Chapter 8
Part of me was concerned Cillian would march to the elevators and usher me back up to my prison, but to my surprise, he headed in the opposite direction.
The sheer arrogance of not even looking behind him to see if I followed rankled a little.
I was tempted to try to make a break for it across the casino, just to see what he’d do, but I had the feeling that would increase my shackles.
I skimmed my gaze over the floor around us, noting how security was stationed in every corner, clear from their black uniforms. Right. “This place is teeming with cameras, isn’t it?”
Cillian slowed and glanced back. “Contemplating your chances if you run? I wouldn’t.”
“Casino security. Right,” I commented, slipping my hands into my pockets as we bypassed chandeliers dripping with crystals, gleaming brass fixtures, and lines of slot machines, half of them jangling.
Cillian snorted. “As if I’d have something so simple watching over you.”
Which meant magic. I didn’t doubt Amelia held the key. She was his right hand, and he seemed to trust her in most things.
“Over this way,” he said, his tone brusque and demanding as usual.
The temptation to drag my heels rose, and I did slow my pace to a meander as I soaked in my surroundings.
Most patrons at the slots weren’t paying attention to us, but every employee stared wide-eyed.
Apparently they weren’t used to appearances from Cillian, and a few all but leapt out of his way as he swept by.
He stepped into a corridor to the right, along which lay massive windows with bright, cheerful sunlight streaming in.
I soaked it in, the feeling so close yet so far away.
I longed to be out there in the world, in the city, not trapped in the Spires like some fairytale damsel.
Still, even sitting in on a meeting and taking notes was a drastic improvement to the wasting away I’d done over the past week.
I’d been spiraling when I needed to be sharp.
But shadowing Cillian would keep me sharp.
I stilled in front of a window as the gardens emerged into view.
Fountains sparkled under the sunlight, and blooms in an array of pinks, purples, yellows, and reds stretched out, swirling in every direction.
The tapestry of explosive color mesmerized me, careful craftsmanship in the layout.
How such gorgeousness could exist in Peregrine City was beyond me, especially in this district, but the flowers and greenery seemed to have carved their own space here.
“Are you going to just gawk at it or join me?” Cillian asked, paused at a door that led outside.
My heart raced. He was taking me outside? I licked my lips, not willing to question the chance when I wanted the opportunity so badly. I quickened my pace to catch up, and he pushed the door open with a creak.
The air was fragrant, and the beams of the sun warmed my skin. I drank in a long, slow inhale, and the panic in me quieted for the first time since I’d arrived here. Fuck. Heat pricked at my eyes, but I refused to cry over stepping outside right now. Not in front of him.
“Your notes were thorough,” he commented.
“I worked as a librarian until I was unceremoniously plucked from my life,” I responded, walking a little faster to keep pace. “Note taking, cataloging, are basic skills in my repertoire.”
“You’re well read, then?”
I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact I couldn’t leave or the knowledge something odd was afoot with his choice of keeping me as his personal assistant, but my internal thoughts kept erupting from my mouth. “No, I’m a librarian who hates books.”
A rasping noise sounded from him, suspiciously resembling a laugh. Though that couldn’t be correct, as Cillian Ashmore was a heartless demon who couldn’t see past his own ego.
The soothing sound of water flowing in the distance calmed me, and watching tulips sway in the gentle breeze added to the serenity. The occasional passersby wandered through these gardens, but they seemed to be wildly underutilized compared to the casino floor.
“Why is anyone in there when this exists?” I asked, not expecting an answer.
“People mistake city lights for the stars,” Cillian said. His words were simple, blunt, but they settled deep in my bones with a resonance I didn’t want to admit.
“Then why spend so much time lurking at the tip-top of your Spires?” I asked as we meandered past a burbling fountain, the water droplets sparkling like cut diamonds.
Whether it was the cozy rays of the sun or the warm breezes loosening my tongue, something unwound in me despite the monster I walked beside.
“Do you always ask this many questions?” he asked.
“Why do you think I became a librarian?” Even saying the words summoned some slight sadness, though, as I already missed Peregrine City’s. It had become a second home to me, and there was a comfort in the stacks I rarely found elsewhere.
