But then again…I could have asked my questions over the phone: Why did I call you last night? And what possessed you to think marrying my drunk ass would be a good idea?
But I have a feeling Liam wouldn’t have answered them via our cellphones anyway. I can tell that whatever my agenda is for this dinner, he has his own that I’ll need to be careful of.
And, hell, as Liam himself pointed out to me, I do have to eat.
I open my eyes and stare at my fingers. They’ve shriveled up and look like prunes. If I don’t fucking get out of the shower soon, I might dissolve.
With the towel wrapped around me, I go into my bedroom and stare at my wardrobe. I love my clothes and I came prepared
Prepared, that is, for everything but a date with my husband.
Date—what the fuck am I saying? It’s not a fucking date. It’s a…
I stop the thoughts. I shouldn’t go there. No point overanalyzing what tonight is about.
I’m going out to dinner to get more answers. End of story, finito.
Anyway.
This dress looks cute on me, maybe I should…
Chapter 25
Becky
5:58 PM WEDNESDAY
The closer I get to the restaurant, the slower my feet move forward. It’s as if my kitten heels are filled with lead and dragging them around Las Vegas is a really shitty new workout craze.
What the fuck am I doing? Why did I agree to have dinner with Liam?
And why on earth did I wear this little black dress of mine?
So far three men have tried to chat me up―one in the elevator and the other two waiting with me on the lift.
If only I had my engagement ring on me, this might not be happening. My fucking engagement ring is still missing.
Sighing, I realize that in all my detective work so far, I haven’t unearthed anything about the possible location of my million-dollar wedding ring.
Sammi suggested I check with lost and found here in the Royale, but I doubt anyone would hand over their ticket to a brand-new sports car. Mysti May told me to contact the cops and report it as stolen, but that seems a bit drastic since I have no fucking idea what actually happened to the ring.
So far I’ve done nothing about locating its whereabouts. Deep down I hope it might just turn up on my bedside table or in my toiletries bag. I know the chances of this are fucking remote, but I need to at least keep some hope alive.
I sigh and force myself to enter the restaurant.
A smiling waiter approaches me instantly.
“You must be Becky,” he says, sweeping his arm out as if to guide me to Liam.
It’s not a difficult path. The place is empty except for my so-called husband, sitting at a table and backlit by the sunset.
Liam stands, cutting the distance between us before I can even move. He looks just as handsome as he did this morning—better, even. His blonde hair has been slicked back messily, and he’s wearing a suit, sans tie.
He kisses me on the lips before I can stop him and rests his hand possessively on my ass cheek. It wasn’t a little peck on the mouth, either; it’s a full-on kiss, tongue and all.
The waiter smiles knowingly and mumbles an apology, slinking away.
Fuck. Now there aren’t even any witnesses.
At our table, Liam pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit down before pushing me in a little toward the table. Then he takes the starched white serviette and drapes it over my lap. It’s an opportunity for the tips of his fingers to brush across my thighs.
Millions of nerve cells are rallied into action. Unsurprisingly, my body aches for more of his touch. I’m already fucking wet for him, and he hasn’t said a word to me yet.
He seems like a fucking gentleman, doesn’t he? So far I’ve not seen the asshole side of him that Dan described. But I guess siblings always see each other with different eyes.
As an only child, I could only ever pine for a sister or a brother. In fact, as far as I was concerned, a brother or sister would have made my life a blast.
I guess it’s part of human nature to pine for what we don’t have. People with long hair want short hair, those with blonde hair wish they were brunette, women with large tits wish they were smaller, and women with small tits wish theirs were bigger, and on the list goes on.
“Wine?”
Liam’s voice rouses me out of my thoughts.
I nod.
“I’ve ordered a Pinot Gris.” He lifts the bottle out of the ice bucket and pours first me a glass and then himself.
When he puts it back, I read the tasting note on the back: This wine has grapes hand-picked from our hundred-year-old vines. The prime flavors of this wine are lime, lemon and pear with a hint of nectarine.
I pick up my glass and smell the near colorless liquid.
It just smells like wine to me.
“Prost,” says Liam, tilting his glass against mine with a clink.
“Can we just get to business?” I ask anxiously. I can’t be around this man any longer than I absolutely have to be.
Liam laughs. It’s a hearty laugh, one that comes deep from within the belly.
“Wet for me already, darling? I thought you’d at least be able to hold off until desert.” He smirks, sipping his wine. “My wife is an insatiable woman—aren’t you, darling?”
“You know what I mean.” My face is burning, flushed hot pink at his words.
“I’ve taken the liberty and ordered some salmon for us.”
I nod. It doesn’t matter, I still don’t feel fucking hungry.
“What happened last night?” I ask and look him directly in the eye. “Please. Let’s just get this over with.”
Liam feigns shock. He puts his left hand to his temple in a dramatic fashion and pouts at me with his smoldering bedroom eyes.
“You cut me deep, love. I’m hurt that you can’t remember. Last night you told me it was the best night of your life.”
There’s something about this man. He makes my throat dry and my panties soaked all at once. I won’t deny it.
