by Fiona Keane
The hall seemed without end, a tunnel without light, as I slowly walked to the elevator. I was tormented, my mind and heart battling between the image of Elliott on Julian’s bedroom floor and the aching burn along my neck where Julian had so tightly held me as his lips devoured my skin. I told him never to touch me again. He killed someone. Again. In front of me. It was Elliott. Elliott. The tears flowed with my thoughts of the reality of our evening while I stood in excluded isolation, waiting for the elevator; the explosion, the intruder, lust, wanting. I wiped each stream from my cold cheeks, reminding myself that I was, after all, absolutely terrified of Julian Molloy. Terrified of him or how me made me feel?
David was waiting outside, his stoic figure resting against the passenger side of the black SUV. So it was him stalking me outside of my apartment that night. Fucking David. He gruffly nodded at me, his only method of acknowledging my presence. This is going to be a wonderful ride.
“Hello, David,” I whispered, hoping to break the glacier of emotionless ice between us. He again nodded, causing me to wonder if he no longer had a voice or if he was that much of a prick to everyone. Maybe just to all of Julian’s fake girlfriends. He opened the rear passenger door for me, and I climbed in, evading the falling snow, nestling into the leather upholstery while buckling my seatbelt. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve already got a death wish. I reminded myself that as soon as I had my answers about Elliott, once I was able to secure my freedom through knowledge, I would be out of the Molloy world for good. I would be safe. I would be alone but innocuous. The door opposite me opened, and Liam quickly tucked inside. His hair was covered in melting flakes of snow.
“David’s taking you to the hotel. I’ll have someone bring your things later, but I’ve already asked that you have some items there for you tonight. You might be there for a while.” I stared out my window, avoiding conversation with a heavy sigh.
“It’s for the better,” he whispered, his hand reaching for mine against my lap. “Trust me.”
My eyes flickered down to his hand, watching it intertwine with my betraying fingers that accepted his hold like weakened putty. Trust. That’s hilarious. What does that word even mean to these people? Liam’s hand squeezed, a natural behavior of reassurance and protection.
“I don’t.”
“I know.” He inhaled a heavy breath as David entered the car. “You’ll get some rest tonight, and we can talk with Julian tomorrow before the party.” Shit. His grandfather’s stupid party. The whole reason we went for a date, which ended in us nearly dying before Elliott somehow broke in and tried to kill us. Oh my God, this is not my world now.
“That is,” he coughed, “if you two are speaking to one another. I don’t know how he can avoid you for too long. You’re irresistible, especially when you try to hate us.”
“Try? How about you try to go screw yourself?” I muttered, pulling my hand from his. Liam moved closer, the leather squeaking beneath his legs. His right fingers lifted to move my hair from my left ear, leaning in to whisper.
“He’s furious with himself,” his words infiltrated my heart, “but you know what you know, and he can’t change who he is. Neither can I. Just like you can’t change who you are, we’re all stuck in this spiral of fate. I wish you would talk with me again.”
“We aren’t friends, Molloy,” I groaned, lifting my shoulder to my ear, hoping he would back off. “If you won’t tell me what happened, then I don’t want to hear your voice.”
“Your threats,” his head hung with a small laugh, “remind me why you’re not my girlfriend, Aideen. Please.” Cheeky bastard. What the hell was this? I was two seconds away from slapping Liam across the face. Why wait? Ha! I pulled my hand from the warmth of my lap and swiped across Liam’s face with a delightful sound echoing throughout the car. Idiot.
“I wish your brother were here just so he could kill you next.” I glared at him, watching Liam rub his reddening cheek.
“I’ll tell him you miss him.” He winked at me, then slipped away as he climbed out of the car, stopping at the door. “I’ll forgive you for this. I know tonight was a lot for you. Sweet dreams.” Dreams of killing you, that is. With both Molloy brothers on my shit-list, I had nothing else to do but wait for David to take me away.
