Chapter 11 Eleven
Fianna.
It was day five, and I was already losing my goddamn mind. The walls of this apartment felt like they were closing in on me, inch by inch, until I couldn’t breathe without feeling trapped. Boredom had turned into this gnawing insanity and I had caught myself muttering conversations to the empty air more times than I could count, debating with shadows about stupid things like whether the coffee maker hated me or if the curtains were judging my life choices.
Even Isla was only around at night for a conversation. But sleep? Ha. I was exhausted, bone-deep tired from doing absolutely nothing.
I sighed heavily, slumping against the headboard of my bed, when I heard the front door click shut.
Kian.
Finally. This was only the second time he had bothered to come home in five days, and today? Not even a glance in my direction. Ever since the caretaker had started showing up, it was like I had become invisible to him. No more forced check-ins, no more awkward hovering. He probably figured his “duty” was done, like I was some package he had signed for and could now ignore.
Not like I wanted his attention but common courtesy.
I shook my head, trying to shake off the frustration bubbling up inside me. No way was I letting him slip away again without at least trying to break this boredom. I pushed myself off the bed, my heart racing a little as I cracked open my door and stepped into the hallway.
He was just about to head out with his hand on the knob, when I called out, “Kian?”
He turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with that sharp, piercing stare that always made my stomach twist. Like he could see right through me, straight to all the messy parts I tried to hide. I forced a sigh, trying to play it casual.
“How are you doing?”
His brows shot up, surprise flickering across his face for a split second before it hardened again. “What?”
I twitched my mouth, feeling a bit awkward now that I started this. But screw it because I was desperate.
“I’m bored out of my skull. I would like to tag along wherever you are going.”
He just stared at me, unblinking. Then, in that low, brutal tone of his, “I’m going to meet up with my hookup.”
Ouch. That hit like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist that made my chest ache. But I plastered on a small smile, refusing to let him see it.
“Fine. I’ll stand by and watch quietly. Promise.”
Kian rubbed his face with one hand, frustration etched in every line of his body. “What the hell is your problem?”
I shrugged, keeping my voice light even though my pulse was hammering. “No problem. I just want to come with you. See the outside world for a bit. This place is driving me nuts.”
He exhaled sharply. “I’m going to my club.”
“Fair enough,” I said quickly, not wanting to give him an out. “That could work.”
He paused, eyeing me like he was weighing whether to argue or just give in. Finally, “I will wait. You’ve got five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” I shouted. “That’s way too short! What’s your issue? Can’t you be soft for once?”
He growled, actually growled, his voice dropping to something dark and final.
“Anything like softness between us isn’t possible.”
I glared at him, heat rising in my cheeks. “Twenty minutes,” I snapped, turning on my heel and heading back to my room. I heard him mutter something under his breath which was probably a curse, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I pumped my fist in the air, a silent victory yell escaping as I dove face-first onto the bed. I screamed into the pillow, kicking my feet like a kid who had just won the lottery. Finally! I was getting out of this fucking dungeon. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through me, chasing away the boredom.
I bolted into the bathroom, yanking my hair up into a messy bun. The shower was quick but thorough as hot water cascaded over me. I stepped out, towel wrapped snugly around my body, droplets trailing down my skin. And then, the door burst open.
I screamed, pure reflex, my heart leaping into my throat. Kian stood there, frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide for a fraction of a second.
We both just… stared. I gulped hard, feeling exposed, water still dripping from my hair and shoulders. His gaze scanned me, slow and deliberate, narrowing as it traveled down. Heat flooded my face, not just embarrassment, but something else, something electric that made my skin tingle.
“What the hell are you doing barging in like that?” I snarled, my voice sharper than I intended.
He snapped out of it, blinking like he had been caught in a trance. “Sorry,” he muttered, but it didn’t sound all that apologetic. “You were taking too long. I came to check.”
“Well, things are fine, as you can see,” I shot back, gesturing vaguely at myself, trying to regain some control.
His eyes darkened, that intensity back in full force. “You’ve already used thirty minutes. I’m running late.”
I rolled my eyes, clutching the towel tighter. “I will be out soon. Now get out.”
But he didn’t move. He just stood there, clearing his throat, his voice coming out hoarse. “What outfit are you putting on?”
I stared at him because he was going crazy. Was he serious? “What?”
“I just want to know,” he said, his tone shifting to something almost possessive. “Don’t put on anything exposing.”
Okay, now I was sure something was wrong with his head. He had to be going insane.
“Get out,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “I’m getting really annoyed now. Just… out.”
He snarled, low and frustrated, but finally turned and slammed the door behind him. “Waiting in the lobby downstairs,” he called through the wood.
I sank onto the bed, towel still wrapped around me, my mind reeling. What the hell had just happened? Was Kian bipolar? One minute he was ignoring me, the next he was barging in and trying to dictate my wardrobe?
