“Ward,” Liam mumbled acknowledging his most putrid skeleton.
“Got it in one, although I should kick your sorry ass for making me dig all that shit up on my own. A little honesty woulda’ helped, y’know. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”
“Was in the past. Over and done with . . .”
“Liam,” Roman barked. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Whoa. First Marjorie and now Roman spitting his given name at him. The walls were coming down and rather than be annoyed, Liam found a sliver of comfort. These two people were more than employees. They obviously cared about him as he did them.
“I can do the math, too. You hired me before all that went down. At the time, I figured you were smartening up—realizing that a man in your position needed someone to run interference. Maybe you should have let me in on what was really happening. Suppose Ward found his balls and tried to come back at you?”
“He didn’t know until it was over.”
“Still should have told me. There’s stuff on the floor that you know nothing about.”
“Okay. Enough!” Liam was ready to hit something in frustration. Secrets about Rhiann? And now something, anything, about Adam Ward?
“Out with it, Bishop,” he snarled. “If you have something on me or Rhiann, I want to know.”
“You have enough on your plate as it is and where Miss Wilde’s secrets are concerned, they’re on a need to know basis. But since you won’t let this rest, I’ll drop a little bombshell about Adam Ward and then step back so I’m out of the line of fire.”
“Waiting . . .”
“Just remember, Boss. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Pretty sure you’re safe,” Liam grumbled.
“You aren’t Adam Ward’s only fuck-fruit.”
“Excuse me?” Shit. Was that his head about to explode?
“You have a half-sister.”
HIS KISSES WERE FIERCE AND hungry, taking her places she could barely wrap her mind around. Even then, before the money, before the power—he had an omniscient presence that dazzled her. He knew how not to just arouse her senses but other things, too. Like how to bend her to his will; reducing her to a trembling, moaning, needy creature dependent on his touch to live.
How many nights had she lain awake, crying into the darkness for him? The slow burn of desire he’d awakened in her responded to his touch and his touch alone. It was . . . her downfall. She didn’t want to need him as she did. Didn’t want to long so desperately for his possession. But she did.
Was he her other half? The sort she often read about and even wrote about in her stories? Their coupling had been magical to a much younger and even more naïve Rhiann. Primitive at times and always intoxicating, her mind unleashed a torrent of memories that wrapped around her as she slept.
The way he touched her made Rhiann crave more. His mouth, gentle at first, became fiercely possessive. Hot panting breaths on her naked skin, her nipples peaking almost painfully—begging for his attention. And oh, my god—the way his tongue licked the tight little buds until she cried out for more. The sound of his satisfied grunt right before he’d draw the sensitive nub into his mouth for a suckling that sent arrows of pleasure straight to her core. He always knew what she needed and never failed to give her more.
Her subconscious had a supporting role in this dream—stepping from the shadows to remind her that she’d been judging him harshly. Hadn’t she been the one to beg for more? Liam’s insistence that they wait until all the ghosts from the past had been once and for all laid to rest along with her fears and confusion for the events in the present meant something, right? If all he’d been after was sex . . .
Rhiann’s eyes slowly opened to a room illuminated by moonlight. Liam Ashforth was worth . . . well, he was worth more than she could comprehend. Women would fall all over themselves for a chance to be with him. Wealth, power, social standing—powerful aphrodisiacs in today’s world, but she’d had a taste of the man within the tycoon, and though she tried to pretend otherwise, the love she had for the scowling man in the three-piece suit remained as strong and hypnotic as ever.
Shuffling from her room after washing the sleep from her face, she wondered where Roman was and what he was up to. After hearing the way he and Liam interacted, she was relieved that the serious ex-Marine showed an obvious affection for his boss. Something that went beyond their formal arrangement. Knowing Liam had an honest-to-god friend in his corner eased her mind.
The sound of explosions and cursing split the air and she smiled. He was in the theater room watching some bang bang shoot ’em up guy film. Typical.
Padding softly down the stairs, she paused outside the room to gather her thoughts. Roman had some explaining to do, and she planned to make him stay put until she got some freakin’ answers.
As she swung into the room, Roman looked up and gave her an assessing once-over. Muting the movie, he threw the remote aside and smirked.
“Feel better now that you’ve slept it off, Princess?”
Leaning on the door jam, she shrugged and scraped her foot back and forth. “Yes and no,” she told him.
She was close enough that when he suddenly reached out and grabbed her arm, Rhiann propelled forward as he guided her to the plush recliner next to him.
His deep, male voice held absolutely no mockery or attempt to deceive when he said, “You have questions. I have answers. Fire away but you should know first that nothing is easy or neat in this situation so I’d appreciate you reserving your reactions till we’ve reached the end, okay?”
Her eyebrow arched in silent dismay. Shit. No more beating around the bush. He was right. Time for answers. Now where to begin?
The next day unfolded in absolute silence with Roman quietly watching her every move, trying no doubt to read her mood. Now that she knew it all, she understood why he’d been so stingy when it came to being forthcoming with her. The whole thing reeked of fiasco, and if it weren’t for the fact that there was real and not imagined danger all around them, she would have played down most of what she’d learned.