I zoned out, struggling to keep alert while David drove through the darkened streets of Boston. I knew he was heading west, but that’s all I could consider. I had nothing left within my throbbing brain, only the ache that slowly trickled back in, its excruciating fingers winding through each curve with their burning blade of pain.
“Miss,” David stated as the door opened, startling me from my daze. Gazing up into his impassive face, I sort of felt like punching him. I wanted to take everything out on that quiet jerk just because he was there. David was the only person I had in that moment. Don’t do it. He will most certainly end me, then he’ll call Julian to end me even more. But maybe Julian would kiss me first. I climbed from the car and slipped on ice as I stumbled over the frozen sidewalk. My chest tightened in response, almost losing my breath, but I stabilized and followed David into the massive building.
I clung to his shadow in awe of the hotel’s lobby, the massive monument to wealth and luxury was a daunting reminder of how out of place I was. I peered from behind David’s tall frame and observed him handing some paperwork to the concierge. He was an older gentleman, graying hair giving away his history. His eyes drifted from the paperwork to me, then back at David.
“Good evening, Miss Leary,” he greeted, stepping out from David’s imposing view. “I’m William, and I’ll be showing you up to your suite.”
“Thanks,” I uttered, reminding myself he was probably also in with the Molloys if he accepted literature from David as a form of communication and reservation.
“I believe your luggage will be brought up shortly, but some items have been delivered already. I do hope you’ll be comfortable,” William informed as we stepped toward the elevator and he inserted a small key into a thin panel. Once inside, I glanced at the mirrored walls, disheartened by my pajamas and David’s expensive, crisp suit. I look like a fool. Forgive me, I almost died twice tonight.
“You don’t need to come all the way up, David,” I whispered, hurting my neck to look up at him. “I’ll be fine.”
“Orders.” Okay…William was silent as he pressed buttons inside the elevator car. It was a petite shell, the small space threatening suffocation. If I am going to die of asphyxiation, it better be on Julian’s cologne. Oh, hell no, not this again. I shook my head, rubbing my eyes to the point of pain, but I couldn’t release the image of Julian from my mind.
“Miss Leary,” William announced, his hands holding open the doors, “we’re here…Miss?” I nodded politely at William while the three of us stepped from the elevator. David casually glanced around the halls, pacing back and forth to ensure security, making my heart and stomach flop with trepidation. I followed William to one of the four doors on our floor, halting at the last one before the hall ended.
“This is the best suite we have, Miss Leary.” He turned the knob, allowing the door to inch open before me. “We do hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at William, dismissing him. I cautiously entered the suite, aware that David lingered in the hallway. I gaped at the ridiculous luxury Liam reserved for me. The carpeted palace was decorated with whites and creams, heavenly pillows and blankets topping the enormous king-sized bed and multiple sofas. The bed alone was enough to subdue me, my knees buckled at the sight of its softness. I eagerly skipped toward it, my heart momentarily forgetting why I was even there until my eyes stopped on a slim package resting atop one of the large decorative shams. The ivory box was tied with a dark emerald ribbon and a small sealed envelope. The last time I had a surprise box, I spent twenty minutes flirting with Julian on the phone. Julian. With hesitant fingers, I reached to untie the ribbon, letting it slink into a pile against the pillow. I pulled off the lid, my eyes wide a
t the sight of a bouquet of pink roses, bound by another emerald ribbon. I had to admit they were stunning, gorgeously vivid and aromatic. I reached for the envelope, expecting a heartfelt apology or threat from Julian, but the handwriting wasn’t familiar.
I hope we can be friends again. Has anyone told you that you’re even lovelier when angry? Sweet dreams, bird.
At first, it was impossible to comprehend from where Liam Molloy derived his arrogance, but as I continued to observe the dynamic between Liam and Julian, it became apparent to me. Liam might have truly been as genuine and caring as he attempted to project, but being in Julian’s shadow forced his personality to evolve like a demonic viper competing with hunger. I was more of a pawn than I’d hoped. I should have tossed them out, adding a few stomps with my feet to make sure they were nice and pulverized. However, looking around the expensively monochromatic chamber of my newest luxury prison, a pop of color with its heartfelt message was just what I needed.
