by Hannah Ford
At least, that’s what I would have thought.
But now I wasn’t so sure.
Something had shifted with Annabelle ever since we’d arrived at the house.
And something had shifted with Liam, too.
While he’d been always cold and shut off, it was as if he were taking it to a different level now.
His insistence that I not talk to his mother had been almost constant, and now I’d just told him that she’d offered me a Xanax and he had no reaction. It was like this house, this place, being around his parents were starting to magnify all his tendencies.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
He pulled off his shirt and disappeared into the bathroom.
I dragged my stuff over to my side of the room.
In my suitcase, nestled right on top, was the bag of books that I’d bought in the bookstore casino, the Harry Potter book and the other one, the silly romantic comedy.
I took a pic of the Harry Potter book and texted it to Maddie.
Remember how your mom read this to you when we were younger and I was so jealous because I had no one to read it to me? I’m giving up my protest and finally reading it
It was a silly text, and definitely not the kind of thing that was going to make up for what I’d done -- running off and changing my mind about staying with Liam wasn’t going to be solved with a text about Harry Potter, and as soon I sent it, I felt foolish.
I sat down on the bed, listening to the sound of the shower coming through the bathroom door and looked around.
The room was sparse. It was a good size for a bedroom – big enough for at least a queen bed, a walk-in closet, and its own adjoining bathroom -- but the room itself was pretty bare. The bed was a double, with a chestnut frame, the wood of the headboard forming a lattice pattern.
There was nothing on the walls -- no pictures, no posters, nothing -- which were painted a dark blue. Was this Liam’s room when he was growing up? There was no sign that this used to be his room, no sign that it was even ever inhabited.
There were no marks on the walls from posters, no scuffmarks on the woodwork. The carpet was slightly worn, but it was the kind of wear that seemed normal, the way it would be if you were using the room as a guest room.
I stared out the window, which looked out over the backyard. The lawn was perfectly manicured, the crisscrossing lines from the mower still visible. Behind the property line was a thick swash of trees, tall California pines and redwoods, creating a beautiful blanket of dark green that slashed across the deep blue of the sky.
The sound of the bathroom door shutting snapped me out of my reverie. I turned around to find Liam in nothing but a towel. The fabric cinched around his waist, showing off his beautiful body, beads of water glistening off his muscles.
Another towel was in his hand, and he used it to dry his hair, leaving his hair mussed and damp.
Jesus.
My core clenched as I ran my eyes up his body. His masculinity permeated the room, his presence disarming.
“Was this your room?” I asked him. “When you lived here growing up?”
“Yes.”
He offered no other explanation, instead rummaging in his suitcase for clothes. A drop of water slid from his chest down his smooth torso before disappearing underneath his towel.
I averted my eyes. “Did your parents redo it after you moved out?”
“No.” He offered no other explanation. “You should get ready.”
“For what?”
“We’re going to dinner.”
“Just us?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about going out to dinner with Liam alone. On one hand, my heart longed for the way it might be if it were just the two of us, the way it had been last night. But the other part of me wanted to tell him that if he thought I was just going to pretend like everything was normal between us with the way he was acting, he was totally wrong.
“No. With my parents and my cousin and his girlfriend.”
“Your cousin?” I repeated, surprised. This must have been the cousin that Annabelle had mentioned earlier, and I was eager for details.
“Just get ready, Emery.” He looked at me, his expression blank. “Do you want hair and makeup?”
The thought of having to make small talk with Tevi and Marnie was exhausting. “No, I’m… I’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “I’ll be in the office next door working. Be ready by seven thirty.”
7
The restaurant was fancier than I’d expected, and as soon as we pulled up in front of it, I felt underdressed. The clothes that had been packed in my suitcase were all gorgeous, but I still wasn’t quite sure what was appropriate for what occasion, and I was starting to learn that there were slight nuances in fashion that could send you sliding into inappropriate territory no matter how hard you tried.
I’d chosen a simple black and white checked wrap dress that showed off my curves, and done my hair in loose waves around my shoulders.
But the steakhouse that Liam pulled up in front of later that evening was chick, hip, and extremely fancy and extravagant, the kind of place where people spent thousands of dollars on one bottle of Cristal. Or whatever the latest fancy champagne was. Was Cristal even champagne? I wasn’t cool enough to know. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that my dress was too casual.
“You didn’t tell me this place was so fancy,” I said nervously, watching out the window of the Porsche as a woman with her hair pulled back in a chignon walked into the restaurant in a beautiful cream sheath dress. “You said it was a steakhouse.”
“It is a steakhouse.”
I snorted. When I thought of steakhouse, I thought of a New York Strip with a side of mashed potatoes. This was the kind of place that served you two slivers of rare beef surrounded by pickled vegetables.
“It’s not that fancy,” Liam said.
“Too fancy for a wrap dress.” I pulled at the bottom of my dress. I wished I could have texted Maddie and asked her what to wear. Maddie would have known. She knew everything about fashion.
I pulled my phone out of my simple black cloth clutch and texted her.
I miss you so much.
I sent it, not expecting a reply.
