Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“No! Let me—”
He carries me further down the hallway. A bouncer takes one look at Cavin and steps aside without a word.
“Where’s my sister?” I demand, panic rising in my throat. “Bridget? I need to—”
“Don’t worry about your sister. My cousin Declan is watching her,” he says. “You won’t be leaving without her, so stop looking like a fuckin’ trapped animal.”
He pushes open a door with his shoulder.
I’m going to be married to this man. We are going to share a bed. And right now, I’m too afraid to be alone with him. He has ripped through every one of my boundaries and fears like they were paper.
Thank god the room’s private and secluded. There’s a couch, a bar in the corner, and soft music playing. It’s almost… almost elegant. But there’s something else too. Things I don’t quite understand. Equipment that makes my stomach flip.
I’ve never seen anything like this.
There are… chains and things hanging from the ceiling. That looks like—oh my god. There’s a bench and something with leather straps. And there’s something that looks like—it can’t be described as anything but a whip.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
He sets me down, and I immediately step back, my eyes catching on something low to the ground. It’s padded with black leather, but it doesn’t look like the type of bench you… sit on. There are restraints attached to it. And the angle is all wrong. Too horizontal. Too… purposeful.
A cabinet stands open in the corner, and I catch a glimpse of what’s inside before I can look away.
Oh god. I don’t… I don’t even know the names of half these things. There’s something that looks like a flogger with leather tails. Something that looks like a riding crop.
My heart hammers.
On a side table, there’s a neat line of items that look almost surgical. Blindfolds. Silk scarves. Something metal that glints—handcuffs? Small glass bottles I can’t identify.
And then there’s the couch that suddenly makes sense. It’s positioned to face something wooden that looks… it looks like some kind of a cross.
This isn’t just a private room. It’s a playground.
I wonder if the walls are soundproof. I wonder if the way the door sealed when we came in means it’s locked to outside intruders, and no one would hear anything that happened in here.
And then there’s the mirror. A massive mirror along one wall with a gilded frame reflects everything back—shows me standing here, wide-eyed and frozen.
Is this what The Craic really is? This is why he didn’t want me to come here.
My heart sinks to my toes.
This is where Cavin comes. Where he’s comfortable. Where women bow to him.
I remember what I saw online. I remember the way women fawned all over him.
I may be a virgin, but he’s definitely not. I don’t even want to think about what he’s done in here.
Is that jealousy I’m feeling?
No. I’m not… I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of a man I hate? I don’t even like the man. He can have all the fucking women he wants for all I care.
I swallow hard.
There’s a knock at the door. Cavin opens it, and Declan appears with Bridget at his side. He only opens the door a crack so she can’t see the details in here. And my god, if he opens it even further…
“You alright, Bridget?” I ask immediately.
“I’m fine.” Bridget’s eyes are wide. “What’s—”
“She’s grand,” Cavin says. Then he tells Declan, “Take her to the lounge. Get her whatever she wants. We’ll be done here shortly. Take very good care of her, Declan. Don’t let her out of your damn sight.”
Declan nods. Before I can protest, he adds, “Wait for us in the club.” Then he turns to my sister. “Bridget.” Not a question, a command wrapped in her name.
“Yes?” Her voice goes small, childlike. Even I gulp.
“Do you have a purple band on your arm as well?”
She swallows, then nods.
“Take it off her.” The words come out cold and commanding—not to Bridget, but to Declan—an order that doesn’t allow for debate.
Declan curses under his breath, and the door clicks shut behind them.
Now it’s just us.
Why do I like the fact that Cavin is looking out for my little sister?
He isn’t protecting her, he’s just…
He turns to me, and the room shifts again. I lose all train of thought. I never lose my train of thought.
This time, the downshift feels heavier. Weighted.
“Do you have any idea what you did tonight?” His voice is controlled, but I can hear the anger simmering underneath. “You came into my club. My territory. Without permission. Without telling me. Without reading my texts. Without even understanding what you were walking into, and you told everyone that my fiancée was free to take.”
Well. That does sound sort of terrible when he puts it that way…
He takes a step closer, then another, until there’s hardly a fragment of space between us.