Chapter 23 – Gabriella
The first thing I did when I got home was order a new phone with my credit card.
It would arrive late in the afternoon. Next, I put the pickles in a Tupperware container, smashed my phone with the handle of a cooking knife, and then dumped it in the glass container.
The bleach glugged into the glass. Once it was filled, I twisted the jar lid tight.
I hid the jar in the cupboard, planning to let the chemicals deteriorate the internal workings of the device for a few days before I threw it out.
Then I began to bake to cover the scent of cleaner.
Devious. Probably.
Necessary? Absolutely.
I was no man’s pawn in this underworld game. I didn’t know what my father wanted with his questions, but he would never find an ally in me.
***
Makeup freshly applied, I lay in bed reading. Or rather, rereading. The FMC had indeed been running when she heard the person come in through the front door. Not hiding. I was invested in the story.
When headlights flashed through the window, I sat up and closed the book. This time, I marked the spot. I was ready to tell my husband an abridged account of this morning’s proceedings. I figured he should know that my father was interested in his whereabouts.
And it wasn’t because I was developing feelings for my husband.
I rubbed the flutter in my chest, willing it to subside. This was mutual protection. We should look out for one another. I tried to grapple the surge of emotions that seemed to make the ball of thoughts and feelings strong before facing him.
It didn’t work.
Dammit. Maybe I shouldn’t face him tonight. I was too wound up. Frozen in debate, I sat there.
That was until he pushed through the bedroom door with a canister of gasoline in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other.
“Get up,” Liam barked.
“Liam, what the hell!” I screeched, scrambling off the mattress.
My heart jumped to my throat. Was this how I died? He lulled my suspicions with coffee and then torched me? Breathing hard, I looked around for a weapon.
There weren’t any.
Liam uncapped the fuel canister and sloshed the end of the bed with the gasoline. The fumes reeked. He pulled his arm back and dumped more, saturating the blankets.
Run!
But an object on the middle of the bed caught my eye. My book. I bit my lip. He was clearly insane, but that small object was a treat I’d worked for and bought myself.
Screw him and this madness!
I scrambled forward.
“Gabriella!” he shouted, mid-throw.
The toxic liquid nearly hit my arm. I swerved. Missed it. Breathing hard, I snatched the book, holding it protectively against my chest.
The masked devil didn’t throw any more until I took a step backward.
I glared at him, inching away. “What. The. Fuck?”
The blue of his eyes turned to slate. “Stay put.”
“Answer me!” My back hit the wall.
Liam ground his molars, tossing another healthy dose of gasoline on the mattress.
He moved to the middle and poured the remainder there.
A puddle of fuel spread over the sage green comforter until the fibers eagerly drank in their destruction.
Dropping the empty canister, Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.
With a flick of a lighter, he pulled the noxious, tar-laced smoke into his lungs.
As the exhale plumed around him, he flicked the burning stick on the bed.
Flames sprang up in a wicked dance.
I covered my mouth. Partially to battle the toxic scents but also to keep from screaming. White-hot fear rushed through my body.
This was insanity! My husband was a fucking psychopath.
Liam watched the flames, hard gaze staring into them as if he saw something in the feathery, iridescent oranges and yellows. They reflected their garish motions on the plastic of his mask.
It was a wonder he was so comfortable with fire after his incident.
I took another step, ready to bolt.
Liam roused himself and shot me a warning look. “Stay put.”
Yeah, right.
I wasn’t that stupid.
“I’m almost done,” he added and popped the tab on the extinguisher. As the smoke alarms began their piercing wails, Liam dowsed the mattress.
I coughed and stumbled a few more steps, not out of disobedience, but because the billows of yellow chemicals stank worse than all the rest.
The fire was out in seconds.
Liam reached to the raised the metal tube and smacked the alarm clean off its base. The disc fell to the ground. “The lads will remotely stop the others.”
The calmness in his voice was deceptive.
I raked my hand through my hair, careful to breathe through my mouth because of the fumes. The way my body trembled….
This wasn’t real. The devil didn’t just burn the place I slept. Yet the heat in the room, the stench of destruction, and the charred mess were undeniable.
Liam turned—and prowled toward me.
I stilled.
The look in his eye had my mouth opening. The words died on my tongue. He dropped the extinguisher on the floor, bent slightly, and tossed me over his shoulder. The contact snapped me out of the lull.
“Put me down!” My fists pummeled his back.
