hers hadn’t improved.
She’d been in the same position for the past two hours, sketching and then discarding. Switching the pencil between her left and right hand, massaging her left wrist every so often. I’d claim she was pathetic for not giving up on the hobby that her sister excelled at, but I realized I was even more so.
Fuck, this was so goddamned stupid.
I shouldn’t be spying on her through the camera, soaking in every expression that passed her face. I moved to close down the feed, but like each time before it, I stopped at the last second.
She started to hum, the tune distant and faint but enough to make my chest shudder. I wanted to march down the hallway and burst into the library, snatch her up, and carry her off to bed. Then I’d own her noises as I drove into her tight, wet heat, listening to her pleas for more. I wanted to torment her and make her pay for making me feel this way.