Why did he think he had any right to tell me what to wear? I hissed through my teeth, anger simmering as I marched to the closet.
I had planned on something simple like jeans, tank top, and boots. But after that nonsense? No way. I rummaged for a minute, my fingers brushing over fabrics I hadn’t touched in ages, before pulling out the two-piece black outfit.
It was bold, forgotten in the back for the last two years. I slipped it on in front of the mirror, adjusting the top that barely contained my boobs and the shorts that let my ass spill out just enough to turn heads. I swiped on crimson red lipstick, let my hair tumble down in waves, and stared at my reflection.
Damn, I looked gorgeous.
Grabbing my phone, I marched out, the click of my heels echoing in the hallway. The elevator ride down felt eternal, my nerves buzzing. When the doors opened, eyes were on me immediately. Lobby staff, guests, everyone stealing glances.
I scanned for Kian and spotted him on a couch, cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling up lazily.
His head lifted, and our eyes met. His gaze turned dark, murderous, like a storm cloud ready to unleash. He stood up in a flash, marching toward me with long strides.
“Go back inside and change that damn outfit,” he growled, voice low and dangerous.
I cocked an eyebrow, planting my feet. “No.”
“I’m not saying it again,” he snarled, stepping closer. “Walk back upstairs and change.”
I shook my head, poked a finger into his chest and felt his hard muscle under my touch. “I’m not changing shit. You think you can control me? I’m not your damn fucking wife.”
He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tight I thought it might crack. “If I find a man checking you out in the next minute, I will slit his throat.”
I chuckled, though my heart skipped. “I’m hot. Everyone’s gonna check me out, including ladies. Give it up and let’s go.”
In my head, I knew he was bluffing. He was Insane, sure, but he wouldn’t actually slit someone’s throat over a look. It was too intangible, too ridiculous.
His eyes narrowed dangerously, a warning I should have heeded. Then, a young guy strolled by, college age, his eyes dropping to my chest as he whistled appreciatively. In a slutty way.
Before I could blink, Kian moved. In a flash, he grabbed the guy by the collar, slamming him against the reception counter with a thud that echoed through the lobby. A knife appeared in his hand, where the hell had that come from? He pressed it right against the guy’s neck.
My eyes widened in horror. “Kian!” I marched over, grabbing his arm, pulling. “Stop!”
He wasn’t listening, his face twisted in rage as he snarled at the guy. “You’re dead meat for staring at her like that.”
The guy whimpered, his eyes bulging, darting to me in desperation. “Please… beg him… I didn’t mean…”
I closed my eyes for a second, sighing deeply, trying to steady myself. This was real. This was happening. Opening them again, I said, “Let him go, Kian. You can’t kill a guy over this.”
“Try me,” he growled, pressing the blade harder, a thin line of blood appearing.
“Stop it!” I screamed, my voice echoing.
He snarled back at me without looking. “I warned you. I’m slitting any guy who stares, and I’m not fucking bluffing.”
Shit. He wasn’t joking. My stomach dropped.
“Fine! I will change the outfit.”
Kian straightened slowly, shoving the guy away hard enough that he clutched his neck, gasping. The poor kid scrambled off, not looking back.
Kian barely glanced at me. “Ten minutes.”
I couldn’t even speak as words stuck in my throat as I stared at this madman. Who was he? I turned on my heel, heading back to the elevator, my mind a whirlwind. The doors closed, and I leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
What had I gotten myself into? Kian wasn’t just intense; he was dangerous. Possessive in a way that scared me… and, if I was honest, intrigued me a little too much.
Back in my room, I stripped off the outfit, tossing it aside with a frustrated huff. Jeans, tank top, boots, it was. No more games. But as I dressed, I couldn’t stop replaying the scene. His eyes on me in the towel. The way he had snapped at that guy. Was this jealousy? Control? Or something darker?
Eight minutes later, I stepped out of the elevator again, scanning for him. He was back on the couch, cigarette gone, his arms crossed. His eyes flicked over me, approval mixed with lingering annoyance.
“Better?” I asked, my voice sarcastic.
He stood, nodding curtly. “Let’s go.”
The drive to the club was silent at first, the city lights blurring past the windows. I stole glances at him, his strong jaw, focused eyes on the road.
Finally, I broke the quiet. “What was that back there? You almost killed a guy over a whistle.”
“He disrespected you,” he said flatly, like it was obvious.
“Disrespected me? Or you?” I pressed, turning in my seat.
His grip tightened on the wheel. “Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it does. You barge into my room, tell me what to wear, then go psycho on some random dude. What’s your deal, Kian?”
He glanced at me, his eyes unreadable. “My deal is keeping things in line. You wanted out, fine. But on my terms.”
I laughed bitterly. “Your terms? I’m not your property.”
“You’re under my roof,” he shot back. “That makes you my responsibility.”
“Responsibility? Or obsession?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.