I carried the roses from the bed to the bathroom, breaking their long stems and filling some drinking glasses with water to prolong their life. I hope I live longer than them. My eyes melted into a glossy stare, no longer attending to the water while it poured over the cup in my hand. The last time I was in a bathroom, I was inside Julian’s. With him, against his countertop, with my legs binding his hips to me. Before Elliott broke in…and died. Before Julian and I had a chance to talk. Before…My life was a disaster. I couldn’t understand myself—did I hate Julian or want to fall victim to him with open arms?
I snapped back to reality and finished sorting the roses. Holding two glasses in my hands, I returned to the bedroom area of my suite, placing both small bouquets on the table between the window and fireplace. He really does scare the hell out of me. His gun, his smile, the secrets. I needed a shower and a good night’s sleep. I didn’t care in which order those came, but they needed to hurry their asses up and arrive. Opting for sleep, because my eyes watered with exhaustion simply by looking at the bed, I took off everything but my knickers and climbed under the heavy covers. Oh, sweet mother of Buddha and Judas. This is divine. The silky cotton held my body in a euphoric hammock, my lids quickly responding to the evening and comforting hold of the bedding.
***
I slept facing the monitor, my eyes staring mindlessly at the scrolling peaks of my heartbeat as I came to. I wiggled my toes and stretched my ankles, desperate to move. With a sleepy sigh, I rolled my head to the left. I couldn’t resist the smile that tickled my lips.
“Hi, Sleeping Beauty.” His eyes lifted from the newspaper, his hands slowly folding it as he leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”
“You’re here again?”
“I am.” The lines around his deep blue eyes creased with his smile, echoing the emotion etched on his face as he watched me.
“You’re always here.”
“That I will be,” he pressed, standing from his chair and approaching my bed, the knuckles on his right hand softly grazing my cheek. “How is your head?”
I opened my eyes, having closed them in response to his euphoric touch, and observed his furrowed brow. “It’s fine,” I sighed, moaning as I struggled to sit up. “What’d you read to me while I slept this time?”
“Obits.” He laughed, resting half of his bum against my mattress in the space next to me. “You told me last week those are your favorite so you know what to not write in yours.”
“Oh God,” I whined, wrapping my fingers around his wrist while his hand opened to cup my face. “That’s not what I want to think about while sleeping, but thank you. What if I die in here and nobody can write my obituary?”
“You won’t die in here. I won’t let you die in here.”
“Fuck. That’d suck,” I muttered.
“That mouth.” His head shook. “It’s going to be the end of me, you know, but what a way to go. I couldn’t get out of a meeting I’m scheduled to attend tonight…”
“You have a life. I know all about it.” I looked up at him, my eyes searching the lines echoing around his wild stripes of every imaginable hue of blue. His face pulled away, staring at his lap.
“I’m going to leave it,” he whispered, turning to me. “For you, I would and I will. I’m not interested in a world that doesn’t include you, Aideen. I’ve told you this before. You’re it for me. I want to give you the world. You’re what I want.”
“Even with my mouth?” I laughed, but everything on the inside melted to goo. It was an incredible feeling, the notion that someone so deeply cared about me. The mere thought of him, let alone the intoxicating vision, shattered everything else in the world. I felt free around him; I felt safe. I was safe.
“When will I see you again?” My question went unanswered, his body tumbling from the mattress as the room faded into a blinding white glow that burned my retinas. The incredible vibration of electricity tore through me as I struggled to hold him in my memory. What memory? The pulse tore through me again, crippling my restricted body with pain. What mem—silence.
***
My head throbbed, the piercing pain searing me to consciousness. I was slow to blink open my eyes, blinded by the sun reflecting the blanket of snow that continued to cover Boston. I should have closed those curtains before falling asleep. My nightmares were becoming a frequent battle for my subconscious, exposing my thoughts like a broken kaleidoscope of misfired images based on stress. I need a vacation.
