“Then so be it.” I swipe my hand through the air in finality. “If it will set you free, I’ll do it.”
“Don’t be stupid! Walk. Leave me here.”
“You’d rather me abandon the man I love?”
“I’ll find a way out. I’ll find you. But if you lie with him, I’ll hate you, Angel. And if he manages to seduce you into some twisted sense of love, I’ll see you as nothing more than a weak slut,” he sneers, his lip curling up in disgust as though he already sees me with my legs spread for Killian. He’s never talked to me this way. Gone is the man who held me gently, like I was something fragile to care for. The man who never raised his voice at me.
“Perhaps you could hate me someday. But today, I love you too much to let you spend the rest of your life here. However long they allow that to be.”
Some of his anger deflates and as though he’s trying to dispel what remains, he rubs his brow. “What if you left and got help?”
“I already thought of that. I was informed they’d kill you on the spot. What I need is time. My family must be searching for me by now.”
“How?” he asks with frustration. “They don’t even know where we went.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll leave no stone unturned. And I’ve been thinking, surely the restaurant had surveillance.”
Jacob huffs. “Do you believe a man like Killian would be bothered by a bit of video footage? All he has to do is say the word and it’s gone.”
“In Vegas. This is our turf.”
“It’s all his turf.” He bows his head. “I guess one way or another, we’re all losing.”
“We can’t give up. Patience is a virtue.”
“I’m not sure you’re the best person to preach about patience.”
I reach up to cup his cheek in my palm, doing my best to sound reassuring, even when I myself am terrified. “I’ll figure something out. But I’m sorry if it turns out this is the only way I can help you. I swear, no matter what you hear, my heart will always be yours. Only yours.”
He turns from me as the door opens behind us. His back is the last thing I see as the blindfold is swept over my eyes.
4
He’ll hate me. He’ll despise me for doing what I must to set him free, yet if I walk away and leave him, I’ll hate myself. There are many things I can live with. Not fighting for someone I love isn’t one of them.
These are the thoughts swirling through my mind as I somberly walk behind Killian, his hand clenched around my wrist, guiding the way. I should have been paying attention. Counted every step back to my cell. Perhaps then, if the chance were to present itself, I’d have an idea of where to go.
But I’m so busy sulking that when we finally come to a stop, I’m fully turned around. Not that I’ve ever had a great sense of direction.
“Boss,” William says.
This time, unlike before, a combination of buttons are pressed. The sound of gears turning has me cocking my head to hear better. A door opens, letting out a gust of air that blows my hair from my face.
“Where are we?” I ask, acutely aware that something is different.
A hand at the small of my back pushes me forward and the door closes behind us, creating a suction of air this time.
When the blindfold is removed, I see we’re in a tight space, a foyer of sorts, with a large metal door on one side and two thin, intricately carved wooden turquoise ones on the other.
I point at the metal one. “Are we in a vault?”
“Of course. Where else would I keep such a priceless acquisition?” Killian answers as if it should make perfect sense. “My lady, welcome to your new abode.”
The double doors are flung open, and the sight that greets me takes my breath away.
“Well, aren’t you going to come in?” he asks.
“This… This is where I’ll be staying? But I thought—” I turn toward the vault door as though I can see straight through it to the empty cell I was previously in.
“I can send you back there, if you pre—”
“No! I like this better,” I admit.
“Then are you coming in? Or are you still thinking of flying away, my dark angel?”
I’m standing at the threshold, straddling the fine line between freedom and captivity.
It’s up to me which direction to step in. I’d rather not have the choice. I’d rather this monster do it for me so that I don’t have the burden on my shoulders.
If I go into this beautiful gilded cage, I’ll have a chance to set Jacob free. Even if it takes an eternity, I’ll have to make it my mission to fall in love with Killian. And when I succeed, my husband will hate me. The day he walks out if his prison, he’ll also walk out of my life.
But if I leave, Jacob will remain a prisoner and I’ll lose him.
Either way, Killian wins and we lose. I have no other choice.
My mind made up, I steel myself for what needs to be done. I step inside, and the doors close behind me.
“Do you like it?” he asks, spreading his arms wide as he spins on the spot, as if he’s revealing some epic makeover on one of those HGTV shows.
“Yes.” It’s the truth. The room is breathtaking. Meant to seduce. It’s obvious that every color, every fabric has been chosen carefully to be deliciously sultry. Long silk panels in deep reds, ruddy oranges, and vibrant teals hang from a single point in the ceiling, like a tent, then attach to the walls and flow down to puddle extravagantly on the floor.
An ornate four-poster bed sits under the silk canopy, and it too is covered in lush fabrics—cashmere, furs, and chenille.
Walking around the room, I take my time exploring, touching everything. A dresser has been set with useless knickknacks—an old hand held mirror with cloudy glass, some porcelain figurines, and a music box that doesn’t play.
I run my finger over the wood of a round table with two chairs, also intricately carved, that’s positioned to one side of the room, over by the sitting area with a comfy couch and more pillows than necessary. That seems to be the theme. Pillows, pillows, and more pillows. On the bed, the couch, the floor. Colorful ones with gold thread and crystal beads, along with solid black, white, and brown ones.
“Did you get all this from World Market?” I mock, lifting a marble elephant from the nightstand.
“From the world, actually. It’s all authentic. The bed’s Moroccan. The table’s from India,” he boasts.
“And you, Killer. Where do you hail from?” I glide my fingertips over his back as I pass.
“Born and raised here.”
“Ah. A native to…Nevada?”
He chuckles that way that drives me insane. “Open the drawers.”
I roll my eyes but do as I’m told. The dresser has been filled with clothes—silk nighties and silk underwear. Silk shirts and silk robes.
“You don’t believe in cotton?” I ask him.
“I prefer my women delicate.”
Now I’m the one who bursts out laughing. Though I consider myself sexy, and I tend to dress in clothes that reflect that, delicate is not a word I’d use to describe myself.