I let out a long breath and press my forehead and palms against the cool tiles. What am I going to do? Killian is obviously mental if he thinks I’m going to fall in love with him. But at least for now, I have no choice but to stay. To buy us time.
That’s what I need. Time. Time to find a way out. But time is something he’s unwilling to give me.
Meanwhile, I have to pretend to at least try to like him. Though I’m not sure if that’s going to happen. I’ve never been able to hide my real emotions. It’s my eyes. They give me away instantly. If I like you, you’ll see it. And if I hate you… Well, you’ll definitely know that too.
I sigh again. Damn, I’m tired.
Sleep. I need to sleep. To clear my mind so that I don’t make stupid mistakes. For all I know, I may have already made the biggest one of my life.
5
Plush though it may be, the luxurious bed with the black satin sheets and thick goose down comforter does nothing to help me relax. Even as full as the cheddar broccoli soup made me and as tired as I am, sleep is elusive.
It’s that fucking camera and the fucking man behind it.
Lying here under supervision reminds me of those studies where people are supposed to doze off so doctors can determine what’s wrong with them. Yet how can they while being watched?
Because I know he’s watching. I feel it! The little red light flashing reminds me of it every time I glance at the ceiling.
Is Jacob faring any better? Is he being watched too? Is he wondering if I’ve already given in to Killian’s demand?
My heart aches for him. I long for the comfort I found only in his arms. And I miss him. Dear Lord, I miss his touch and warmth. It’s been months since I’ve slept in a bed without him, and feeling the emptiness of this one isn’t making it any easier. There’s no heat but my own. Jacob.
“Ugh!” I throw my arm over my eyes.
Perhaps the tub would be a better option. I could always take my pillow in there. It would be like a recliner.
Just as I’m thinking that, I hear the vault door open. I sit up instantly, flicking the light on as I turn to the double doors being pushed in.
Killian walks in, looking as tired as I feel.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, pulling the blanket up to my neck.
“It’s been a long day. I’m ready to hit the sack. You should be asleep already. Do you know what time it is?”
“No. You didn’t put any clocks in here, reme— Hey! What are you doing?” I demand when he sits at the edge of the mattress and starts to remove his shoes.
“Getting ready to hit the sack,” he repeats.
“Surely you don’t mean here!”
“It’s my bed.”
“It’s my bed,” I throw back.
“In my room.” He takes off his tie and sets it on the nightstand, then goes to unbutton his shirt.
“Fuck no. You need to go.” I bolt out of bed and point toward the exit.
Ignoring me, he stands and pulls his pants off.
“Oh my god!” I yell, looking away.
He chuckles, setting my nerves further on edge. “Come to bed, Angelina.” The sound of sheets rustling and the bed creaking lets me know he’s in it.
Turning an angry gaze toward him, I spit, “The name’s Angel. And I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Suit yourself.” He reaches over and flicks off the lamp.
In a fit, I stomp to his side and stare at him. The glow from a nightlight in the bathroom spills through the doorway and illuminates his features enough so that I can see him.
“Stop looking at me as if you want to kill me.” He opens one eye and displays a grin so obnoxious, I want to slap it off his face.
“I’m tired. I want to get some sleep.”
“Then lie down and sleep.” He pats the spot beside him. “No one’s keeping you from it.”
“You are. You’re on my bed.”
“Correction. It’s my bed. Everything in this room is mine. Including you.” The way he emphasizes “you,” as if he owns me, ruffles my feathers beyond anything else he’s done.
“I haven’t given myself to you yet.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
My entire body tenses and my blood boils, sending a wave of intense heat up my neck and to my brain.
“Michael Killian. You will never own me!” I scream the last word as I pull the pillow from under him as hard as I can. His head falls to the mattress and the surprise on his face satisfies me to no end. Grabbing a furry throw from a nearby chair, I go into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.
I smile, believing I’ve had the last word. But then I hear the slight rumble of his laughter from the other room, and I realize I may have met my match.
The dryness of my eyes says I’ve slept for only half an hour at most. But the crick in my neck and the tightness in my back say I’ve been lying in this bathtub for a week.
Fuck. I can’t live like this, I think as I rub the tender muscles. One of us is going to have to give, and I highly doubt it’ll be me.
Pressing my ear to the door, I listen intently for any indication that Killian might still be there, but I’m met with silence. I open the door as quietly as I can and peer into the room. It’s empty. All that’s left are the messed-up sheets and the indentation on the pillow from where he laid his head.
I step toward the bed, still weary.
“Hello!” I call out, just in case.
Although he’s not here, I can still sense him. The scent of his expensive cologne, something light and fresh but distinctly masculine, lingers in the air. His suit, the one he wore before bed, has been left beside the cloth basket by the armoire. There’s also a granola bar wrapper on the dresser, even though there’s a garbage can right next to it.
“Pfft.” I shake my head as I throw it away and toss the clothes into the hamper, annoyed that I’m cleaning up after him. What the fuck am I doing? Feeling devilish, I take the suit out and glance at the tag. Armani, just as I thought. Probably worth a few thousand dollars.
“Oops.” It drops into the garbage bin, half of it hanging over the side because it’s too big. I giggle with glee at my malevolence and turn to the camera. It remains pointed toward the bed, and I’m slightly disappointed he’s not looking in on me now.
It’s a short-lived victory because I then find myself picking up the discarded tie and shoes. Although he’s gone, he’s left bits of himself everywhere, and it makes it seem as if he’s still here. This time, when my eyes land on the camera, it’s pointed toward me. Blinking. Taunting.
“Always watching,” I mumble to myself, getting comfortable with my space.
It’s quiet in here, the only sound the rumbling of a mini fridge in the sitting area. It’s a good thing I enjoy silence. And a damned good thing I’m not claustrophobic.
Actually, I’m enjoying the reprieve. It seems like an eternity since I haven’t been in some word battle with the master. In fact, I’m guessing the tension in my shoulders has nothing to do with my sleeping arrangements and everything to do with my inability to slap the grin off my captor’s handsome face.