It wasn’t until after he’d actually shown her the photo going around Passion that she crumbled.
“My memory stick,” she’d groaned. “I knew it! Knew it wasn’t lost. That bitch took it.”
After getting her side of the story, something she admitted was akin to pulling out a splinter from the finger of a hysterical child, he’d immediately put on his bodyguard hat, relaying the new information she’d provided to his team.
Since then . . . silence. Rhiann was too lost in her thoughts to engage in meaningless conversation for the sake of filling in the blank spaces.
And he hadn’t just told her things about Liam and BPG and the complications of having a CFO go off the reservation on a vendetta that could at any minute turn deadly. No—he’d also informed her that he knew rather a lot about the secret double life she’d been leading.
Damn. That Cameron Justice dude was good. He’d not only found out about her little adventure in self-publishing, but he also knew quite a bit about some random stupid shit that she’d gotten herself into during her last year in college. None of it was a big deal and all of it could be chalked up to the devastating aftermath of Liam tossing her aside that only got worse once he’d finished the master’s program and gone out to conquer the world.
Had she been stupid and careless? Yes. Was it anything she should be embarrassed about now? No. All of it was filed away neatly under College Coed Shenanigans. Just irked the shit out of her that her life was so easy to access. Since apparently nothing was off-limits, they probably knew when she got her period, too.
After hitting SEND on a lengthy email to Amy with a brief apology for going radio silent, she’d found the courage at last to call Brynn for an emotional confessional that went way better than she ever imagined. By the end of the conversation, Rhi had to wonder just what she’d been so afraid of all this time.
The
y’d ended up laughing like hell when her sister looked up her author page and teased her unmercifully about the pen name she chose, saying no one was going to get a bigger kick out of Rhi’s undercover life than their nana.
With the weight of the secrets she’d been lugging around lifted, Rhiann was feeling so much better about things. Now that she’d cleaned the slate with Brynn, she’d be better able to think clearer where Liam was concerned.
Pushing the laptop aside, she stood and stretched out the kinks leftover from sitting cross-legged in the middle of her big bed for far too long. Sliding her wrist once again into the soft brace, she secured the Velcro straps. Tomorrow, she planned to start the physical therapy exercises the local orthopedist had suggested when he’d removed the hard cast.
Leaving the bedroom, she headed to the kitchen for something to munch on when she heard a ruckus coming from the middle floor. Angry voices echoed up the stairwell, and without thinking, she flew toward the commotion. Her feet barely touched the stairs; she was so intent on rescuing her rescuer from whatever confrontation was unfolding at her front door.
Jumping down the last few steps, she landed with a loud thud and turned, ready to throw herself into the foray. Roman’s look of utter astonishment hit her as funny until she saw who was causing all the commotion.
Liam.
At her door.
Liam at her door looking like sex on two legs.
Steel grey eyes locked on hers, and in that instant, all the breath left her body.
“Oh,” she murmured not believing what she was seeing.
How long they stood there staring at each other she couldn’t tell. Not when the tension arcing between them seemed to make the air around them fuzzy and heavy.
She heard him say, “Rhiann,” in a strangled voice, and then Roman, who was standing between them, simply moved to the side giving Liam a straight shot.
In seconds, he was in front of her. Rhi felt tears sting her eyes. When he reached out and gently cupped her face, tilting it upward, she started to shake.
Would he say it? He did. “Milaya moya.”
In that instant, she knew she’d kill anyone who came between her and this fucked-up, complicated man. Even if it broke her heart again and again and again . . . she’d choose him over just about anything. Fame. Fortune. None of it mattered. Not when he looked at her that way.
“Liam,” she muttered on a shaky sob, putting her hands on his as they cradled her face.
He blinked and shook his head, glancing at the bulky brace. Seeing it set twin flames of menace into his gaze that made his normal scowl more frightening than ever. But seeing it only made her feel safe. And loved. He hadn’t said the words, but that look told her all she needed to know.
And then he lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips with a reverent gentleness that melted her heart. With his tongue slowly tracing the line of her lips, she whimpered and parted her mouth in sweet surrender.
When at last he pulled back, she heard him whisper as he gathered her against his hard body, “Are you still mad at me?”
Burrowing into his neck, Rhiann inhaled his unique scent and bit back a groan. “I hate you,” she told him.
His arms tightened their hold, and he sighed. “I’m going to make this up to you, baby. I swear.”
“You better,” she murmured, losing herself in the tender, bittersweet moment.
Roman cleared his throat, but Liam ignored him. When he did it again, he finally relaxed his hold on her shaking body, enough that she was able to turn toward Roman.
Grinning shyly, she said, “Is cock blocking in your job description?”
It was just the moment of levity the situation called for as both men cracked up, laughing at her jest.
“Remind me to revisit your duties, Bishop.” Liam chuckled. “You don’t play fair.”
Roman hooted a laugh. “Did you really think I would?”
“All right you two.” Rhi giggled. “Someone care to tell me what’s going on?”
“Exactly my question, too,” Roman griped. “Care to explain, Boss?”
