Chapter 29 #2
I rolled my eyes to the tune of his laid-back brother’s chuckles.
Brody, in comparison, said little to nothing.
He seemed the type to speak only when he had something to say, and those choices generally revolved around data and logistics.
During the rare private call that Cillian put on speaker because his hands were busy, Brody opened up a little, but definitely not with me.
Maybe that would change after I met him in person.
“This calls for a stout drink. I say we brothers meet down at the Rose and Dragon in an hour.”
I raised my brows. Brody’s words hit loud and clear. I was unwanted during their brotherly bonding time.
“You two go on ahead,” Cillian answered as he nuzzled my cheek. Warmth spilled from the contact down between my legs, exactly where his hand drifted. “I’ll be staying in and celebrating with my woman.”
I fought to drag my moan back in when he pinched my clit.
This was not the time, not when his brothers could hear everything, and he knew it.
The joker needed to rein in his satisfied smirk before I did it for him.
I licked the back of my teeth, lips puckered in mock upset, and pinched the nerve between his thumb and index finger to force him to let go.
A dark swirl of lust twisted his features.
“Ach, come on. Get out a little,” Liam pleaded across the line.
“Go,” I said. “I’ll be fine here. Or better yet, I’ll spend some time with Maeve. It’s been too long.”
I drummed my thumbs against his arm holding me at the prospect of a much-needed girls’ night out. Hopefully, Erel would spare her for one night.
Cillian’s jaw clenched, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged as his hold around me went rigid. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving her.”
“Killy, this is getting excessive. Arthur and Devin can more than handle her protection.”
I practically growled. “I’ll have you know I’m more than able to protect myself.”
“I know you can.” Cillian squeezed my hand in reassurance of that truth, but the words came out too harsh, chewed up in his growing frustration, to offer any consolation. “I’d reckon half my men don’t stand a chance against you, but I’d rather you not have to.”
“What exactly can you do that they can’t?” Liam argued. “Leave your woman at home. Give her some peace, for feck’s sake. It’s only one night.”
“One night is all it takes.” Cillian’s yell echoed through his office as his fist slammed against his desk. Rage surged through him like I hadn’t seen since that street fight over a month and a half ago, blotching his neck and cheeks red.
“All it takes for what?”
My question went unanswered as the brothers spoke over each other.
They volleyed words faster than I could catch on, their accents thickening to the point I caught one word out of every five, like an English novice, before they started lobbing some Gaelic in there too.
After asking a second time and being ignored, I tossed my hands up, wiggled free, and left the office to relax a few minutes away from the toxic blend of physical and virtual testosterone.
Their voices roared through the ajar door across the living room and kitchen, like a television left on in the middle of the night.
His brothers probably resented me for taking so much of Cillian’s time, but starved as I was for everything he kept offering, I didn’t really have it in me to care.
Neither of them made an effort to get to know me over the last month since I moved in with Cillian.
I still hadn’t even met Brody, and Liam only visited when he needed something.
Whatever. I was hungry.
In his large pristine kitchen, I fixed myself a ham-and-cheese homemade baguette sandwich.
The scrape of the screw cap against the jar of mayonnaise resounded through the empty space.
The rasp of the ham’s plastic wrap opening crackled over the men’s squabbling, and the tap of the knife against the jar clanged loudly.
I bit through my sandwich. Even my chewing was loud and overbearing.
Too quickly, I gobbled the rest. Then there was nothing left to do. I traced a line of marbling in the granite and trilled my lips. Tap, tap, clap, my hands slapped in a poor rhythm that would make my musician sister-in-law cringe if she heard it, but she wasn’t here. No one was.
I slouched over the counter, no poise, no grace, just wasting time.
My bare feet rubbed against each other for warmth from the chilled tiles.
Bored, I thumbed through music options on my phone as Cillian’s angered voice whirred in the background, but none of the songs satisfied my sudden restlessness.
With unease scattering jitters over my shoulders, I cracked my neck and shifted in place. What was wrong with me?
The last few weeks had been a nonstop whirlwind of fucking, visits, activities, eating out, talking… This was probably the longest time I’d spent out of Cillian’s company since moving in. He always kept me occupied in one thing or another, usually him.
