Damaged: Dare to Decide, Book 2

by Emilia Violet

  And I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I was in big trouble.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Liam

  I had to give it to Jared, he knew how to throw a party. He'd rented the penthouse at the brand new five star Urban Rose hotel, and gone all out for no reason other than he felt like throwing a party. I stumbled past some sort of contortionist show in the corner of the room, two chicks in sequinned Lycra tying themselves in weird knots, and grabbed a shot from a passing waiter. I knocked it back, trying to recall if it was my fifth or sixth so far.

  Partying had been the last thing I'd felt like doing tonight, and when I'd realised just how little it interested me, I'd forced myself to get up and come here, disgusted by the loser I was fast becoming. It was so fucked up. Hard as I fought against it, I was changing and I couldn't stand it.

  I'd turned up in a foul mood and in my messed up logic, I'd decided that getting blind drunk might improve things. So far, it hadn't.

  Mia and her friends were here, which I hadn't expected. I was pretty sure none of them had ever met Jared, except maybe Mia in passing. These were my friends, my circle, not theirs. They had their own preppy little group to brush shoulders with, the bankers and ex-boarding school chums from their privileged world. Their twee little dinner parties, the wine tasting evenings, and Polo on the weekends. They didn't fit in here. I saw Ryan across the room and followed the direction of his eyes right to Saskia. She was dancing and laughing, her short dark hair swinging like a glossy curtain around her shoulders, her eyes sparking. Ryan couldn't seem to look away and I realised the question of who had invited them wasn't such a mystery after all.

  I hadn't spoken to Mia in the three days since I'd tattooed her. She'd gone back to her place afterwards and I'd been relieved when she had left. That night had been pure torture for me. Desperate to touch her, yet knowing I couldn't. It was clear to me that this obsession needed to come to an end, and fast. I knew now, if we crossed that line again, things would get messy. Feelings would get stronger. She would want things from me I had no intention of giving. Commitment. Fidelity. And it was what she deserved. But I wasn't the man to give it to her. I knew how these things worked. Sooner or later, she would leave, or I would get bored, and then we'd both wish we'd left this thing alone. I needed to keep my distance from her. I was losing myself, and I needed to claw my way back before I fell any deeper into the rabbit hole. I strode over to where Ryan stood, chatting to an old friend of mine, Cam Mason. Cam was a tattoo artist who'd worked for me right back in the early days of Stallions and Sprites, but he'd left to start his own place a few years back. It wasn't anywhere near the level of success my place was, but it did well for him and I knew, these days he spent more time with his music than his inks. He was an epic guitarist, he'd formed a band shortly after opening his studio and they had quickly grown a big following. I predicted big things for him in the next few years.

  “Hey, man,” Cam said as I approached.

  I blinked, my eyes struggling to focus on his face and I realised I was more wasted than I'd thought. That last shot had been a bad idea. With a huge effort, I pulled his face into focus, fixing my eyes on his light brown hair, thick beard and piercing blue eyes. I'd always liked Cam. He was free and wild, just like me and together we'd caused a lot of trouble in the past. Ryan nodded and excused himself and I watched as he headed off in Saskia's direction, rolling my eyes in irritation. What was it about these fucking girls that had us all obsessing like little fanboys?

  “So how's it going?” Cam asked, taking a swig of his beer. “I haven't seen you around much lately. I was beginning to think you'd gone tame.”

  “Me? It would take a lot to tame me, you know that, man,” I said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my jeans and offering him one.

  “Can we smoke in here?”

  I shrugged, lighting up and he grinned, taking one from the pack in my hand. “Hey, is that cute chick still with you?”

  “What? Who?”

  “You know, the little one. Short spiky hair, piercings... the receptionist girl?”

  “Oh, Sandy. Yeah, she's still around.”

  “I'm assuming you... ” he wiggled an eyebrow and I laughed.