It wasn’t until we were down the hall that I noticed my book was on the threshold of my room.
“Liam!” I yelled and threw a bruising punch at his ribs. My hand stung. I bit my lip to keep the yowl at bay and shook it.
Damn him.
His voice turned to gravel. “Say my name again and see what happens.”
I wanted to. O, Santa Madonna, I wanted to! Scream his name at the top of my lungs. Yell until my voice was raw.
But I knew what madness came with tempting a monster.
I was dumped unceremoniously on his bed. Scrambling back, I spewed venom at him. “Answer me!”
“This—” he stabbed a finger at the mattress “—is where you sleep.”
I was breathing hard. So hard that my chest hurt. “What, because I’m your wife?”
“Yes.”
Such a simple explanation for the madness. He burnt my bed, so I was forced to sleep here.
“Well! I’m not having sex with you, caveman!” I crossed my arms over my breasts, noting too late that I wasn’t wearing a bra. That my nipples were hard. That they peaked against the material. A shiver that I knew all too well sizzled through my veins.
“That’s just fine, cailín.” Liam kicked the bedroom door closed and stomped into the bathroom. The shower rattled on a moment later.
With a huff, I threw myself down. My legs shifted together, and I realized with a rush of embarrassment how damp my sleeper shorts were. Angry at myself, I tried to ignore the arousal pulsing deep in my belly.
“He could have just asked me!” I muttered.
Would you have said yes?
I tugged on my bottom lip, grinding my teeth into the flesh. The answer I refused to give was exactly why he’d done what he’d done.
“He didn’t have to be so dramatic,” I groused.
Tucking myself under the blanket, as far to one side as I could go without falling off, I turned my back to the bathroom door, determined to fall asleep.
***
I did not sleep.
The sexual frustration increased by the minute. I kept my body locked and rigid. Any small shift sent a rush of heat coursing through me.
Liam was equally still. From the moment he slid into bed, he didn’t move. Only the soft sound of his breathing told me he was there. There was so much space between us.
Maybe it had been an hour. Maybe two.
But I’d had enough.
Kicking back the covers, I stalked to the bathroom, closed the door most of the way shut, and leaned against the sink. My body was a livewire. My skin crackled with energy. Sparks snapped in the most inconvenient places.
If I didn’t do something about it, I wouldn’t sleep.
As I brushed my fingers over my sleeper tee, my uncontrolled gaze lifted to the mirror. It focused on the reflection of the bedroom through the cracked door.
Why hadn’t I shut the damn thing?
I still could.
I didn’t.
That man was likely possessed. With no prior warning, he’d simply marched into the bedroom and lit the mattress on fire. What kind of beast did that?
One that turns you on….
I squeezed my eyes shut, clenched my jaw, and slid my hand into my shorts. My pussy was drenched. What did that make me? To be turned on by the unprovoked destruction of the guest room. To relish in the primal display of masculinity.
Liam wanted me. He took me.
It was that freaking simple.
But he wasn’t going to touch me, not unless I asked. And I was too damn mad to ask.
Which was why I was standing in the bathroom, rubbing my fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Pleasure ebbed through my veins. But…something was missing.
I relaxed my mind and gave up. Images of the giant beast railing me with his thick, hard, smooth cock flooded my mind.
My exhale was long. The muscles inside clenched. Pleasure coiled deep in my core.
“You’re such a dirty little thing,” a seductive, velvety voice murmured from the door.
With a squeak, I straightened instantly, pulled my hand away, and spun around.
“Don’t stop on my account.” Liam pushed the door open.
“Get out.”
He cocked his head to the side. He wasn’t…he wasn’t wearing his mask! But the dark room only made his outline visible in the shadows.
“No.” He leaned against the frame and crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I think I’m going to watch.”
“There’s nothing to see here,” I snapped, turning to rinse my fingers in the sink. The cold water was a shock against my hot, flushed skin.
Liam murmured. It was a deep, utterly devasting sound that rumbled from him. “You have five seconds to sit that pretty ass on the counter and start playing with yourself or—” his voice dropped an octave “—I’m going to bend you over it and fuck your tight ass until you scream.”
Left with such an inescapable option, I froze.
“Four.”
Fuck him.
“Three.”
I shimmied out of my pants.
“Two.”
I shucked the shirt over my head for good measure.
“One.”
I turned and jumped. My bare ass hit the granite with a thud that reverberated up my spine. The vanity was cold against my skin. I shivered.