But this isn’t the time for flirtation. I need answers to my fucking questions.
The waiter arrives with our food.
It looks and smells fucking fantastic. I pick up my fork but don’t actually eat anything. Absentmindedly, I push the salmon around my plate.
“You know I can’t remember what happened,” I start and pick up my wine. I take another sip of the citrus-y drink. Even if I’m not a wine expert, I have a thorough enough history with the beverage to know that it’s nice. “I was drunk or something. I don’t know. Can we skip the flirtation and get to the part where you fill me in?”
“Fill you in, hmm?” Liam says, picking up his napkin from his lap and setting it on the table. “Well, darling, if you insist—”
I roll my eyes. “Stop. Seriously. W-we can’t, Liam. Whatever happened last night, it’s over now. I just want to figure out where it all went wrong.”
“Actually, you know what I think we should be talking about? I think we need to work out where we’re going to live. I normally stay here at the Royale when I’m in the city, and I have a lovely penthouse in London that I think you’d love—or should we settle down into a quiet country estate? Something more suitable for the children—we’ll make positively gorgeous children.”
“You’re kidding.” I stare at him open mouthed.
Dan never wanted to discuss where we were going to live. He just expected me to move in with him.
Liam shakes his head. “These are serious decisions to make, love. We need to discuss them and then have a vote. After all, it’s a democratic marriage, not a dictatorship…unless we’re in bed together, I think. Then, you’ll be a good girl and do as I say.”
I laugh, despite the seriousness of the whole fucking situation.
“A house.” I shake my head. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”
The words are out before
I can stop them. For a microsecond, I’m getting swept away in the moment. He’s too fucking charming, I can’t help myself.
“Something a bit out of the city, I think. You’re a Valley girl, aren’t you, love? We’ll want to stay close to your work—although, I think you mentioned you were a party planner. There are plenty of opportunities for that here in Vegas if you wanted to move.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through pictures of massive mansions. “Ought to find something with a pool. I think we’ll be entertaining a fair bit, don’t you?”
I shake my head.
No. No. No.
I can’t let myself get caught up in the trap of Liam’s charms.
“Liam, look. I need to know what happened last night,” I start again. “What major catastrophe occurred for me to call you? I know something must have happened―otherwise I wouldn’t have called you…and then you wouldn’t be entertaining this silly…I don’t know. Delusion of us having a life together.”
I try not to look at the luxurious houses Liam is scrolling through―even though, fuck me, I fucking want to.
“Delusion? I think it’s more of a dream, really. You’ll need a walk-in closet, I presume?” Liam laughs dismissively at his own question. “Of course you will. Pretty thing like you will need a whole fresh wardrobe, come to think.”
I sigh.
Part of me wants to take him up on it. All of it.
But I have to let the promise of new clothes slip away.
“Something bad must have happened. Dan gave me your number for emergencies only—so why else would I have called you?”
Liam puts the phone down and looks at me.
“It’s fate, princess,” he levels with me. “Maybe one of your little birdies told you that you would have more fun with your Prince Charming’s evil stepbrother, hmm?”
“I was drunk, Liam,” I say, defending myself. “Something bad happened, I got drunk, I called you, and you took advantage of me. Tell me that’s not the truth.”
He folds his arms in front of his body, and his eyes are staring right into my soul. It’s an unnerving look, and eventually, I can’t stand the heat and break away.
“Are you sure you were drunk?” he asks me. “All of the night?”
Something in his tone of voice unsettles me. What is he suggesting? Is he hinting that I got involved with him while I was still fucking sober?
Even I have to admit, it would be tempting, considering how fucking gorgeous he looks right now.
My pussy definitely votes yes.
But my pussy doesn’t get a vote.
Argh. This is driving me fucking insane. What the fuck had happened with Dan and why won’t anyone tell me? Or is it that they can’t tell me?
“I would have been drunk,” I reply defensively. “I would never cheat on Dan.”
“No,” Liam agrees, “you wouldn’t have—and you didn’t.”
For the first time in days, I feel a sense of relief.
Liam leans back in his chair, and there’s something in his eyes I can’t explain. What I do see is that his carefree easygoing manner has disappeared. He seems more serious, like something is bothering him
“Dan, on the other hand…” Liam says, tailing off suggestively.
I blink, dumbfounded.
“Excuse you?”
Liam’s fingers curl around mine. They’re warm. Reassuring. Stronger than my grip could break…even if I wanted to.
“You want the truth, love, then I’ll give it to you. Let me tell you what really happened last night.”
Chapter 26
Liam
2:17 AM THURSDAY
I fucking love my wife.
“Selfie,” Becky announces authoritatively as we stop in the entryway to the Royale’s bar. I’m pretty sure she puts her thumb over the camera before she snaps the photo, but I can’t complain…
Especially since Becky’s selfie pose of choice involves flashing her panties and licking the side of my face.
We trundle through the door, and I’m ready to pry Becky’s friends away from her with free nightcaps before I take my bride to bed.
Percy is already so drunk, I’m not sure how she’s still walking. Mysti May is surrounded by these barely covered show girls. And Sammi…well, Sammi has acquired a particularly large ice box at some point in the night, which she wheels behind her, happy as a clam.