  “Actually, no. Not that she didn't try it on. I wasn't interested,” I said, taking a deep drag of my cigarette. I could hear Mia's tinkling laugh even across a room full of people. It made me feel irritable, I didn't want her here. I didn't want to be so highly tuned in to the sound of her voice. There were so many beautiful women here tonight. Women that didn't come with strings. Emotions. Mess. Why couldn't I focus my attention on one of them, instead of Mia?

  “Not interested?” Cam frowned, scratching his beard. “Fuck, dude, send her over to my place then. I'd be only too happy to take her off your hands.”

  “Aren't you the generous one?”

  “Happy to be of service,” he winked. “Seriously though, you've missed loads lately. You sure you're not turning all weird and middle aged on me? A premature journey into the world of pipes and slippers?”

  “Hey, watch yourself. I don't do anything prematurely. You'll soil my reputation with words like that, and it's taken years to cultivate,” I said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  “So you're not spending your weekends at garden centres and watching reality TV then?” he grinned.

  “No way. You know me, man, I'll never change. I'll go to my grave with music blaring, a beer in one hand, a pair of breasts in the other. Speaking of which, I'm going to grab another drink.”

  He nodded. “Catch you later then, dude.”

  I made my way across the room, stepping carefully in my effort not to stumble drunkenly into anyone and look like a dick. The talk with Cam had made me even more unsettled. I hadn't realised just how obvious the change in me had been, but if he'd noticed, it was clear that the time had come for me to do something to reclaim myself. I'd let my obsession with Mia become more serious than it needed to be.

  I thought I heard her calling my name, but I didn't glance back as I headed into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I took a long piss, then splashed water on my face, sobering up a little so I could go back out to the party and show them all that I was still me. Still the same fun loving carefree guy they all expected me to be.

  My phone rang and I pulled it from my pocket, frowning as I saw my dad's name on the caller I.D. I hadn't spoken to him in at least five years. What could he want from me now? I put the phone to my ear, hearing the crackle of the line, trying to picture him in the tiny stone house in the middle of the Irish countryside where I'd grown up. Both Kai and I had tried to give him the money to buy somewhere better, more comfortable, less isolated, though it wasn't out of a sense of gratitude for anything he'd done for us – he'd basically left us to raise ourselves, even after mum had walked out on us and he'd been all we had. But helping him out of poverty had seemed like the right thing to do. He'd been anything but grateful though, refusing outright to take a penny from either of us. I wished I could believe that it was his pride that was stopping him from accepting our money, our charity, as he called it. It would have been stupid and stubborn, but at least I could have understood where he was coming from. Accepted it even. But over the years I'd come to realise, it wasn't his pride, but his resentment that stopped him accepting our help. He hated that we'd broken through the shitty odds we'd been dealt and made successful lives for ourselves. He wanted less for the both of us. He wanted us to repeat his mistakes and end up where he had, and when we'd forged a new path, he'd cut us out of his life so he didn't have to look at us. Which was why, somehow I knew, this phone call wasn't going to bring anything good.

  “Pa?” I said, lowering myself to sit on the edge of the copper, roll top bathtub.

  “Liam? Can you hear me? This line is utter bollocks!”

  “I can hear you.”

  “Good.” There was a short silence as I waited for him to speak. “Well, I'll get right to the point, shall I? It's your mother.�
�

  “I don't have a mother,” I said, anger and buried pain combining in my belly.

  “Well, not anymore,” my father said in a brusk voice. “She's dead. That's why I'm calling. She had a stroke, apparently.”

  The air left my lungs and I was suddenly glad I was sitting down. Dead. Gone. I didn't know how to feel. Somehow, the little boy inside me had never quite let go of a glimmer of hope, a sick desire that one day she would come back and give me some sort of explanation for what she'd done. To make sense of the mess in my head, the question of how a mother could walk away from her children so easily. I had needed to know if she thought it was my fault, if I'd pushed her into leaving somehow. I'd wanted her to see that I'd made it without her. That I didn't need her anyway. “Does Kai know?” I said, my words thick in my throat.

  “No. I can't get hold of him. Can you pass it on?” he said. He sounded bored, like the conversation was too much of a hassle for him to manage.

