Page 50 of The Captive
"You think because of what happened two years ago, because of what Beatrice forced us to take in that barn, that you know me?" He laughed, a harsh sound. "You don't know anything, Aoife O'Malley."
"I know you still think about that night we had," I challenged. "I know when Beatrice made you fuck her, you were looking at me."
His pupils dilated, jaw clenching as he placed one hand on the wall beside my head. "Is that what you think? That I need to be forced?"
"I think," I whispered, moving closer until our bodies nearly touched, "that you're afraid of what happens when you lose control. Especially with me."
We stood there, breath mingling, the air charged with electricity. His eyes dropped to my lips, body swaying imperceptibly closer. I tilted my face up, anticipation coiling tight in my belly.
Then, abruptly, he pushed away from the wall. "Get ready to move out. One hour."
He strode from the room, leaving me breathless and frustrated.
The airfield operation proved fruitless. Beatrice had vanished already—departed on a private jet twelve hours earlier,destination unknown. Alexander's rage was a tangible thing, cold and contained but terrifying in its intensity.
It was nearly midnight when we returned to Ashford Estate. The house was dark and silent as we entered through the rear door.
"Get some rest," Alexander said, not meeting my eyes. "We'll regroup in the morning."
"Alexander." I caught his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath my fingers. "This isn't over."
"I'm aware." His voice was clipped. "Beatrice is still out there."
"That's not what I meant."
His jaw tightened. "Don't push this, Aoife. Not tonight."
"When, then?" I stepped closer, my body mere inches from his. "After Beatrice is found? After we return to being enemies? After you hand me over to Ronan as a peace offering?"
In his eyes this time I caught anger, frustration, hunger. "What do you want from me?"
The question hung between us, loaded with more meaning than he could know. What did I want? Revenge? Justice? Or did I want this impossible thing growing between us—this connection that made me forget why I'd come here in the first place? Every smile he gave me, every gentle touch felt like another nail in my father's coffin. I had problems with the man he was, but that didn’t mean this was right. I was supposed to carry on his legacy. Instead, here I was, melting under Alexander Moore's gaze like some lovesick fool.
"The truth about why you keep running from this," I finally answered.
His laugh was harsh. "You think this is running? I've been keeping you alive, Aoife. Protecting you even though every instinct I have says you're a threat."
"I don't need your protection."
"Clearly," he bit out, gesturing to my bandaged wrists. "You had everything under control in that barn."
Rage surged through me. "Fuck you, Alexander. You were right there with me, remember? Just as helpless, just as used. And let’s not forget, we were in there because of you. Beatrice is crazy enough to be obsessed with you because of something you did. This all falls squarely on your doorstep," I spat.
His control snapped. In one fluid motion, he backed me against the wall, one hand tangling in my hair, the other gripping my hip with bruising force. "I am never helpless," he growled, his face inches from mine. “And I will not apologise for another person’s obsessions. Only mine…”
He trailed his hand up my side. The heat of his body pressed against mine, his scent overwhelming my senses. My heart hammered against my ribs as his grip tightened.
"Prove it," I whispered, the challenge unmistakable.
For an endless moment, he remained frozen, his eyes burning into mine. Then, with a muttered curse, he released me and stepped back.
"This isn't happening," he said, voice rough. "Not like this."
Before I could respond, he turned and disappeared up the staircase.
Fuck you, Alexander.
I stood in the darkened foyer, fury and desire warring within me. The intensity of my reaction to him was disturbing—a weakness I couldn't afford. Yet I couldn't deny the electric current between us, the way my body responded to him whenever he was close.
