And then, I died

by Sage, May

  “I know what Mike is. Without being monitored, he might gamble everything in a matter of months. He'll get more money from me, but I've willed fifty one percent of the company to you. ”

  Liam didn't want or need to be part of Dawson and Sons, but he couldn't deny it was entirely unexpected and very pleasant to realize that Michael saw through the bullshit – the facade his elder son had maintained at home. Michael and Mike had seemed like the pair, constantly laughing and going out together like two of the three musketeers.

  However, what option did Michael really have, between people who bent over backwards to please his every whims, an absent wife, and a son who wouldn't talk to him past a curt greeting?

  It took a gulp of wine and three mouthfuls of steak, but finally, Liam heard himself say:

  “I don't mind football.”

  Suddenly a cold shiver ran through his limbs.

  Shit.

  “Does Mike know of this will of yours?”

  •

  Flowers, wine, music. He had brought dinner from her favourite restaurant and played her favourite blues. None of this was particularly out of character, but by desert, Beth was sure there was something going on.

  Liam was taking too much time to consider his answers, looking at her with too much scrutiny; a predator analysing her weaknesses. He hadn't even kissed her all night.

  He must know about Iris, and wonder if she's hidden her from him. He must despise her. Through dinner, she mulled over her various defences.

  Attack normally worked but as knifes, guns, and ninja stars didn’t exactly fit the situation, she wasn’t adequately armed for that particular battle.

  “You don't like the crème brûlée?”

  “It was lovely, thank you.”

  “You've barely touched it.”

  “I can't eat another bite.”

  Not when his grey eyes set on her with that expression.

  They were cold, distant; the eyes of a snake just before it leaped to your throat.

  It shouldn't have been beautiful.

  It was.

  “It's not like you. Are you alright?”

  She might be, when he got to the point.

  “Never better,” she lied. “Yourself?”

  “Well, I have been better.”

  A heavy silence she didn't trust herself to break set in the candlelit dining room, until Liam asked, quite unexpectedly:

  “You don't talk much of your family. You said your mother was French?”

  “Yes, from her mother's side, anyhow. Her father had emigrated from Egypt. She was born in Marseilles, but she left the day after she turned eighteen.”

  It was perhaps the very first time talking of Nadia came as any kind of relief.

  “Why ever would she be in a hurry to leave the south of France?”

  “For a reason you and I can never fully grasp. I suspect Charles may have an idea, though.”

  Liam frowned, lost, as only a Caucasian from a cosmopolitan megalopolis could be.

  “Racism, Liam.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Quite. She didn’t face as much of it around this side of the globe, though. She worked as a model for about a year, met my dad at a function. They lasted three whole years before he shot himself.”

  He nodded, probably recalling her confession explaining her aversion to investments.

  “Where is she now?”

  “Buried next to him.”

  “So, you have no family.”

  “I have a cousin. She's another kind of weird, but we get along. She has a daughter I adore, and a father I'd rather not think of.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Is there a point to this interrogation?” she enquired when irritation finally took over apprehension.

  “I'd like to understand my girlfriend. Is it a crime?”

  It wasn't. It was actually nice of him to care and had she been anyone else, she may have been touched. But it was because anyone else seemed to have stories about their pets, their beach holidays, and their family barbecues.

  “If you need to know, my parents named Uncle Pierce my guardian. He chose to leave me to the care of my grandfather, who was very much into physical punishments,” she replied, getting up and gathering the plates.

  Liam seized her wrist, halting her exit, pulled her to his lap and cupped her face.

  “I didn't realise you could cry,” he said almost reverently, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

  She wasn’t crying really, but her eyes had gotten on the very watery side of the scale. Damn it.

  “Never, unless some idiot bring up my screw up family.”

  “Sorry. I did expect it wouldn't be pretty. If it does make you feel better, my brother is trying to kill me.”

  It wasn't even remotely funny, yet they soon were chuckling.

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Next week. There is still some details I need to clear up.” Such as a paternity test. “How did you find out?”

  “My father told me he's willed me what Mike perceives as his inheritance. He said he hasn't announced it yet, but Mike has known the combination of his safe since high school. Do you have a plan?”

  “His mercenaries are neutralized. Chris and I agree that he will eventually cave and either attempt to hire someone else or try something against you directly. We have him on very close surveillance, so it's just a matter of time. There will be some danger, but it's also the only way to put him away for good.”

  William nodded his understanding, and a long silence ensued.

  It wasn't awkward at all: she was simply enjoying the soothing feel of his hand running up and down her back.

  “My mother was royally screwed up. She OD’ed when I was ten. My father didn't know about me before then. He got my custody and paid for her to go into full-time care. I'm not very close to either of them.”

  “If that was a round of whose-childhood-blew-the-most, I won.”

  “It wasn't. I was just pointing out that neither of us had the best upbringing... which may be why we work, together.”