  “I'll tell him. I doubt he'll care. She's been dead to us for a long time.” I hung up the phone, shoving it in my pocket and storming out of the bathroom, almost slamming into Mia who was waiting outside the door.

  “Liam,” she said, reaching out to touch my chest. “What's wrong? You look upset.”

  Anger flared in me, spreading like wildfire through my limbs. “You're what's wrong!” I spat, glaring at her through unfocused eyes. “Why are you everywhere I go? Why can't you give me some fucking space?” I pushed past her, striding determinedly for the exit. I had to get out of there before I lost it completely.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mia

  I stared after him, watching the back of his leather jacket as he stormed out of the party, my heart pounding hard. He'd been acting strange all night, avoiding me, turning his head in the opposite direction when I glanced at him across the room. Cold. Nothing like his usual behaviour.

  I hadn't had so much as a text from him since he'd tattooed me and I'd been missing him terribly. In fact, the only reason I'd come tonight was just because I'd hoped to run into him. Just to talk. To see his face. Hear his laugh. But as soon as I'd caught a glimpse of him, I'd known instinctively that tonight he needed his space. And I'd given it to him. Kept my distance. Talked to my friends. I'd only waited by the bathroom to check he was okay. He'd looked so miserable as he stumbled drunkenly down the corridor. But when he'd stormed out of there like an angry bull, he'd looked anything but okay. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. There was something broken and desperate in his eyes and I needed to do something to make it go away.

  I'd only wanted to comfort him. Be a good friend. But to hear him blame his mood on me – he wasn't being fair. In fact, I was pretty sure what he was trying to do was send me a clear message. I've had what I wanted from you and now I'm not interested. It couldn't be clearer. Hadn't I known this very thing right from the start? Sex and friendship didn't mix. We'd taken the risk. Crossed the invisible line and now we couldn't undo it. We could never be just friends again. There was no Liam and Mia. Not anymore.

  I hated the pain that built in me now. The sensation of having my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Because, though I would never admit it, I'd begun to believe we could have a chance at being together – not just as friends. I'd begun to trust him. When he'd kicked Naomi out, risking his business and reputation, that had meant something, though it had taken me a little while to realise it. He had changed. But now, just as I was beginning to let my guard down, to trust him with my heart, he'd treated me like I was nothing but an irritating nuisance he couldn't seem to get rid of.

  Well, if he wanted me out of his life, fine. I wouldn't beg for his friendship. I didn't even want it anymore.

  I walked back through the party, pushing through the sprawl of bodies, finding Saskia and Liliana laughing together as Ryan walked away. “What's funny?” I asked numbly.

  “Just Ryan flirting with Sassy,” Lil grinned.

  “No he wasn't flirting!” Saskia whispered urgently, her cheeks colouring. “He was just telling a funny story.”

  “He was flirting. And so were you,” Lil smiled smugly.

  Saskia shook her head, a tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked, her eyes filling with concern as she looked at me.

  I shook my head. “Actually, I'm not feeling great. I think I'm going to slip off home.”

  “We'll come with you,” she said without hesitation. Lil nodded in agreement, her round blue eyes sympathetic.

  “No, no, don't. You should stay and enjoy the party. Dance with Ryan,” I said, forcing a smile though I was sure it hadn't reached my eyes.

  “We're taking you home. No arguments, okay?” Sassy said firmly. She put an arm around my waist, guiding me to a bedroom off to one side of the main room, sorting through the pile of coats and handing mine to me.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. “Both of you. You're such good friends to me.”

  “Because we love you,” Lil smiled, slipping her jacket on over her sparkly silver dress. “Come on, let's get you home to bed. You look ready to drop.”

  I glanced in the full length mirror on the wardrobe door and realised she was right. I looked pale and broken. The mirror image of what I'd seen in Liam's face before he'd stormed out and left me. I followed them to the exit, wanting nothing more than to climb into my bed and hide beneath my duvet for a very long time. I should never have let myself imagine. This was the mess that came from opening your heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mia

  I sat huddled in a thick angora throw, my feet curled beneath me on the sofa as I grasped a hot cup of coffee between both hands. The folders of drawings and mood boards I'd put together for the Knightsbridge house were open on the cushions in front of me, but I couldn't seem to concentrate on them. My eyes kept drifting to the blank, lifeless screen of my phone. He hadn't called. I hadn't slept a wink. And he hadn't called.