Taking Liam by the hand, because now that she had him where she could touch him, she wasn’t letting go—Rhi led him from the door and up the staircase into the great room.
“Wow. This place is amazing,” he told her with that half scowl, half smile thing he did so well. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Should I buy property here?”
Roman barked a laugh. “Watch it, Boss. She plays Monopoly like it’s real.” To her, he mock-whispered, “Play your cards right, Princess, and you’ll have the deeds to Park Place AND Boardwalk.”
Smiling wickedly, she made the universal gesture for crying and burbled, “Wah, wah.”
They each took a seat around the big wood table in the dining area with Rhiann taking the chair at the head of the table putting the men on each side of her. She wanted to be able to see both their faces having decided that the time for silent communication was over. She was either part of whatever the fuck was going on or they were going to get it verbally from her with all filters off.
“So,” Roman questioned. “You’re here, why?”
Turning expectant eyes on Liam, she waited for his answer but before a single word came from his mouth, she blurted out, “And why are you wearing a suit? You do know we’re at the beach, right?”
“It’s his uniform,” Roman snarkily interjected. “I think he wears a damn tie in the shower. What do they call that?” he mocked. “Never nudism?”
Rhiann had to bite back a laugh at the befuddled expression on Liam’s face. Teasing was so not his forte—neither giving nor receiving.
“I am not a gymnophobe,” the scowling man griped. Running his fingers down his tie and into his vest, he frowned deeper and muttered. “It’s just how I feel most comfortable.”
“Well, I have no fucking idea what a gymnophobe is but if it has anything to do with a reluctance to get naked, we’ll have to see about that.”
He looked at her with stark hunger in his expression. Getting naked together was something they did really, really well. “And, you’ll be losing the suit, too. Immediately,”
“I don’t have anything but suits,” he muttered grumpily. “And I don’t appreciate being the butt of your jokes.”
“Then don’t dress like a butthead!” she teased.
When Roman chuckled and she grinned at him, he finally loosened up and cracked a half smile.
“Point taken but I don’t think a trip to the local Wal-Mart is in the cards.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she giggled, patting his hand for reassurance. “Just leave it to me. We may be pretty far from the fashion district but finding you some clothes meant for actual humans on vacation won’t be a problem.”
Eyeing him lazily, she turned to Roman and joked, “What do you think? Jeans and an OBX hoodie?”
The lighthearted moment was just what they needed before getting down to the nitty-gritty.
“All right, all right, you two,” Roman cut in. “Time to get serious.” Looking at Liam he again asked, “Why the surprise visit? I take it something happened?”
“Yeah. What happened is that I got tired of waiting for Kim to make her next move. Even Jill agreed that playing it so cautious was only dragging things out.”
Glaring at Roman, he added, “And, by the way, you dickhead, thanks for not telling me your fake British friend was gay. Came as quite the shock to find her swapping spit with her girlfriend yesterday morning in my kitchen.”
Roman slapped his hand on the table and burst out laughing as he gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Knowing you were squirming was the most fun I’ve had in ages.”
“Did you know about this?” he asked Rhi. She nodded and bit her lip with suppressed laughter that earned her an adorably stern frown.
“Anyway,” Liam muttered darkly, “I had Marjorie send that putz in legal off to Montreal after feeding him some bullshit about being an up and comer and telling him BPG wanted to see if he was rea
dy to step up to the plate. If he does what he’s supposed to do, he’ll be finalizing a deal to buy a string of hotels and will be out of Kim’s orbit.”
“Hmmm. Good move, Boss.”
“And then there’s Kim. She’s been MIA too long for comfort. Gary has her tattooed boy toy in the crosshairs, and it appears whatever she’s up to doesn’t involve him. I think, and they do, too, that she’s moving in for the kill.”
Rhiann groaned at his choice of words and dropped her head into her hands.
“She’s here,” Roman offered. “Donna, the woman across the street,” he explained, “thinks she ran into her on the jogging path along the beach road. Sporting a black wig and some really tacky sneakers that looked a bit too new to be believable, it looked to Donna like she was checking the house out. Probably trying to figure out what Miss Wilde and I are up to.”
“Were you planning on telling me this?” Rhiann crossed her arms in front of her chest and huffed with a glaring sulk.
“Of course,” he assured her. “No more secrets, I promised.”
“There’s something else,” Liam muttered.
Two pair of eyes turned their questioning gaze his way.
“A blind item showed up on one of those fucking insider gossip sites. Marjorie saw it and brought it to my attention. Some asshole blogger with a hard-on for what he calls the domination of the people by financial monoliths.”
Roman and Rhiann both groaned and shook their heads. Good grief. What the hell did that even mean?
Liam’s scowl deepened. “He wrote about the Ward takeover. Called it an example of patricidal arrogance. Basically, the inference was nothing short of slanderous, but it got tongues wagging. It’s only a matter of time before someone asks Ward for a comment.”
“What the fuck,” Roman growled while Rhiann followed along silently and tried to read between the lines on something she had no clue about. Did not require footnotes to figure out that whoever this Ward person was, these blind items didn’t bode well for BPG.
Wilde Heart (Wilde Women Book 2) Page 29