Smyth clears his throat on the other end. “Sir, it’s in hand. You don’t need to—”
“Don’t tell me what I need to do, Smyth,” I snap, knowing that there’s no way in hell I’m staying here after he broke that news to me. I have a princess to punish, and I won’t be kept from her by a sniveling excuse of a politician who thinks he can play God and mess about with two mob bosses.
Smyth comes in through the door to the study. “Sir.”
“Make sure he signs the document Karl is coming in with.” I say, pinning him with a stern glare. “I need to deal with my wife.”
I march out of the room, entrusting Smyth to deliver, even though I trust no one. The detective hasn’t worked out who is behind the leak in my outfit, so it goes against every instinct to leave this to someone else. My wife is making me do things I’d never normally do.
I will deal with her harshly for trying to escape. Although taking the harsh route hasn’t been working to my advantage with her. Gwendolyne fights our connection every step of the way when all I want is for her to feel the way I do.
33
CILLIAN
Pain claws at my insides as if I’m being torn apart from the inside out. Gwendolyne stands in front of me. Her head hung because she’s been caught by my guards—caught trying to escape. I could have lost her tonight.
And here I was thinking she was beginning to feel what I felt.
“Leave us,” I say, glaring at the man who manhandled her. “And don’t ever touch my wife like that again, or you may end up with a hook for both hands yourself.”
He pales and bows his head. “Apologies, sir. It won’t happen again.” He leaves the room and shuts the door.
“Have a seat,” I say.
Gwendolyne looks at me, eyes dazzling with unshed tears. “Why don’t you let me go, Cillian?”
My nostrils flare as too many emotions swirl around insideme that I can hardly work out which one is most prominent. “Because you’re mine, Gwendolyne.”
She shakes her head. “You took me captive. I can never be yours, because I never chose to be.”
I clench my hand. “And you choose to be Piero’s?” I snap. The mere thought of him touching her driving me to the brink of a psychotic break. If she told me she wanted him, I’m not sure I could contain my rage. Fuck knows what I’d do, but I’d cause fucking carnage.
“At least he didn’t force me to marry him, take me against my will and then expect me to feel something other than disgust toward him.”
I march toward her and grab her chin, searching those beautiful eyes I’ve become addicted to looking into.
“Piero is no fucking hero, Gwendolyne. And you may see me as a villain, but who the fuck wants the prince, anyway?” I grind my teeth. “A prince will pick saving the day over saving you, but the villain... Me,” I confirm. “I’d do anything to ensure that you remain safe. You’re all that fucking matters to me. Do you understand?” I search those eyes for a flicker of emotion, something. “And if I remember rightly, that piece of shit, Piero, has no time for you anyway.”
Her expression softens a little. “Before you took me captive, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Those two weeks before you struck and became my captor, my mind was consumed with thoughts of you only...”
Hope flares to life. If that’s the case, all is not lost. There was something between us from the start and I refuse to believe it’s gone.
“And then you fucked it all up. You took me captive, forced me to marry you at gunpoint and then took my virginity like a cave man claiming his right.” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “If you’d had any sense, you wouldn’t have done any of it. And maybe then, Cillian, you would have won my heart fair and square.”
I release her chin and pace the floor of my study, trying to work out how to fix this. The fact is, I’m not a hero. She’s right, I’m one of the villains of the story, but I want her. I want her more than anything—even more than getting revenge on that piece of shit Piero. And despite wanting her love, I can’t let her go because I can’t risk Piero using her against me. He doesn’t care about her, and the quicker she learns it, the better.
“All hope can’t be lost,” I say, looking at her.
Her brow furrows. “If you let me go, maybe it won’t be.”
I shake my head. “That’s what people say when they want to get away and never look back.”
“And would that be so terrible?”
I march toward her and grab her throat, looking into her eyes deeply. “It would end me, Gwendolyne. You’re my world now and I won’t let you go. Not for anything.”
Her eyes widen. “Not if someone offered you a billion dollars?”