Page 20 of Reckless Desires

“Come,” he demands, heading down the hall.

I follow without a word, observing my new cage. This one, though, is colorful—hues of blue, red, and green throughout. The foyer opens into a space that breathes with light, a seamless transition into an open-plan expanse where the boundaries between kitchen, living, and dining blur into one.

My heels click on the premium marble-grey tile floor. To the left, the kitchen stands as the heart of the home, a masterpiece of clean lines and quiet luxury. Quartz countertops shimmer under the recessed lighting, the cool, stone surfaces contrasting beautifully with the rich, dark cabinetry. It’s a space designed for lingering, where the hum of a hidden dishwasher is the only intrusion in the stillness.

“You live alone?” I question.

“This was my mother’s home.”

Moving further into the living area, the atmosphere shifts from functional to intimate. A Stovax wood-burning stove sits as the room's anchor, its glass face promising long, amber-lit evenings. Above, a discreet projector screen waits, ready to transform this quiet sanctuary into a private theater at a moment’s notice.

“Explains a lot,” I comment.

Killian stops and turns in my direction. “It may not be up to your standards, but if you prefer a metal cage, it can be arranged.”

I gulp, watching him walk toward the staircase and up the flight of stairs. “The bedrooms are up here. Follow me.”

My feet are frozen to the floor.

“Now!” he shouts, his voice echoing down the stairs, piercing through my bones.

I can’t follow him, but my feet don’t seem to get the message. It’s like my body is forcing me to act on autopilot, doing whatever it takes to keep me alive. Each step I take has my chest tightening and the walls closing in around me. Everything around me starts to shake, or maybe it’s me that’s shaking. I can’t tell. I sink down on the bottom step, clutching my knees to my chest. I breathe in for eight and breathe out for four, repeating it over and over again.

It doesn’t help.

I could fight back, but if I do that, he’s going to kill me. Or he’s going to make me suffer.

“Liliana!” he snaps, coming down the stairs with thudding footsteps that turn my blood to ice. “Do I need to drag your ass up the stairs by your hair?”

I get to my feet, feeling like my legs are going to give out. When I turn, he’s standing there, glowering down at me. One foot moves in front of the other, and I grip the railing until my knuckles turn white and ache.

The upper level reveals a layout of thoughtful privacy. The floor tile gives way to wide-plank oak-effect flooring, a softer, warmer texture underfoot. There are four doors up here.

Killian points to one. “Bathroom.” He points to another. “I’ll be sleeping in there. You can choose any of the other rooms.”

What gives him the audacity to be a prick? I’m here against my will; I’m not running. Can’t he just be kind? I wonder if his mother raised him this way.

“Why are you doing this?” I question, placing my hands on my hips. “You know once my sisters learn that you’re keeping me locked up here, it will be hell for you.”

“Will it?” he challenges, stepping closer to me. “They don’t even know you’re missing. I take it they believe you’re off traveling or on some rich man’s yacht, fucking him for free shit.”

I react before I process whether this is a good move. My hand smacks his face. “You know nothing about me.”

He sticks his tongue inside his mouth against his cheek, adjusting his face as he turns his head back to face me. Killian’s piercing blue eyes, which seem to hold a thousand untold stories, shift from cold calculation to a smoldering intensity. With each step he takes forward, I take one back until I’m up against the wall.

“I know enough.” He reaches out, his fingers trailing along the side of my cheek, grazing the side of my neck, pausing when my pulse jumps. A whimper escapes me before I can hold it back, and the bastard smirks. He looks pleased with himself as he steps away. “You really need a shower.”

“I’m sure your mother would be really proud of you,” I spit out.

“I’ll ask her when I visit her grave tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder.

Shutting my eyes, I silently curse to myself. I head for one of the doors, but the knob is stuck. My body flinches when I feel Killian push it open from behind me. I feel numb as I step into the room. It’s all warm browns and greens and flowing white linens that feel like settling into an enchanted forest somewhere. It’s not the kind of bedroom I would ever plan for myself, but I’m grateful I at least have a bed and not a cold floor to sleep on.

Killian stands in the doorway as I enter the room. The holster on his chest holds a gun on each side of his obliques. A dark thought crosses my mind for a moment. Could I get my hands on one and use it on myself?

“You don’t have the balls to do it,” Killian says as though knowing what I was thinking.

Pretending otherwise, I ask, “Do what?”