  As far as she could see, they did. The sex was great, their conversations never dried up as they seemed to have very different views on everything and thoroughly enjoyed arguing their corner, and they… cared.

  But they'd been together for exactly a month. Every couple worked after a month.

  “So, you'll understand why I need to marry you.”

  Liam was quite the accomplished rhetor.

  When he spoke, in that deep, slow, sensuous voice of his, he never failed to retain the interest of the entire room. He could make the latest developments in robotic sound exciting and simple.

  That being said, he may as well have addressed her in Chinese; she had no bloody clue what had sprouted out of the delightful mouth.

  But his hand reached for a red box inside the pocket of his dinner jacket, and when he opened it, a marquise cut diamond stared back at her, making his meaning quite clear.

  She was going to be sick.

  “Mike might not act for months. If we're announcing our engagement now, it will force his hand. At the minute, he stands to gain everything I have, eventually. Now, bring a wife in the equation...”

  Logic. That, she could deal with.

  “It makes sense,” she acknowledged. “We could pretend to get engaged; it will push him to act quickly, hopefully irrationally.”

  Please let it be what he meant.

  “I don't see why we'd pretend, Beth. To make it believable, we'll have to sell it to everyone. I don't want to have to explain why we're backing out.”

  Seriously? Was this his rationale behind his intent to make her his wife? Well, in that case, he wouldn't be too wounded by her reply.

  “Liam, I don't know you and you certainly don't know a thing about me.”

  Not if that had been his idea of a proposal.

  “Besides, I am hiding things from you.”

  Iris, the rape, some of the things she'
d done in Kiev. He hadn't asked, but she knew that if he had, she wouldn't have answered.

  “Things I'm not ready to share and I'd bet anything that the same goes for you. It's not only that we've met less than five months ago; it's because we are both completely closed off. You've also told me you're really into things we haven't tried – things I don't know if I can give you.”

  He seemed ready to interrupt, a word at the tip of his tongue, but she shushed him with one finger and added:

  “But fundamentally, we can't get married because we aren't in love with each other.”

  That was a partial lie.

  Beth was completely head over the hill in love with Liam, and that was exactly why she couldn't settle on getting hitched for the sake of convenience.

  Chapter 13:

  Company

  He wished he'd had Beth at his side in every single function he'd ever attended.

  Liam had tried to get in contact with the Hunts for years, without much success , and there she was, charming their asses off and scoring them both an invite to their next Yacht party.

  Claud Hunt, the uptight, well-established businessman, owned just the kind of factories which could produce Slate Inc's merchandise, but Liam had been the new kid in town – up until he'd walked in with Elizabeth Carver, who wore a vintage cocktail dress, a headband, and his ring.

  The sight of the white gold engagement ring on her left hand caused the usual mix of feelings. Something possessive and gleeful, behind a clear layer of bitterness.

  We aren't in love with each other.

  If she'd said she loved him, he would have felt trapped, pressed, provoked, yet proclaiming that she didn't made him feel exactly that.

  He should have been delighted she saw their relationship with the same practical, rational approach as he had.

  He wasn't.

  I am hiding things from you.

  Was there someone else? What he had told her about him hardly let to him require her faithful devotion.

  Yet that was exactly what he wanted.

  “Come on, son, give us a clue,” Claud bantered, tapping his shoulder.

  They were talking about his work, his project, his baby, where he was expected to shine. Now was not the moment to look into her beautiful green eyes and try to read their secrets.

  “Let's just say, I wouldn't buy a new smartphone just yet,” he replied with a wink.

  “Ah, gadgets! They come in so many shapes and forms these days; what makes you think yours will stand out?”

  Liam just took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the man's wife, Wanda.

  I will need William's authorisation to access any files, the phone told her in Liam's voice when she tried to swipe her way in. But you are welcome to make a phone call and access the internet. And you may want to know there is some lipstick on your teeth. Not that one, top right.

  “Shit.”

  Well, someone had to point it out.

  “I need one of those.”

  I'm not the only prototype in circulation, and if you manage to bribe William, there are currently six of me sitting in his safe.”

  “Keep it light, Ace. We aren't at the office.”

  That was the Hunts in the bag, just like the Tanners.

  He had every confidence in anything he created; the issue was getting the chance to present it and Beth had given him that with a disconcertingly effortless ease. He'd only had to discreetly point them out and explain that he was present tonight mainly in the hope of getting to exchange a few words.

  She was that good.

  He’d looked at her during the entire exchange and she seemed relaxed, in control. Was the anxiety going to kick in later? Not if he could do anything about it. Now their purpose was fulfilled, he intended to make sure they both enjoyed the evening.

  It wouldn’t be too hard. Liam wasn't overly fond of fundraisers as a general rule, but he would have enjoyed camping – his version of hell – in the present company.

  “You’re alright?” he checked, relieved when she gave him the thumbs up, playful and sincere.

  He led her to the dancefloor and butchered his way through a waltz. Beth giggled when he missed yet another step, determined to lead although she was definitely the only one of them even remotely able to do so.