The thing is the size of a small shark, and she’s been terribly protective of it. Won’t say what she’s stashed within—but knowing these girls, I’m sure it’s trouble.
I doubt I have ever seen a stranger fucking wedding party than this.
Becky is grinning from ear to ear, and it warms my heart to see her smile again.
Before we walk out the door she gives me a little kiss on the tip of my nose.
“I have never been happier,” she whispers in my ear. “This is the best night of my life.”
“The first of many best nights, I hope,” I whisper back.
When I kiss her, I kiss her deep.
“Drinks are on the house,” I tell them as we reach the bar. I wave over one of my bartenders, grinning like the smug bastard that I am.
Of course they’re free. I own the house.
“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Becky pulls something out of her handbag. “Let Dan the Man pay.” And with those words she puts down his black credit card, grumbling, “Stupid fucker.”
Before I can move into damage control, my mobile rings.
I can guess who it is without looking—speak of the devil.
I step off for a moment to take the call.
“Dan,” I greet my idiot step-brother through the phone. “How nice to hear from you. How’s your ass doing?”
“Fuck you, Liam.”
“Ah, cheers, Dan, but no thanks. Not my kink, really.”
“You little shit—”
Instantly my blood boils, and I feel my blood pressure increase to about two hundred over one fifty. All of a sudden, it feels like we’re two kids again—like Dan’s father has just married my mother and begun the process of ruining both our lives.
“What the fuck do you want, Dan?” I bark into the phone and make sure I’m well away from the girls.
They are busy ordering drinks and won’t notice my absence. I don’t want Becky to overhear this conversation.
“Where the fuck is Becky? She’s not answering her phone. I know you’re with her, you fucking prick. I want to talk to my wife, Liam.”
“She’s not your wife.” Hearing him call Becky that makes me want to curl my fingers into a fist and take his teeth out with it. “And what do you care? You had your chance earlier, Dan. You blew it.”
The more I think about all of this, the fucking angrier I get. That fucker is lucky he’s not standing next to me because I swear I’d punch his fucking lights out.
“She’s mine, asshole,” he growls. “Give Becky the phone.”
I laugh.
“Oh, Dan. You’re truly hilarious. She was never yours to begin with. Don’t you have someone else to harass now that she’s gone? An errant prostitute, perhaps?”
“She’s still my fiancée.”
The gall of this man is fucking incomprehensible. Where the fuck does he get off?
“I think we both know better than that. She’s not your fiancé anymore.”
“I have every right to know where Becky is. You tell me now before it gets really ugly.” Dan’s voice is rising in pitch, as if he’s about to lose control. “Stop fucking around, Liam.”
Idle threats from Dan the Man. Now things are getting really interesting.
“Could say the same to you, Dan. You fucked up, and you need to take responsibility for it. This isn’t Daddy’s lap anymore—this is the real world, and Becky is not one of your toys. She deserves better than you—and she’s going to get it.”
I press the end button. No need to keep the fucking conversation going.
When I return to the girls, they seem in rather high spirits. Or, rather…high on spirits.
The smell of tequila is thick in the air. Amazing how much alcohol they can consume in a relative short amount of time.
“There you are.” Becky drapes her arms around me and starts kissing me. She rubs her scantily-clad body up and down mine. “I’ve missed you sooooo much.”
I smile and kiss her on the lips. “How much have you had to drink, my love?”
She pouts. “Hardly anything at aaaaaaaall.”
She puts one hand to her temple as if she’s thinking. Her lips curl up, and her I see her eyes sparkle at the same time. “Like, two shots, maybeeee. Max.” She grins at me. “The first one, then the last one, and you don’t ever have to count the ones in between.”
As she sways a little, I wrap my arm around her. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Clearly, she’s not used to a lot of alcohol, which doesn’t surprise me.
From the sound of things, she’s been living a tragic half-life beneath Dan’s big, ugly thumb.
“Why don’t you use your lovely cock to show me a good time,” she continues to slur, running the tip of her finger along my chest.
Of course, that simple action of hers is filled with so much promise my dick instantly jumps for joy in my pants.
“Come on,” she purrs and nestles into me, cat-like. “I want you to fuck me right here and right now.”
I grin.
My fingers play with her fiery red hair.
“Don’t you want to celebrate your wedding with your bridesmaids before we go and enjoy ourselves?” I ask.
Now she pouts and barely gives the girls a second a glance.
“They’re busy.”
To be fair, she’s right. Mysti May is licking the tonsils of three different showgirls, Percy has engaged in an arm wrestling match with the bartender while she pours a bottle of tequila down her throat, and Sammi is draped across the ice box, cooing sweet nothings to whatever she has trapped inside.
Becky’s eyes meet mine again.
“Nooooo. I want you to fuck me nooow.”
I watch her head tilt a little to the right like she does when she wants something badly. Over the last few hours, I’ve noticed a few of her little quirks, and I love each and every one of them.
The Other Brother_A Billionaire Hangover Romance Page 15