I jerked upright and frowned. That was it, wasn’t it? I’d gotten so used to his constant presence and the space he took up that a little time alone left me unmoored. Well, shit. When had I turned into such a simp for the man I swore to emotionally wreck?
A notification pinged with a video forwarded by Maeve. I dove onto that lifeline and called her immediately.
“Salut, ma belle.”
“Oh wow,” she responded in greeting.
“That’s a very strange hello.”
“No, just surprised. If you’re calling me, does that mean he finally let you out of your cage?”
I chuckled awkwardly. “Cage?”
“Oh, come on. Babe, he’s been Stockholming you for the last month.”
“We’ve gone out many times.”
“Sure, but on your own?”
I licked my lips, not thrilled where this conversation was headed. “Well, no, but we have been busy. I told you all about it.”
“Right, all by text. We’ve had few phone calls, pretty much all initiated by me. Seriously, if he’s kidnapped you, say red flag right now, and I’ll come save you.”
“You’re ridiculous. It’s been a choice. I’ve enjoyed my time with him.”
“Sure. If you say so.”
“Maeve…”
“Even Erel’s been worried about whatever is going on with you two. That should tell you something. Other than whatever business you had together, he told me he hasn’t really heard from you either.”
A prick of pain pulled my attention down to my nails, where I had picked a cuticle back. I cringed and tried to smooth the skin back in place.
“I’m fine. I promise.”
“Listen, babe. How about we meet up tomorrow? I’ll push some things around so we can have some girl time.”
“Not tomorrow. Cillian and I planned a full day with indoor karting and then a flight to see the Niagara Falls.”
“Sweetie, do you hear yourself? You’ve spent the last month with him nonstop. Surely, he can fit me into your tight schedule. I haven’t seen you at all. I need my Frenchie fix.”
“No, ah, my ears. Not that nickname.” Her using it meant she had reached the end of her patience.
“Well then, don’t keep me waiting.”
I dropped my forehead to the cool granite island top and groaned. “Fine. We can postpone.”
Her voice dropped into a low and hoarse shriek. “Yes. Finally. That a girl.”
“There’s no need to exaggerate.”
“Meh, I’ll be the judge of that. Okay, so lunch? There’s this new place on Boston Wharf Road I’ve been dying to try out.”
“As long as we go dress shopping after.”
“Yikes, not my idea of fun. Reel that back in, please.”
“Impossible.”
A shadow shifted and grew in the open sliver of Cillian’s office doorway.
His hand slipped through and opened the door fully.
Tension seemed to slough off his shoulders when he locked eyes with me.
With a little gesture to the phone pressed to his ear, he turned back into his office but left the door open.
It gave me a direct line of sight to his desk, which he sat back at, still in full conversation.
Direct line for me to see him or for him to see me? Maeve called this my cage. Was that what he was doing? Keeping an eye on a pet?
I mulled on my bottom lip and busied myself with the coffee machine. Caffeine worked wonders at reducing my restlessness. The machine buzzed and whirred as it spat and poured the soul-black liquid into a teacup.
“Al, you all good?”
“Yes, coffee break.”
“So confirm. Dress shopping’s a no, right?”
I huffed and gulped down the espresso. “You wish. I need your opinion.”
“Didn’t mobster man buy you a new wardrobe?”
Cillian glanced up over his laptop and snagged me in his snare. How often did he do that? It hadn’t bothered me before Maeve’s comments. In fact, I’d found his constant attention endearing. Now, I wondered if I wasn’t deluding myself. I wrapped my arm around my waist and turned my back to him.
“He did, but this is for a gala coming up in a few days. He planned for a personal shopper to come, but this is the perfect excuse for you and me to spend some time together.”
“You need an excuse?”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I? Do you?”
“Maeve,” I groaned.
“Fine.” She huffed. “He’s not right next to you, is he?”
I side-eyed Cillian, again meeting his not-so-stealthy gander, forced a smile, and walked around the island, just out of sight where he’d need to lean far over to see me. “No, of course not. Why?”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“Seriously, stop it. I’m not a prisoner.”
As if on cue, Cillian’s head came into view at an angle. With a wide motion, I shooed him off and mouthed “Stop.” What was his issue?
“So you could leave at any time?”
“Of course.”
I treaded to the door, not to prove her wrong, but because I wanted to. After slipping on my sandals, I opened the door and flinched so hard my soul almost left my body.