  The giggles did it.

  “Marry me,” he demanded, speaking low against her ear.

  She looked up, aghast, but there was something else in her eyes. Something... wishful?

  “Liam...”

  She never finished that particular sentence.

  A tall, dark-haired, gorgeous bastard known to be the man every woman wanted cut in, grabbing his fiancée by the waist, and skilfully waltzing away with her, a toothpaste advert smile on full display.

  The worst thing was, they looked absolutely perfect together.

  Never had Liam been quite that pissed off about being friends with Jace Warden.

  Over ten minutes passed before they found it necessary to go back to the corner where they'd left him. They were both smiling, openly delighted with each other’s' company.

  Fuck.

  “And Gabriel Johnson? Any news?”

  “You really need to come out of your cave from time to time, Carver. He's a major league ball player.”

  “You're kidding.”

  Liam had conveniently forgotten the common background between the man he had until now considered his best friend and his woman.

  “I can see we're boring Liam, though.”

  Boring wasn't actually accurate. Something along the line of infuriating would have been closer to the truth. He'd just proposed a second time and they were talking about school friends.

  “By the way, you'll have to tell me how you managed to reel him in,” he said, pointing towards his ring. “I have reasons to be quite shocked to hear this guy's going to be a one woman kinda man from now on.”

  She would probably not have guess quite so quickly if he hadn't completely blanched at that, but Jace was really throwing him under a damn bus.

  Shit.

  “Shit,” she echoed. “You've done it together. You've done girls together.”

  Why oh why on Earth had he ever asked that guy if he could sit next to him at his lunch table?

  Jace looked quite contrite; he obviously hadn't expected her to know about this side of him.

  “And that's when we can pretend I didn't say anything?”

  “No, by all means. You'll find that I'm actually quite curious.”

  There was a spark in Jace's eyes when he heard that, but to his credit, he immediately looked at Liam, seeking his sentiment.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.

  Truth was, he had done this to himself when he'd explained to her that he wanted that out of their relationship. Nevermind the fact that he'd completely changed his mind in the meantime; she had said she wanted to try and he owed her that at least.

  If they had to have sex with someone else, Jace was the best partner he could have wished for.

  “Unexpected,” Jace said.

  When his eyes returned to Beth, they had lost all of their educated civility, their reserve. He was giving her the stare no woman alive had ever turned down and Beth, while she didn't disgrace either of them, was visibly affected.

  Nevermind camping: this was hell.

  “How curious?”

  “It's Liam's thing, and I have his ring on my finger,” she said, carefully navigating around the truth. “I'm willing to try. But you're married,” she frowned at his golden wedding band.

  “Hardly. We've been separated for eight years. If you want me, I'm in.”

  Damn, damn, damn.

  He was so screwed.

  •

  She was so screwed.

  Like, literally doubly screwed.

  Worse yet: she was kinda looking forward to it.

  “I'm not going to join in at first,” Jace had said.

  His voice had changed since they'd made it to her apartm
ent; it was deeper, lower, more demanding, and considerably sexier.

  “I'm going to watch you, until you invite me to participate.”

  “It may not be today, Jace,” Liam interrupted. “It's her first time.”

  She wondered how he'd react if she'd retorted that she had had four men once. Four men who'd tied her up, beaten her with a belt before...

  She forced herself to block the recollection. It wasn't anything like the incident.

  It was Jason Warden, the quarterback in 2004 – she'd been prom queen in 2006: they made an awful lot of sense.

  And it was Liam.

  Enough said.

  “I have a question.”

  A very important, if slightly awkward question.

  “Protection doesn't always work. What's happening if I get pregnant?”

  Any couple had that conversation at some point or another; most of the time, it wasn't with a third party, but well, it needed to be clarified.

  “The common courtesy is to perform a paternity test as soon as possible,” Liam replied, visibly tense. “But it hardly matters here. Any child of yours is mine.”

  Was he honest? And in that case, did it mean that the reverse stood? Because there was a little girl of his who was very much in need of an actual mother.

  “I married my bitch of a wife because she was pregnant, Eliza,” Jace confessed. “Although it may not have been mine. My child and his or her mother are two persons I intend to cherish. However, given the circumstances, I'd step down if I need to. I’d expect to be named godfather, though.”

  “How are we going to do this?” she asked nervously.

  Usually by the time they made it to the bedroom, they were both partially naked and very much in the right mood to know exactly what they wanted from each other.

  She was too nervous to even contemplate anything remotely sensual at the second.

  Then Liam stepped forward, tilted her face toward his, and reached around to slowly glide the zip of her dress downwards.

  Right. That's how they'd do this.

  She'd worn a corset under the vintage cocktail dress and Liam groaned when he revealed the black satin.

  “Fuck,” she heard behind her.

  She had already completely forgotten Jace's presence within seconds; when she turned around to face him, she stood still, in complete shock.