I stared out at the surrounding nature, and words bubbled to my lips. “How did you start all this?” While he clearly had some business acumen, guaranteed he hadn’t launched with only a few pennies and a dream. The Ashmores were an old money family, not new to wealth by any means. “The Spires, I mean. What drew you to owning a casino?”
He let out a slow hiss of a sigh. “You never stop with the questions, do you?”
“Terminally curious.” I busied myself with taking another bite, expecting silence to follow. Not like anyone had bothered giving me straight answers so far.
“I wanted to branch off from my father’s business,” Cillian said. “Make a name for myself.” His tone hardened, his gaze far off, as if he were lost in memory. What had happened with his father’s business?
“And you thought casino?” I asked. “If you really wanted to stick it to him, you should’ve become the ultimate disappointment and opened up an obscure bookstore or café.”
“Is that a secret fantasy of yours?” he asked.
“Obviously,” I responded, taking another sip of coffee. “Although I’d also be happy to work the rest of my days at the library.” The reality that I no longer had my job slammed me in the gut, but I forced myself to stay in the present rather than give in to the crushing wave of anxiety that loomed. “At least if I can find another position once I’m free.”
Cillian glanced away, the air between us tensing. “You’ll still have the applicable work experience.”
“Right, with an awkward ten-year gap as a personal assistant to the CEO of a major casino. Because that makes so much sense to employers.”
“Makes more sense than a ten-year stint in the Pits,” Cillian said, a hint of a growl in his tone. The hint of his fangs poking out should’ve terrified me, but irritation flowed through me again,clashing with any sense of warning. “And the burden belonged to your father.”
I opened my mouth but then shut it again. Did I want to know what he’d done?
Cillian cocked his head to the side. “You stepped in for him, but are you aware of why he was about to face that sentence?”
No, no, no. I didn’t want the answer. Because if Cillian said something I didn’t like, I couldn’t speak to my father face to face and ask for an explanation. And no amount of video calls, texts, or emails could replicate having that conversation in person.
“I’ll wait on the answer until I can ask him myself,” I responded, my tone firm. “He’s been my only support for years, the only parent I’ve had. Of course I’d step in for him.”
Cillian shook his head. “Just because he raised you doesn’t mean he deserves loyalty.”
“Speaking from experience?” I shot back, unable to help the sharpness that slipped in.
“Yes,” he rumbled. His golden eyes locked onto me again, and I forgot how to breathe. “I would never have taken my father’s place. I didn’t owe him a damn thing.”
My stomach twisted at the heat in his voice, at the deadly tone. A story dwelled there, one I was desperate to learn about, but I had the feeling he’d snap to silence or redirect if I asked.
“So starting a casino was your chosen form of rebellion?” I asked, guiding the redirection myself. “Couldn’t just dye your hair and get some piercings like the rest of us? Ah, to be born wealthy.”
Cillian shook his head, his jaw clenching. A storm brewed between us, and my shoulders tensed. I must’ve pushed him too far, but I couldn’t take the words back.
All of a sudden the tension dissipated, and he lifted a brow. “And what piercings did you get?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Once those words escaped me, I wanted to bite them back. His eyes widened, and his gaze turned probing, penetrating. I’d gone through the whole rebellious phase, for as buttoned-up as I dressed now, but none of my piercings were easily viewed. In fact, they were in a place only a select few saw.
“Well, now you’ve struck my curiosity.” His voice turned low and rough, like liquid sin, and I hated the way my skin prickled with awareness. His eyes roved over me, as if he were trying to assess what lay beneath my clothes. I shifted in my seat and sucked in a sharp breath, my body humming with awareness.
A buzz sounded from his pocket, and he plucked his phone out to glance at it. His expression darkened. “Business matters. We’ll have to cut this lunch short. Let’s head back upstairs.”
I didn’t respond, as there wasn’t much to say. I could stay out here forever, but it was clear that wouldn’t be allowed without supervision. As much as the melody of the birdsong and the breeze had lulled me into a false sense of security, the reminder slammed in a little harsher after the respite.
No matter how much I wanted to be free, I wasn’t.
And I wouldn’t be for a long, long while.
Chapter 9
The weeks passed far quicker once I’d started getting to utilize my skills, and soon months had gone by. Note-taking was easy, and I absorbed a lot of the information about the casinos in the city that I wouldn’t normally be privy to. And Cillian remained as hot and cold as ever—brief moments of normal conversation one moment and then rude dismissiveness the next. My head spun from all his mood shifts, as fickle as spring weather.
“This meeting is concluded,” he announced to the table of different humans and monsters, this time vendors he worked with for the Spires. As per usual, Cillian waited for me to get up first before rising himself, and I wasn’t sure if it was to remind me he was my jailer or because he had another meeting involving me. We’d been eating lunch afterward some of the time, while other days he’d bustle out and leave me to my own devices. Which I wouldn’t mind, except that Amelia would inevitably show up to fetch me and escort me back upstairs.