He lapsed into silence as we wandered through the gardens, the red and yellow tulips bright and eye-catching.
The light, sweet fragrances from the flowers drifted my way, and I drank them in deep, keeping pace with “The Beast,” as the corporate world called Cillian Ashmore.
Though keeping pace with him was putting me a bit out of breath as his massive legs carried him much faster.
Up ahead, a massive fountain with a pale limestone base and large basin splashed high in the air, and white benches were laid out around it in intervals. Clematis vines twined around them, the bright purple blooms a stark contrast.
“They’ll meet us here,” Cillian said cryptically, because the man couldn’t seem to deliver a straight statement. Truthfully, I hadn’t met a single person in his employ who did. Maybe they took a seminar on it. He headed for the nearest bench and found a seat.
I sidled up next to the bench, not bothering to sit. I’d just spent the last few hours right next to him, and I’d been overwhelmed enough by the power rolling off him, the sheer intimidation, the scent of brimstone and amber and musk.
Cillian spread his arms over the back of the bench, his massive shoulders on clear display. He arched a brow at me. “Afraid of monsters?”
“No, just can’t handle whatever cologne you’ve got slathered on,” I responded, unable to keep the bite out of my tone. His presence kept me on edge, something I was aware of yet hated in the same breath.
A low rumble emerged from his chest, but whether I’d pissed him off or amused him wasn’t clear. I swallowed, my throat dry.
“Sit,” he said.
“I’m not a dog.” Why I couldn’t seem to hold my tongue around him was beyond me, but he hadn’t lashed out yet. Another mystery to add to the stack.
“If you were a dog, you’d be far more loyal and much less inquisitive,” Cillian responded.
“Spoken like someone who’s never met a dog before,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I’m more of a cat person anyway.”
“Figures.”
Annoyance flared through me, and the urge to push back rose up hard. This was the man who held my future in his palm, and the smart move would be to remain quiet, to sit back and observe, but he sparked my temper like no one I’d ever met.
A few employees, clear from their navy-blue suitcoat and cream blouse uniforms, headed in our direction. I hadn’t sat, and I wasn’t planning on doing so with Cillian taking up far too much space on the bench. They hauled over a few bags and cup-laden carriers, which sparked my curiosity.
“Here’s everything requested,” one of the employees said, a slight tremble to her voice. “Do you need us to set it up?”
Cillian jerked his head no.
They dropped off the bags as well as the carriers, all three of them buzzing. One of the guys offered a salute, which seemed so ridiculous I had to bite back a laugh. Their fear of him was clear, and maybe I was insane for not having the same reaction to this massive demon beside me.
“Let us know if you need anything else,” he said before darting off.
“Thank you,” I offered.
The fact Cillian hadn’t even said a word to them didn’t escape me, and I bit back a few choice opinions regarding that.
However, my stomach rumbled at the scents rising from the bags they’d brought over.
Given his level of consideration, though, the meal was probably for him while I would be left to fend for myself.
He leaned forward and grabbed one of the bags, then passed it over to me. “For lunch.”
I blinked in surprise, the gesture enough that I took a seat on the bench beside him and accepted the bag.
The box inside was marked as being from one of the restaurants in the Spires, and I opened mine to find a ham and brie baguette sandwich.
The salty scent made me lick my lips, and I didn’t hesitate to take a bite.
The flavors exploded on my tongue, and I withheld a groan.
Cillian’s stare bored into me. His bag rested on his lap, but his golden gaze locked onto me with an intensity that made me shiver. I swiped at the side of my lips, sure something had to be clinging there.
“Going to eat or just brood?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head. “Here.” He passed over one of the drinks from the holder. “If you don’t want more coffee, I can get one of the staff to bring you a water or something else.”
“I’ll happily accept coffee.” I placed the sandwich down to take the warm drink. After going a week without a good cup, I was desperate, even if I’d most likely be jittery later. “Your fancy kitchen contraptions for brewing some don’t make a lick of sense to me.”
“You could do a search for the model,” he commented. “Most instruction manuals are online.”