Beautifully Cruel (Beautifully Cruel #1)(51)

When the elevator doors slide open, they reveal four hulking bodyguards in black suits standing in a row, staring at me. Judging by their expressions, they knew I was coming.

Behind them is the parking garage where Liam and I came in earlier.

I grit my teeth and jab at another button on the console, this one labeled with the number one. When the elevator doors open on the first floor, I burst out, only to find myself in an empty space.

No people, no furniture, not so much as a houseplant interrupts the nothingness. It’s just unfinished, open space, thousands of square feet of it. All around, floor to ceiling windows showcase the city at night beyond, but inside it’s totally empty.

There isn’t even carpet on the bare cement floor.

Unnerved, I get back into the elevator and hit the button for floor number two.

It’s the same. Empty. Echoing. Not a single sign of life.

By the time I’ve visited the fifth floor, I know what I’ll find on the sixth, seventh, and eighth. And every floor after that.

Except for the penthouse, the entire building is empty.

Liam owns a fucking skyscraper all to himself.

Glaring at the console forested with useless buttons, I mutter, “Smug. Arrogant. Infuriating. Pretentious—”

“Easy, now.” A voice crackles through a speaker in the ceiling. “Pretentious is going a little far, don’t you think?”

I’m so mad I resort to ridiculousness to express my fury and stamp my foot. Looking up at the ceiling, I shout, “You’re spying on me, too? Kidnapping wasn’t good enough, now you have to spy?”

Liam’s voice warms. “I love looking at you, lass. Can’t help myself.”

I dig my hands into my hair, close my eyes, and huff out an angry breath between clenched teeth.

“If you need a nice massage to release some of that stress, I’ll be happy to give you one.”

“And I’ll be happy to punch you in the nose!”

“So violent.” He chuckles. “I knew we were a good match.”

Beyond frustrated, I kick the elevator doors. The only thing it accomplishes is bruising my big toe. I jump back, hopping and cursing, and flip off the ceiling.

Wherever the camera is hidden, I know Liam sees the gesture, because he chuckles again.

“You have to go to sleep at some point, you cocky bastard! And when you do, I’ll be there, hovering over your sleeping body with an icepick!”

Ignoring my threat, he muses, “Cocky? I don’t know about that. Self-confident is more apropos, don’t you think?”

“I’m going to light this building on fire and burn it to the ground is what I think,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing my finger on a button marked P1 on the console. It’s one button below the L, so maybe there’s a way out there.

Liam is still talking through the speaker. “And would an icepick really do the trick? I think you’d need excellent aim, which you don’t seem to have.” He pauses. “Or make up it with sheer volume.”

I snap, “That’s exactly my plan, Mr. Black. All those big muscles of yours are soon going to be more holey than swiss cheese.”

I ride for a moment in silence, the elevator creaking, until Liam says, “All those big muscles? Are you saying you’re impressed with my body?”

I give up. I collapse against the elevator door and gently bang my forehead on it.

“Because I have to admit, I love it when you give me compliments. Like when you told me in the hospital that I was beautiful. Do you remember that?” He sighs wistfully. “It was really touching. No one’s ever said anything remotely like it to me before.”

Without removing my forehead from the metal door, I say flatly, “I was on drugs.”

Through the speaker, his voice comes stroking soft. “I loved it. I want you to tell me that again. When I’m inside you.”

“Ha! As if! You’ll never be inside me again, pal!”

His voice drops an octave. “You want to bet?”

I start to shake with rage. My hands clenched to fists, I pull away from the door and direct my burning stare at it. If the camera is above my head, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my face.

“I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Have it your way.”

Another crackle and he’s gone.

The doors slide open on P1, but I’m right back where I was before, on the level where Liam and I first came in, the four goons staring back at me with blank expressions.

Unfuckingbelievable.

I shove my hand against the door to keep it from closing. “Where’s Declan?”

The goons look at each other. No one speaks. One of them shrugs, like, huh?

“I know you speak English. Call Declan and tell him to get his ass over here right now.”

Three of the goons look at the fourth one, who must be in charge. He’s frowning down his nose at me, but I’m so far beyond scared it must show on my face. He purses his lips, removes a cell phone from a pocket inside his suit, and hits a button. He lifts it to his ear, listens for a moment, then says something in Gaelic to whoever answered on the other end.

He nods and clicks off.

Then he slips the phone back into his pocket and stares at me.

“So? Is he coming?”

He doesn’t bat an eyelash. It’s like talking to a brick wall.