  A thousand stories, excuses, reasons for how he'd behaved last night swirled through my frazzled mind. This wasn't like him. Liam wasn't a mean person. He'd looked so pale coming out of that bathroom last night, like he was in shock or something, I couldn't help but worry about him. I tried to be logical, not to let my emotions run away with themselves. If something was wrong, surely he would take some time to absorb it and then, when he'd calmed down, he would call me. He would apologise for the awful things he'd said. My chest swelled painfully as I remembered the cold look in his eye. I couldn't stand that this thing between us, whatever it was, whatever it might have become, was over already. During the past few months, Liam had become important to me. The idea that I wouldn't get to see him anymore made me feel hollow and desperate. I needed him. I stared at my phone again, willing it to ring. He would call. He had to.

  Stifling a yawn, I packed up the folders, stacking them in a pile and sliding the throw from my shoulders with a shiver. I was exhausted but I didn't have the option of going back to bed. Despite the fact that it was Saturday morning I had work to do. Sandra Millingham – the owner of the Knightsbridge house – had declared she was far too busy to meet me during the week to discuss the designs, and given the importance of this job in bolstering the reputation of my fledgling business, I was only too happy to accommodate her every wish.

  I drained the last of my coffee, knowing I had to shut my worries over Liam away in a tightly locked box for now. I needed to present my ideas to Sandra today and I wanted to do it with a clear head, filled with energy and excitement for what we were going to create, so she would get caught up in it too. I'd worked so hard to get it just right and as soon as she gave the okay, we could get started with the transformation. It would be stunning.

  “There you are!” Sandra tutted as she swung the front door wide open, her mouth pursed tightly as she glared at me. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come inside.” I looked down at my watch, my forehead creasing. I was exactly fifteen minutes early for our meeting, so I had no idea why she was in s
uch a flap, acting like I'd kept her waiting. I swallowed my irritation and followed her in, my breath hitching at the sight of the high ceilinged hallway. There was a huge, arched window above the door, allowing natural light to spill into the entrance hall, touching everything in its path. Though right now the walls were bare plaster and the floorboards rough and unfinished, when I'd finished in here it would be breathtaking. I had a fresh, clean, modern design planned for the house, with special little focal points and features in each room. Sandra hadn't had a lot of ideas during our meetings and she gave the impression that she was way out of her depth when it came to interior design.

  She was a no nonsense, practical kind of woman and though I knew the law firm she worked at wasn't at all prestigious, she left no misunderstanding about the fact that her work was her main priority in life. Hence me coming here on a Saturday when I should have still been in bed... waiting for an Irish rogue to call, I thought wryly. I followed Sandra into the living room, taking in her tight brown ponytail, black polyester slacks and ill fitting blue shirt. Inheriting her late father's money hadn't changed her in the slightest. She gestured to the centre of the room where a folding table and two deckchairs had been laid out, and I placed my folder down with a wide smile. “I can't wait to show you what I've come up with,” I said, taking a seat in the wobbly deckchair. I flattened my feet against the ground to stabilise myself. “Let me show you the gorgeous material I've found for the curtains in here.” I reached for the folder, flicking it open to the living room section. “I wanted to keep it very light to take advantage of the huge windows, we'll have white walls here, here and here,” I said, pointing, and then splashes of soft lilac to bring warmth and life...” I broke off mid-sentence, my excitement hanging in the air between us as I realised that Sandra was not lit up with the same enthusiasm as me. Not even close. She remained standing, her arms crossed tightly across her bust as she stared down at the folder of detailed drawings, clippings from magazines and scraps of fabric samples. She reached down, using her index finger to flick dispassionately through the pages, then pushed them aside shaking her head. “No, no, no,” she sighed. “This isn't right at all.”