“Hey,” Liam said. I turned.
He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and a button up grey shirt that was elegantly tailored to his broad shoulders and hugged his biceps perfectly. He’d slid some product through his hair, but it looked effortless, like he’d casually mussed it before leaving the house.
And I knew that was exactly what he’d done, because I’d watched him standing in front of the mirror. Watched him shave, something about the way the razor slid over his perfect jaw exquisitely erotic. Then he’d slapped on some yummy-smelling aftershave, ran some product through his hair half-hazardly, and gotten dressed. He was gorgeous, Liam Rutherford, but he had no time for the trimmings of vanity.
I hated him.
“You look beautiful,” he told me now, his eyes dipping down to the middle of my dress, taking in my cleavage.
“I look underdressed.”
“You look beautiful,” he repeated.
I looked away. I wanted to appreciate his words, but there was a distance between us that made it impossible. I resented this wall he’d put up.
I reached out and opened the door, got out of the car before he could come out and open the door for me. It was breaking one of his rules, but I didn’t care.
He got out and handed the keys to the valet, his hand tightening around my waist. He steered me toward the door of the restaurant and into the lobby.
His parents were waiting.
“There you are!” Malcolm said cheerfully, clapping Liam on the back. “We were starting to think you’d gotten lost!”
“We didn’t get lost.” Liam offered no further explanation, even though I knew for a fact that his parents had told him to be at the restaurant at eight, and we hadn’t even left the house until eight. He’d refused their off
er to ride with them, saying we’d meet them there.
“Honestly, Liam, you should have – ” Annabelle started, but Malcolm shot her a look, seemingly to telegraph her to shut up, to not give Liam a hard time. She clamped her mouth shut. That same feeling I’d had before skittered up my spine. The feeling of something just being off. I was suddenly very aware of the Xanax in my clutch. I’d put it in there, not knowing what to do with it after Annabelle had refused to take it back. Now I realized how stupid that was. I’d seen enough crime shows to know that getting caught with a Xanax you didn’t have a prescription for could get you in a lot of trouble.
I should have flushed it down the toilet. I glanced around for the restroom, wondering if it would be okay to do it here, at the restaurant.
“There he is!” a booming male voice pounded through the room, and then another big hand was clamping onto Liam’s shoulder. “Good to see you, cuz.”
I turned to find a familiar-looking man standing there, his smile wide, his eyes the same bright blue of Liam’s father’s.
“Hello,” Liam said tightly.
The man turned to me. God, he looked so familiar. “Emery,” he said, nodding. “I don’t think we’ve ever been formerly introduced.” He held his hand out to me. “Drew Keenan. Liam’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said automatically. Liam’s hand tightened around my waist as I took Drew’s hand.
A second later, I realized who he was.
Drew.
The FBI agent who wanted Liam to hack into that phone, the one who’d come to us that day in Liam’s building. The one who kept calling Liam.
They were cousins?
I’d barely had time to process this new round of information when suddenly, a woman rushed up to Drew. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “The lines for the bathroom in this place are ridiculous. And the bathroom attendant was no help, even when I told her that I had a reservation.” She placed her hand on Drew’s shoulder, her nails oval perfectly filed.
I recognized her voice even before I saw her face.
Vienna.
Liam’s ex.
“Hello, Emery,” she said, giving me a smile. Her blue eyes regarded me coolly over Drew’s shoulder. “It’s nice to see you again. More clothed this time, I see.” She laughed.
“Don’t start, Vienna,” Liam said, his voice a simmering warning.
“What?” Vienna asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “I just meant it was nice to see her with clothes on. Her dress is beautiful.”
“You’re being condescending and snide,” Liam said.
“Hey,” Drew said warningly, and the way Vienna snuggled up to him and the protective tone in Drew’s voice made me realize they were together. Jesus. Why hadn’t Liam told me any of this?
Because Liam doesn’t tell you anything, the voice in my head whispered.
Liam ignored Drew and instead summoned the hostess. “Our reservation was for eight,” he said, annoyed.
I watched the young woman’s eyes widen as she realized who it was she was talking to. Liam Rutherford, tech genius and billionaire. “Certainly, Mr. Rutherford.” She scurried off.
Liam glanced at his watch, still visibly annoyed. “I’m going to get a drink at the bar.”
“Great idea!” Malcolm said, excited by this suggestion. He put one hand on Liam’s back and one on Drew’s. “The men will go down to the cigar bar and have a drink and a smoke, and the womenfolk can stay up here and have a chat.” He winked at us, giving me in particular, a smile.
“Womenfolk?” Vienna said, sighing. “Please, Malcolm, this isn’t the 1800s.” But her tone was teasing, making it clear she was more amused than offended.
Malcolm winked at Vienna. Then he steered Liam and Drew toward the stairs that apparently led to some smoky enclave that doubled as an outdated boys’ club.
A moment later, the hostess returned, leading me and the other two women to a table in the corner of the restaurant.
She seemed disappointed to find that Liam had gone downstairs.
We sat down at the round table, Annabelle in the middle of me and Vienna.
