Chapter Twenty-Two
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What have I gotten myself into…
Amber
Is there a problem?
No. No, I don’t think there’s a problem.
I’m just having an outing with my husband, who has become the literal incarnation of all my deepest, darkest current fantasies. Confident, smooth, flirty, seductive, obsessed .
He is my male lead. And I don’t know what to do about it.
After taking me to a cafe where he ordered my breakfast for me, guarded me to a table as though someone could attack at any moment, then asked for a bite of my food as though indirect kisses haven’t been my kryptonite for ages, he took me to an adult arcade for games, lunch, more games, a snack, and even more games.
Neon lights paint him now as he stands with bored confidence, decimating with a plastic gun the horde of zombies approaching on the screen in front of us.
It. Is. Loud.
Demandingly loud.
The games and people in this vast room shriek into my ears, but I’m half certain the only thing I can hear is my heart, thundering. In a room over, early drinkers yell at something on a TV. The periodic clack of pool balls hitting each other rides beneath the symphony of music, arcade sound effects, laughter.
Nibbling a loaded fry Liam bought to tide me over after lunch at the restaurant here, I watch the precision of his shots and let the atmosphere seep into my veins.
Everything is darkened electric blue broken by a periodic flash of colored light.
The intimacy afforded in the shadow, in the noise, screams of illicit activity.
Effectively, it carries all the same essence and undertones of my book, without the illegal part.
It is perfect.
A zombie weasels its way past Liam’s line of defense, and the Game Over screen appears as he utters a calm cuss. Eyes dragging to me, he drops the plastic gun back into its place on the machine and scans me head to toe.
Heat races down my spine.
His arm coils around my back, hand planting at my hip. He reels my body in against his while his lips find the shell of my ear. Thumb mindlessly stroking my side, he murmurs, “What time is it, love?”
These fries are too salty. I am parched. “Almost six, I think.”
He kisses my temple. “I made a dinner reservation for six thirty. We should get going.”
My body melts into pudding. Liam. Liam, you evil mastermind, you. Food, games, food, games, and more food… I don’t think I could have dreamed up a better date. I was wholeheartedly expecting him to take me to a bookstore for a quiet little outing that I would—truly—have enjoyed, but I don’t mind going to bookstores by myself.
Bookstores are safe and familiar.
I would not be caught dead here alone, and while everything is right on the brink of overwhelming, I love this. I am one with the midnight shades, drowning in this windowless space. I could scream. No one would ever know it was me.
The anonymity blended with the ability to rawly be whoever I am sinks into my blood like heroin.
I want to package this feeling and keep it with me forever.
Dazed, I follow Liam toward the exit once he unravels from my waist and snags my free hand.
I’m hardly conscious until someone in a sport’s tee who smells like beer rams into my side, spilling the rest of my loaded nacho fries all over the mascot on his chest. His swear jerks me out of lala land.
“You—” He cusses, cornering me, slurring. “Look what you—” He swears. “—did!”
His words transform everything else into a static buzz as I lose Liam’s hand and find myself pressed against an arcade machine.
I stammer, “I-I’m so—”
Liam’s fist locks in the neck of the man’s shirt, choking him when he pulls. Gagged, the man locates Liam when his body comes between us. Coarse as the personification of death himself, Liam murmurs, “Don’t make me kill you.”
Dropping him, Liam flattens a hand to the small of my back and weaves me through the crowd, once again guarding me with his body. “Always causing trouble for me, aren’t you, little princess?” As the rush of the arcade breaks to reveal the lobby’s glass windows and a setting sun beyond them, Liam’s lips graze my cheek. “I’d prefer never to see you cowering for anyone but me ever again. You fear me, Amber. No one else. No one else is allowed to touch you without my permission, and do I really seem like the type of man who shares ?”
Understandably, my legs give out.
Liam chuckles as my knees buckle. His arm clamping around my waist is the only thing that keeps me from hitting the ground.
I do not know how he manages to half carry me back to his car. I only know that my heart cannot take much more of this by the time I collapse in his passenger seat. Adrenaline spikes in my brain. My heart ruptures when he slides into the driver’s seat, eyeing me with smug appreciation.
Suffocating, I say, “You’re…frighteningly good at this.”
He hums. “At what?”
“You know at what ,” I snap. “The acting .”
He plugs his key into the ignition and starts up the vehicle. “Oh, Bambi. You gave me permission to release my inhibitions. It is shocking how precious little acting I find myself performing. This…” His eyes spark as he guides his car out of the parking spot and toward the main road. “This is just fun .”
He’s got to be joking. He cannot basically be my crime lord of a main character. That would be utter nonsense.
“Are you getting good information and ideas for your book?”
Forcing my attention off him so I can attempt to slow my heartbeat, I say, “Yeah. I think so. What was that, that just happened in there? Touch her and die? ”
“Pretty much, yeah. Great micro-trope to include.”
