Then he lights his smoke, all the while staring at me like I’m an interesting but untrustworthy riddle.
“You’re upset.”
“And you’re a genius. Now leave.”
“What did he do?”
When I sigh heavily, rolling my eyes, Declan says, “Because if anyone knows how he can be, it’s me.”
I say drily, “That’s a fascinating tidbit of information. Bye now.”
I turn to walk away, but Declan calls out, “I’ve never seen him like this before, lass. He’s crazy about you.”
I stop in my tracks, my face heating instantly. I whirl around and send Declan a murderous glare. “Tell your boss I’m not as dumb as he thinks I am. And that he can go to hell.” I laugh darkly. “And that I got my period. That should pop his scheming little bubble.”
I walk up the apartment steps with my head held high and my heart breaking.
When I get back inside, I head to my room and close the door. I stand by the window, looking out at the street, until both SUVs pull away. I’m a little surprised, but if Declan told Killian what I said, maybe he’ll leave me alone now. Maybe he’ll find some other girl to seduce and lie to.
Hopefully, she’s smarter than me and will take pruning shears to his balls.
I get another pregnancy test from the bag in the top drawer of my dresser, then go into the bathroom and pee onto the little white stick.
I sit on the toilet for two minutes that feel like two hours, staring at the damn thing.
I release the breath I’d been holding when the results are negative.
But I still haven’t had my period, and it was due yesterday.
Nine days after I had unprotected sex.
One day after the earliest the test could possibly detect pregnancy hormones.
I go to bed early with a bad feeling the rest of the week is going to be a nightmare.
I wake up in the middle of the night with the distinct sense that someone else is in the room with me.
I don’t move or give any indication I’m awake. I just lie on my side, facing the wall, listening hard over the drumbeat of my pulse. The room is dark and silent. Where did I leave my knife?
“If you’re looking for your knife, it’s on the bathroom sink. Next to the pregnancy test wrapper.”
The voice is low, calm, and unmistakable. My blood turns to fire in my veins.
I sit up abruptly, turn on the light on the nightstand, and stare at Killian sitting with one leg casually crossed over the other in an armchair across the room.
He’s in his Armani power suit. The one he wears like a suit of armor. The one that makes him look elegant and dangerous, a hungry tiger dressed in a gentleman’s clothes.
His eyes are dark and glittering. Not even a hint of warmth softens the hard angles of his face.
I say, “Get out.”
“No.”
We stare at each other. My hands begin to shake. My mouth goes bone dry. “What do you want?”
“You. But you already know that.”
He’s deadly serious. Feeling vulnerable, I pull the sheets over my chest. I’m wearing a short cotton nightgown and nothing else.
Watching every minute change of expression on my face, he says, “So we’re not pregnant.”
We. I could kill him. “No, I’m not pregnant.”
Gazing steadily at me, he drums his fingers slowly on the arm of the chair. A muscle slides in his jaw. I sense his frustration and disappointment, but I don’t know if it’s directed at me or at what I’ve just told him.
“If you don’t believe me, go look at the test yourself. It’s in the trashcan in the bathroom.”
“I know where it is.”
The stare-off continues. The room feels as if it’s too hot. Too close. I’m starting to sweat. I’m definitely starting to get claustrophobic.
“I want you to leave. I don’t have anything to say to you.”
A faint, dangerous smile curves the corners of his mouth. He says softly, “Don’t you?”
I curl the sheets in my hands to try to control their shaking. “No, I don’t. And I’m not interested in your games. So whatever this is—”
“I don’t like it when you lie to me. I want to know why you’re doing it now.”
My skin feels like it’s on fire. At any moment, my nightgown and the sheets and the bed itself are going to burst into flames. “I don’t care what you like or don’t like. And I don’t owe you any explanations. About anything.”
His voice drops. His eyes burn. The slow, steady drum of his fingers on the arm of the chair continues. “You owe me the truth, thief. If nothing else, you promised me that.”
“You’re the one who walked out of that motel room, not me.”
His eyes flare. For a brief moment, his fingers fall still. Then he exhales and resumes the slow, steady drumming.
I know that if I were a man, I’d be shitting myself in fright right now. It’s obvious he’s controlling his temper by sheer force of will.
But I’m not afraid of him. This is my house. He can go back to whatever rock he crawled out from under.
“Get out.”
“We’ve already been over that. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re lying to me.” He narrows his eyes. “And what you meant when you said ‘I figured it out.’ And also what you meant when you told Declan you’re smarter than I think you are.”
“Exactly that.”
When I don’t offer more, he stands. He stares down at me with half-lowered lids and slowly unbuttons his suit jacket.
I remember how he told me he’d take me over his knee if I lied to him again, and my heart explodes in panic.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, scooching closer to the wall.
“Why, little thief. You look frightened. Whatever is it you think I’m going to do?”
He’s mocking me, the son of a bitch. Stepping toward the bed like he’s got all the time in the world, his smile small and his movements leisurely.
Anger gives me wings.
I leap to my feet on the mattress, throw down the sheets, and holler, “Get the hell out of my house, you arrogant bastard!”
His small smile turns to a dangerous grin. “There’s my hellcat,” he says in a pleased, husky voice, still advancing. “I wondered how long it would take for the claws to come out.”
He whips off his jacket and tosses it to the floor.
He lunges for me.
I yelp and jump to one side, but he’s too fast. He catches me easily, grabbing me in the steel vise of his arms, and takes us down to the mattress.
He lands on top of me, pins my arms over my head, and gives me his full weight, trapping me.
I don’t bother trying to struggle. I’d probably just dislocate something, and it wouldn’t work anyway. He’s far too strong for me to escape. So I simply lie underneath him, breathing hard and glaring up into his smug, handsome face.
Looking down at me, he says, “You are, by far, the most beautiful goddamn woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“And you are, by far, the worst liar I’ve ever met. You should get a trophy. Biggest Bullshitter Alive.”
“So angry,” he breathes, moistening his lips.