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“Say when? Before you kidnapped me or after you held a gun to my head?”
There’s that damn laugh again. “You must love the Museum, then.”
The snort that escapes my lips is unladylike. I dab my mouth with a napkin, mostly to hide my mortified face. Then I compose myself and say, “No, I hate the Museum. It’s overcrowded and dusty and I’m stuck in it for twenty-four hours a day.”
Silence fills the air, broken only by the scraping of my fork against the plate.
“When did you start restoring things?”
“When you decided to claim me.”
The truth slips from my mouth like butter on a warm day. Lorcan fingers the rim of his whiskey glass, then leans in, closing the gap between us. “Why?”
Heat rises to my cheeks; for once it’s not because I’m embarrassed but because I’m annoyed at his naivety.
“To make as much money as I possibly could. To get the hell out of Boston. Toescape you.”
He regards me now with sheer fascination. “And how did that work out for you?”
“How do you think?”
A small chuckle this time, before reclining in his seat, framing me with a gaze.
“So, Stanford.”
My fork clatters against the plate. “Are you trying to write my autobiography?”
“No, I’m trying to get to know you. Stanford. Why?”
“They have the best business school in the country. I loved restoring antiques, but I loved the money it made me too,” I say truthfully.
“That’s an incredible achievement.”
Our eyes lock. He seems like he means it. Suddenly, my heart is too heavy and plummets into the depths of my stomach. I’ve spent the last week focusing on the present, trying my best to forget about the past and not think about the future. Yes, getting into Stanfordwasan incredible achievement. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and now the Devil, in all his glory, has taken that from me.
“Your father must be so proud,” he says, each word coming from his mouth slow and deliberate. He’s watching me, assessing me, for my reaction.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say through gritted teeth. It’s crazy how much anger bubbles in my gut the second my father pops into my head. “I don’t speak to him.”
Lorcan’s drink doesn’t make it to his lips. He frowns over his glass. “You don’t speak to your father?”
“No,” I all but hiss. “I haven’t spoken to him since the day he let you stake your claim on me.”
It’s my turn to study him, and it’s fascinating watching the Devil unravel. His perma-scowl slips from his brow, only long enough for me to see the pure shock underneath. He slowly returns his drink to the table, without ever having taken a sip.
I feel something. A shift in the room. One that might give me an edge.
Maybe this is my way out.
“My father doesn’t care that I’m here, Lorcan. My father probably doesn’t evenknow.” My hands are sweaty as I roll the silk napkin between my thumb and forefinger. “Taking me was a way to get back at him, but it hasn’t worked.” Lorcan’s staring at a spot above my head. I’m not sure he’s even listening. The panic rises in my throat like I can see the countdown clock on a bomb. It only has seconds until it explodes, and I have to do everything I can to stop that from happening. “He doesn’tcare,Lorcan,” I all but squeal. “My father doesn’t care! I’m not part of this world. There’s no reason to keep me.Please.Just let me go. Let me—”
The Devil is quick to cut me off, sliding his hand around my neck, moving my hair to expose my throat to him. The sudden move knocks all the desperate air from my lungs.
His lips slide over my throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps. They glide over the throbbing vein in my neck, up to the curve of my chin, and settle below my ear. “Fuck your father, Miss Murphy,” he drawls. My eyes squeeze shut. “Because this isn’t about your father anymore, it’s about you.You.You’re mine. My sweet, rare, China Doll. I collect things, and you’re one of my things now. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to let you go. When I’mdonewith you.”
His whiskey breath against my ear lobe. His warm, strong hand stroking the base of my neck. It sends an electric shock through my nervous system, and I have to stifle the moan. Stifle the feeling of lust building up inside of me.
Godfuckingdammit, Devil. Have me. Have your wicked way with me and let me go.
