Page 12 of Reckless Promises

Home.

That’s not a term I reserve for my father’s house, much less Cillian’s.

“Mr. Cross, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.” Sascha steps forward, his teeth grinding with his words. “Gabriel and I had a deal—"

“And I had the cash.” Cillian drops his hands to his sides, and his attention snaps to Sascha.

“I’m good for double,” Sascha tries to argue.

“Then you should have had it available.” I’ve seen plenty of people bow down to men like Sascha and my father, but Cillian isn’t the least bit affected, much less intimidated.

“If you’ll just—”

“We’re done here,” Cillian cuts Sascha off. “I’m not going to waste my time explaining how this works. You were outbid. Better luck next time.”

He walks around Sascha, completely disregarding him, which has Sascha’s cheeks turning bright red. Fire and rage light his eyes as he watches Cillian make his way to the door, pausing only once he reaches my father.

“Didn’t think you’d make it this easy.”

Dad clenches his teeth. “I won’t.”

“I appreciate that about you, even if it won’t do you any good.” Cillian glances back at me, tipping his chin, as one of his men stops at my side. “She’s a nice start, but we’ll see each other soon. And I promise, it won’t be as pleasant.”

My father’s jaw ticks as Cillian walks away. He watches the back of his head, and I’m not sure how he doesn’t sear holes into it. The tension that circulates the room has me digging my nails into my palms.

At the beginning of the night, I felt stronger. I knew what to expect, even if it meant ending up in Sascha’s bed. But as I watch Cillian disappear through the door, unease floods back. Sascha is disgusting and cruel, but Cillian is heartless. He’s merciless. And a man who doesn’t feel is the most terrifying of all.

“Let’s go, miss,” one of Cillian’s bodyguards says to me.

At least he doesn’t put his hands on me. Instead, he stands at my side and waits for me to take a step forward.

Dad’s bodyguards were more physical—rough even. They used any excuse to touch us and throw us around. Part of me worried that if I was alone with them, it might have been worse.

I reach for my purse, but another bodyguard snatches it up before I can, waving me forward. He won’t let me have my phone, my things. Nothing is really mine anymore as I hand myself over to the leader of the East Coast division of the Irish mafia.

Walking by my father, he holds my gaze, nodding only once as I pass.

Survive.

My dad’s taunt plays on repeat when I’m no longer sure that’s an option.

Cillian’s bodyguard holds the door open for me, and I step out into the cold night. The chill of winter seeps into my bones as I make my way to the car idled at the curb. Cillian is already inside when I climb in, and I wish the heated leather seats were enough to provide warmth that is the least bit comforting.

Cillian is on his phone, scrolling through texts. He barely glances up at me as I sit beside him, not caring that I’m shivering in this scrap of a dress. At least the car is warm when the door slams closed behind me. Unlike the man at my side.

The car pulls forward, and it’s just me and Cillian Cross, alone. The divider is closed between us and the driver, and the windows are so darkly tinted I can’t see out of them at night.

Music plays, but it’s too quiet to make out the words. At least it fills the empty silence as Cillian continues thumbing through his phone.

His posture is relaxed while every nerve inside me stands on its ends. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world, while he just flipped mine on its head.

“What now?” I ask after he continues to ignore me in this uncomfortable silence.

“We go home.”

He makes it sound so simple, not bothering to look up from his phone to answer.

“And then?”

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