“I haven’t been here in forever,” Vienna said. “I do hope the chef has gotten it together after what happened last year.”
“Mmm,” Annabelle said, murmuring her approval. She motioned for a waiter, then ordered a bottle of wine for the table.
I pulled my phone from my purse and immediately texted Liam.
Why didn’t you tell me Drew was your cousin? Or that he and Vienna were dating?
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, waiting for his reply, or at least to see the dots indicating that he was typing back. But there was nothing. My hands tightened in frustration.
“Now, Emery, you must tell us about how you met Liam,” Annabelle said. She gave me a smile, then took a sip of her water.
“I met him when he stopped to ask me for directions,” I said. Why not? It was as good of a lie as any. I set my phone down on the table, face down, so that if Liam texted back no one else would be able to see it. I noticed Vienna frown a little bit, like putting my cell phone on the table was gauche.
“Oh, how cute, he asked you for directions,” Vienna said, sounding like she thought it was anything but.
“It is,” Annabelle said. She sounded delighted.
The waiter returned with the bottle of wine, uncorked it, and poured us each a glass.
I’d taken two gulps before realizing that the other women at the table were allowing the wine to breathe, moving their glasses in a circular motion and allowing the air to hit the alcohol.
“Liam has always been so stubborn,” his mother said, finally taking a sip of her wine. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, unlike Vienna, who, even though her lips were lined in the palest pink, left no marks at all. “I’m surprised he stopped to ask for help.”
“He must have been desperate,” Vienna agreed, regarding me over the table. Her words dripped with double entendre, as if she wasn’t just talking about the directions -- that somehow Liam’s choice of me also indicated some measure of desperation.
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think,” I said casually.
“He must really value your opinion,” Annabelle said.
“I hope so,” I said simply. Annabelle’s demeanor had completely changed from earlier, when she’d slipped a Xanax into my hand – now she was back to being friendly and happy to see me. It was more than a little disconcerting.
My phone buzzed next to me, and I picked it up to see Liam’s reply.
It wasn’t your concern.
Fuck that, I typed back, Fuck that not being my concern, Liam, if it has to do with you it is my fucking concern.
“It’s so nice to see Malcolm so relaxed,” Vienna said. She took another sip of her wine, the delicate stem of the glass looking natural and perfect in her hand.
“Yes, it’s been very stressful for him,” Annabelle agreed. “With the new restaurant opening.”
“I can imagine that must be hard,” I said in an effort to join the conversation. But my body felt wired, tensed with anticipation.
I was distracted by the text I’d sent to Liam, the idea of him getting it filling me with a certain kind of dread – Liam didn’t take kindly to being spoken to like that. But I felt excitement, too.
I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or if it was being left here with Annabelle and Vienna, but I had the sudden desire to push Liam to his limit.
I drummed my fingers on the table.
The man sitting at the table next to us met my eye. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, his salt and pepper hair slicked back from his forehead. He was dining alone, a plate of something that looked like raw fish wrapped in bacon sitting in front of him.
When he noticed me looking at him, gave me a smile. I smiled back, but then quickly looked away.
“It never stops,” Annabelle agreed. “After this restaurant opens, he’s looking to expand into Oregon. He’s going to b
e talking to investors this month.”
“That’s exciting,” I said.
“Obviously you don’t know anything about meeting with investors, Emery,” Vienna said, giving me a sympathetic smile. “There’s nothing remotely interesting about meeting with them. You kiss their asses and half the time they have no idea what they’re doing. They’re all rich boys with daddy’s money.”
“I didn’t know that you knew so much about business,” I said to her. “What kind of business is it that you own?”
“I’ve been around business my whole life,” she said icily, obviously not liking the idea that I was challenging her.
“Mmm,” I agreed, as if Liam had told me everything about her. I picked up my wine glass by the stem as I’d seen her do, and took another sip. My body was starting to feel just a little bit warm and relaxed, and it emboldened me. “But what kind of business do you own? I mean, you must own a business, right? Since you know so much about it?”
“I have an MBA from UCLA,” she said. “And an undergrad from Stanford. And I’m going to start law school in the fall.”
“Those who can’t do, go to school,” I mumbled. I knew about women like Vienna, the kind whose families were rich, who went to school forever and got all kinds of degrees while hiding from the real world. Eventually she’d set up some consulting firm and then marry rich, so that she could “freelance” on the side, which would really just mean having long boozed-filled lunches with clients who she’d landed because they were friends of her parents.
I wondered how much money Drew made. Were FBI agents rich? And then another thought hit me. Liam. That’s who Vienna really wanted to marry.
“What’s your major?” Vienna asked.
“I’m pre-med,” I said, deadpan, enjoying the look on her face as I said it. “I’m hoping to go into pediatric oncology.” I wasn’t exactly sure what specialty I wanted to go into, but pediatric oncology sounded impressive as hell, so I said it.
The waiter returned then, setting down a plate of scallops in front of us. They were wrapped in bacon and drizzled with some kind of tropical-looking orange sauce. On the side of the square plate was a slice of mango arranged carefully over a piece of star fruit.