“Hey,” someone whispered from the doorway. I went rigid with surprise. Pulling a pillow over my head, I politely replied.
“Get the hell out of here.” Okay, so not the most polite, but who cares? Liam’s laughter was soft and expected, as though my irritation was adorable.
“I see you like your flowers,” he persisted, unable to see how hard my eyes rolled into the back of my aching head.
“Do you have your brother’s gun?” I grumbled.
“No.” I felt his weight against the foot of my mattress. “I have something better.” His brother?
“Oh,” my interest was piqued, “what?” I continued to hold myself hostage from Liam beneath the pillow, its silky cotton a delightful way to suffocate.
“Take off the pillow and I’ll show you, bird,” Liam sighed. “Pretty please?”
I tossed the pillow to the side and rolled onto my back, staring at the well-dressed man who seemed to continuously find himself at the foot of my bed.
“I thought Molloys didn’t beg.”
Liam’s shoulders lifted with a shrug. His mouth was pursed in thought. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Can I show you what I brought?”
“Fine, you freak.” I waited for Liam to leave, but he didn’t move. “Do you mind, Liam?” I watched his eyes trail along my shoulders, his blue eyes widening with realization that I was only in my underwear.
“Ah,” he stood, “where are my manners? I’ll be out there. You just come out when you’re ready.”
“Sounds like never, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Liam left me in a moment of privacy that was not taken for granted. I ran to the door, the soft sheet wrapped around my body, and slammed it shut, hopefully sending a forceful reminder that Liam couldn’t barge in on me. The bulging rack caught my eye as I turned around. William hadn’t exaggerated; more attire than I could possibly need was delivered to my room, and probably by Liam the Intruder so the flirt could get a sneak peek. Ruthless.
Eying the rack that danced with hangers full of clothing, I thought back to my cell at Julian’s prison of a home. It wasn’t a prison. It was nice. It was warm. There were fireplaces everywhere, and it smelled yummy. Yet now it reeked of death, of betrayal. It was a juxtaposition of his power and twisted compassion with the deadly reminder of all he was capable.
“Liam,” I called through the closed door, the sheet tightly snug against my body in the chance he knew how to pick locks. I’m sure he does.
“Bird.”
“I’m not wearing any of this stuff,”
I announced, continuing to examine the designer frocks that cost fortunes, saddened to see such fabric go to waste.
“I’m okay with that if you are.” His voice was distant from within the suite. “I’m sure you’re absolutely stunning without clothes on.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
I heard Liam’s laughter, his tone clearly a jovial attempt to lighten the mood. Maybe he considered how horrible he was the previous evening—how deceptive and vile, seeking forgiveness. Julian saw me naked. When he saved me for the second time. Third time? Second. Julian. It hurt my heart to imagine him, wondering what he was doing that precise moment. The pain was real, a burning that bore itself through each ventricle on its stinging journey through my blood. Why? Why do I care?
“There should be a suitcase in there somewhere,” Liam continued. “Check in there and come out here. You’re spoiling your surprise.”
I peered around the clothing rack and was filled with delight when I saw my suitcase under three boxes of shoes. Three. Kneeling, I moved the shoes aside and unzipped my suitcase, momentarily flashing back to the night I packed it. The night Julian killed someone to save me. The suitcase had my sweatshirt, my leggings, and things that weren’t mine, including some stupid, fancy rubbish. Once I scrambled around and found some underwear that wasn’t lacy and set for a love scene, I pulled on my leggings and sweatshirt.
Liam sat in one of the leather club chairs at the small breakfast table, scrolling through his phone, when I finally stepped out of the bedroom.
“Ah.” He stood, placing his phone on the table. “You look comfortable. Ready for your surprise?” He motioned to the table, spanning his hand along the six platters covered by silver domes.
