Mafia King (Young Irish Rebels #2) - Vi Carter Page 0,18

me to.

“Fuck you.”

I try to move past the anger I feel that she was Jack’s. Now I want to make her mine.

“Say something nice to me, and I’ll let you go.” I’m trying to take the high road here. I’m not one to fight over any woman, but this time it’s very personal.

She draws in a shaky breath, and her gaze diverts back to the wall. “Fuck you.” Her two words don’t hold the same level of conviction they had earlier, but it’s enough to make me want to push her down the fucking stairs. I think I show a tremendous amount of restraint and drag her away from the wall until she’s facing me. My arms keep her locked in place, and she’s pressed against me so she can’t kick out.

The flickering heartbeat in her neck makes me pause. My gaze trails across her face to her plump lips—her small pink tongue flicks out, and she licks her lips. My cock twitches.

“Final chance.” I can’t look away from her lips.

She juts out her chin, and my gaze skips to her eyes. I can see the answer there. She isn’t giving in and fuck me if I don’t admire that. But she needs to learn some fucking manners. I start down the stairs, and she doesn’t fight me. She isn’t so stupid to cause both of us to fall.

There’s nothing down here but a washer and dryer. The moment we touch the ground, she gets away from me and tightens her arms around her waist.

I want to offer her one more chance. But I’ve given her enough. She doesn’t stop me as I march back up the stairs and lock the door behind me. I leave the lights on. I’m a cruel bastard, but not that cruel.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EMMA

My heart won’t slow down long after he leaves me. My body keeps reacting to him in the worst way possible. I don’t want to keep thinking about his large body pressed against mine or how that made everything in me quiver.

I force my mind away from him, and I think of my horse, Lady. I miss her. I miss the simplicity of my life. I miss my room. I miss my dreams of freedom.

This isn’t freedom.

I move around the basement. It’s fairly empty, but I know what I am looking for.

It’s not about freedom. It’s to show him that he can’t keep locking me up. I’m not just going to sit here and take it. I wasn’t some docile female.

As I scan the room, I look up and see what I’m looking for. The washing machine and dryer stand free, and I use the door of the washing machine as a step. I climb on top of it. Pushing myself up onto the tip of my toes, I tug on the insulation that’s wrapped around the pipes. On top of the yellow itchy stuff, I slowly strip back the aluminum foil. It takes time, and some of the yellow insulation falls onto my face. I have to stop several times and brush all the bits away, but when they do, I smile at my pile of aluminum that I have collected successfully.

A small cabinet is filled with full bottles of cleaning products. I push aside the bleach and take out a bottle of drain cleaner that’s tucked away at the back. I scan the rest of the cleaning products but know the drain cleaner is perfect for what I need.

I look around for a clear plastic bottle, but I don’t find one. I also needed some water, and there isn’t a sink down here either.

Great.

Taking my drain cleaner and aluminum, I stuff them inside the tumble dryer and close the door. I make my way up the stairs. The door at the top, of course, is locked. But I had to try it, anyway.

I want to bang on it and demand he let me out, but that didn’t work before. I place my ear against the door, and I’m sure I can hear someone in the kitchen.

My heart thump thumps as I knock softly on the door. “Can I have a drink of water?” I’m tempted to say please, but if I’m too nice, he’ll know something is up.

“I haven’t had any in nearly two days,” I shout at the door when I get no response.

“It’s just a bottle of water.” I continue.

I hear movement.

“Say please.” His voice startles me. He’s right on the other side of the door, and now all