“You’ve given me no choice,” Kian says grimly. “I didn’t want to tie you up at all.”
I give him an incredulous look. “Every single piece of equipment in this room says otherwise.”
He smirks. “That’s for a different kind of party, wiseass,” he remarks before heading back to the staircase alone.
“How long are you going to keep me down here?” I yell at his back.
“Until you start being reasonable.”
I grit my teeth as he makes the first step. Then something else occurs to me. “What about my brother?”
He stops short and turns to me with a fiercely predatory look in his eye. Apparently, that question has set him off more than physical assault had. “What about that fucker?”
“His arm is broken.”
“Maybe the pain will help him build some character.”
“At least get him a doctor,” I beg. “Please.”
“Why are you fighting for that asshole?” demands Kian. “He’s never fought for you.”
The words are true. Maybe that’s why they sting so bad. “Yeah, well… I’m better than him.”
“I’m aware,” Kian murmurs almost gently. “I’m very fucking aware.”
His answer surprises me so much that I don’t even try and stop him when he disappears up the stairwell. I let out a squeal of frustration, not caring if he hears it or not. Then I collapse against the backrest of the seat and stare at my new cuffs.
They’re glossy, made of a light silver metal, and thick as hell. I know with a glance that there’s no way I’ll be able to get out of them unless someone lets me out.
And the chances of that happening are exactly zero.
As the minutes tick by, my head starts spinning with all the new revelations that Kian dropped on me on the yacht. My mother was a powerful mafia princess in her own right. The knowledge boggles as much as it cuts. Why had she not been in my life?
I’d been told exactly nothing about her, and I just assumed as I’d gotten older that my mother was a random nobody that my father had fucked. Drago certainly never corrected me on that. And I never thought about it. Never questioned it.
Now, all I have are questions.
Why had she given me over to my father?
Why had it taken her five years to marry him?
Why wasn’t she a part of my life?
I stop thinking when my head starts throbbing with fresh pain. That’s when I hear a sound on the stairwell and turn with a start. I gasp when I see Aisling standing on the bottom step with a tray in hand.
“Aisling!” I breathe. “I didn’t even hear you.”
“You seemed… far away,” she comments. “I’ve brought you something to eat.”
I am hungry, and I no longer have the strength or the will for another hunger strike. So when she approaches and sets the tray down beside me, I eye the food with interest.
She’s brought me two large sandwiches piled high with meat and cheese. It’s accompanied by a generous helping of thick-cut fries and fresh coleslaw on the side.
The smell coming off the plate is irresistible. I reach for a sandwich immediately. Given my cuffs, though, I’m not the most graceful eater. Meat falls out of the sandwich and onto my lap as I struggle to eat. “Shit…” I mumble with my mouth full.
“It’s okay,” Aisling says. “Let me.”
Patiently, she cleans away the stray pieces of meat and settles the plate squarely on my lap. Then she adjusts everything so it’s easier for me to reach. As she does, I glance at her out of the corner of my eyes, noticing her neutral expression. The last time we’d talked, I’d thrown a bunch of accusations in her face and stormed out. The guilt resurfaces in light of everything I know now.