I nod, soo chill. Unbelievably chill. My body does not feel like it is on fire at all . “Yep. You fear me —” I clear my throat. “—is also a great line. I hope you don’t mind if I use some of this—” I clear my throat again; stupid salty fries. “—excellent research verbatim.”
“Not at all. I hope you don’t mind that when I get my paperback, I’ll draw little hearts around the words I directly inspired. I might even get an extra copy and have the scenes framed on the walls by my bed. To think I’d wind up in one of your books, verbatim.”
A nervous laugh trickles out of my shivering chest. “Um. Excuse you. You’re already in one of my books verbatim. The spy one. You’re the female lead—also known as the cutest girl I’ve ever written. Copy and paste of you, the cutest person I know.” I scoff, focusing my energy on recalling I am seated beside a mega cutie—not a hottie crime lord. “What did you think every time she brought up her Barbie movie collection, using arguments you forced me to listen to all throughout high school? Oh, that sounds quite familiar; couldn’t be me, though. ”
“I thought you’d finally gained an appreciation for the artistic beauty that is Barbie.”
“Artistic beauty. Is that what you call the Mariposa duet?”
Liam grips the wheel and scowls at the road. “A tragedy. They should have hired you on as a writer before they decimated the continuity of that mini series. I loved Mariposa so much I watched it daily for a month.”
“The swiftness with which I would have been fired for trying to include Grimm fairy tale themes in their retellings…”
Dead serious, Liam mutters, “I wish they’d get back to retellings.”
“You’re so right. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll give you another spinoff of The Prince and the Pauper . What number are they on now? Four or five?”
Liam’s nostrils flare. “Hush.”
I giggle.
His hand lands on my thigh.
I stop laughing.
Heat spreads from his fingers, siphoning through the fabric of my skirt as his head shakes. “You’re incorrigible. I’m honored you wrote me into your spy story.”
Distracted, I say, “I guess…I missed you.”
His fingers flex.
Liquid heat pools in my stomach; I try not to dwell on it as I wet my parched lips. Hopefully, wherever he’s taking me for dinner has a wide drink selection and excellent refill service. My entire dinner might consist purely of fluids. “The little inside joke of having this international spy dedicated wholly to her Barbie movie collection…the idea that someone so capable was obsessed with something so innocent…I loved it. It’s the only thing that got me through that stupid book.”
We stop at a red light, and Liam stretches across the console to touch a kiss to my cheek. “If I’d only known you missed me, Bambi…I’d have bothered you so much sooner.”
Bothered me. Right. Because I spent much of our childhood babysitting the entitled cutie who couldn’t seem to do humaning right. And he knew that. He saw my frustration. He couldn’t always tell why other people were upset with him, but he never really failed to know exactly how to press my buttons. He knew me, inside and out. Which is why he affected me so much more than anyone else.
Which is why no longer having him around—frustrations and all—felt like losing a part of myself.
“Liam?” I murmur as the light changes and he lifts his hand off my thigh.
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you believe I could be an author on my own?”
“You did become an author on your own.”
I swallow and close my eyes. “You know what I mean. Why didn’t you believe I could make it ?”
Air leaves him, and he hedges, “Because, Bambi, I watched you constantly. You thought so much of others, you’d regularly forget yourself. You’d chase dreams of acceptance while wearing imperfect masks. A career has to be sustainable. Being anything less than yourself isn’t a long-term solution in this field. That on top of the failure to secure a business mindset, and I knew you wouldn’t make it unless luck struck. I spent years hoping luck wouldn’t find you, so I could have you back.”
“That’s horrible,” I whisper.
“I know.” He has the decency to be soft. “I’m not a good person, Bambi. I’m very similar to the male lead you’re currently writing. His desire to own your main character in body, heart, and soul is very familiar. You…bring me peace. You make me feel right, even when you’re telling me something I’ve done is egregiously wrong. When I’m with you, I’m almost human.”
“Almost?” I ask.
A tiny smile touches his mouth. “Almost.”
“You’re always human, Liam. You’re just evil. Which is perhaps an exceptionally human thing to be.”
He exhales a laugh. “Thank…you?”
“Don’t mention it.” Against all better judgment, I say, “Now, what’s with all this Bambi stuff? My male lead never calls his little princess Bambi . I require more research, and we’re still in the middle of our very professional research date, aren’t we?”
“That we are, love. My mistake.”
I sniff. “How’s that for business mindset ?”
“It’s a good start.” He turns into a lavish restaurant parking lot, and pulls up to the valet. “We’ll see how far your commitment goes later.”
“Later?”
“Later.”
As he rolls his window down to talk to the parking attendant, I only know one thing for sure—I am not prepared for later .