Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Ada
“ W hat is that supposed to mean?”
Kieran doesn’t answer, he just pushes my plate toward me. My brow knits in confusion. What does he mean that I’m not going to have to worry about any of that anymore? How exactly does he think that he’s going to be able to fix something that teams of doctors haven’t been able to fix?
“Tell me, oh kidnapper man, just how to do you plan to ensure that I won’t ever have to worry about my eating disorder again? Or have I missed the fact that you are a magician this whole time?.” I say with a huff as I cross my arms over my chest and arch my brow.
“I’ll take care of you.” Kieran says, that sexy accent sounding so confident and self-assured that it makes me momentarily doubt myself. It’s like he really does know something that I don’t, somehow. He speaks like my future is already set in stone and I’m helpless to do anything but allow this all to happen to me. His tone is commanding, firm, but there’s also an unexpected softness beneath it that confuses me.
It’s just so simple for him, isn’t it?
I was honest, and vulnerable with him and he just says that it’s something that’s just going to be fixed with a snap of his fingers? He’s just going to ‘take care’ of me? He doesn’t understand anything.
I never should have opened my mouth. I never should have said a word to him about it. I should have just let him think whatever he wanted about me.
I laugh bitterly and push away from the kitchen counter that I’m sitting at. With a huff, I start to walk out like there’s anywhere for me to fucking go. My vision tinges red as that fact settles over me and I stand on the precipice of the kitchen, chewing on the inside of my cheek. There’s nowhere for me to go. There’s nothing for me to do. I’m stuck here, and at his delusional mercy.
“I hate you.” I seethe, spinning to use my words like knives, my tone sharp and biting enough that I hope he feels what I’m saying. “The only thing that I will ever want from you is to let me go! Cristiano will come for me, and I hope I get to see him snuff the light out of your eyes for ever daring to touch me!”
Kieran merely rolls his eyes at me. He’s so infuriating.
“Oh, is that so?” He takes another bite of his steak, speaking around his bite, waving his fork like we’re just having the most casual conversation in the world. “If you’re that desperate, it’s not like you need to work.”
My reaction is childish but I can’t stop the mocking laughter that leaves me. “Oh, so that’s what you think of me? That I’m just a Dominio mafia princess who lounges around and is content to ride her brother’s pocketbook? I just need to get my hair and my nails done and look pretty without a thought in my head until my brother decides to marry me off to the highest bidder? Just a set of holes to be used for political purposes?”
I’ve never heard anything quite so insane in my whole life.
“Simmer down, that’s hardly what I said.” Kieran’s eyes alight with something, like he’s deeply enjoying getting a rise out of me. Bastard.
“You might as well have! I’m not just going to sit around and wait for somebody to take care of me! I am my own person! I’m sorry that’s shocking to you. I’m sure you have a ton of women-belong-in-the-kitchen jokes, it’s fucking offensive.” I shout at him. I can’t stop yelling. It’s like something in me has toppled over.
“I misunderstood, but by all means, keep going.” Kieran continues.
I don’t even fully realize that he’s been moving closer to me the whole time that I’ve been yelling at him.
“Fuck yes, you misunderstood! My job is so much more to me than a fucking paycheck. You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to be where I am today. What I need to get back to, if you haven’t ruined my whole fucking career by snatching me from the biggest event of my life. I have sacrificed everything to get where I am!”
It’s more than just that. It’s about control. It’s my identity and the thing that I love the most. It’s my desperate attempt to hold onto something that is mine . When my father died, my family almost fell apart and my modeling was the only thing that I had left.
Kieran reaches out and attempts to place a hand on my arm, likely to calm me down. But that’s the last fucking thing that I want.
“Don’t touch me!” I fume, yanking myself away from him. I might not be able to run from him, but I will be damned if he’s going to put a hand on me again.
“Settle down, Ada, you’re going to have a fit or something.” Kieran says and tries to grab a hold of me and I dance away again but he catches me by the waist and pulls me back into his chest. I spin with some difficulty as his grip tightens, hitting at his chest and attempting to shove myself away from him no matter what it takes. I’m intent on giving him another scratch on the other side of his face since, clearly, I wasn’t effective enough the first time around.
If anything, he seems pleased that I’m fighting him. Sadistic bastard.
He wraps my arms across my chest and manages to pin me between his body and the kitchen island. I can feel his heavy breaths against my cheek.
“So what is it about your job that you can’t live without? The stress? Or, maybe you like hurting yourself by staying in an environment that is clearly toxic for you.” Kieran chuckles. “Perhaps you have a touch of masochism in you, too? I can work with that, Ada.”
His lips brush against the shell of my ear as he speaks. Such a shockingly soft touch when compared to the firm way he’s holding me. His body is every bit as muscular as I imagined it to be. I can feel everything from the way he’s holding me so easily in his arms. It’s not a big stretch of my imagination to think that he could very well do the same sort of manhandling in other circumstances, and it takes my breath away.
I wish I had a response for him.
But, maybe he’s right? Not that I will ever say that out loud. Over my dead body.
He spins me, pushing me partially up onto the counter and holding my gaze and stealing my breath.
“Touch a nerve, did I?” Kieran says, his gaze dropping to my lips.
For a moment, I forget to fight him. I forget that I’m supposed to be fighting him with everything that I have and trying my damned hardest to get away from him. He’s the enemy. I certainly shouldn’t be feeling like this. I feel overly warm, like the room is shrinking down to only exist in the small, overly heated space that he and I are standing. What the hell is it about him that makes me feel like this? I can’t keep my thoughts in order.
His hand shifts, his fingers curling under my face and his thumb resting on my chin. He tilts my head up to say something, and the doorbell rings.
Like icy cold water dumped over our heads, he moves away from me and his grip loosens.
I can’t tear my eyes away from him. There’s something heavy and expectant in his gaze but neither of us seem to be able to find the words that we need.
I feel the tension between us snap, replaced by a whole other kind of anxiety.