Chapter Twenty-Eight
? ? ?
Time for a third-act break up! Wait, no. That’s stupid.
Amber
I feel majestically out of place, like a common doll in a castle set.
Everything here glitters, pinks and whites, and I…I am garbed in drops of ink stained with blood.
My eyes close as Liam’s hand settles against my tattoo, fingers teasing the bare skin as he guides me forward from the foyer into the palace of lights and hors d’oeuvres, which—for the record—I still need to look up how to spell. I feel like I shouldn’t be here unless my childhood consisted of flash cards with the fancy way to say appetizers plastered across them.
Yet, here I am.
And, of course, I know Liam’s childhood wasn’t all this glitz and glam, either.
Yet, here he is.
With all the confidence of a night sky escorting the moon.
His lips lower to my ear, and a shiver cuts through me as he utters a curse. “Can I pledge a million dollars to the charity, then get you back in the limo?” His thumb traces the feathers of my wings. “I am not going to make it through tonight.”
“Neither am I if you talk like that, Cutie,” I whisper, breathless.
The edge of his smile catches me off guard before he kisses my cheek. “I am…thrilled you’ve decided to come with me tonight, Bambi.” Heat fills his eyes, and he repeats, “Thrilled.”
What can I say?
The evil has thoroughly grown on me.
And, since Tuesday when I crawled into his bed, I’ve become dependent on his arms to sleep.
Liam gets show, don’t tell . The fact I’m here after a week of all-night cuddling means something he understands. This is me, walking into an event as adorable as his bedroom, and accepting that I’m his wife.
At this point, I just hope I don’t throw up.
“William?” a chipper voice interrupts my panic, and I turn to find a flouncy pink dress clutching a young woman with a sweet blonde bob. She squeals, clapping her hands together. “You made it!” Her arms are around Liam before I remind myself to smile. “I’m so glad!” She kisses his cheek, smudging rose pink gloss. “Oh,” she tuts, smudging it worse with her thumb. “Hold on.”
I do not want to hold on.
“Strawberry?” Liam mutters.
The woman beams , adorably. She is adorable. And in pink. And. Wow. Are those. Am I? Is this insecurity rearing?
Who is this chick? How does she know Liam? Why is she hugging and kissing him out of the blue? Mm. Yeah. Don’t like that. Listen, lady, I’ve only just decided this man is my husband, so you better back off before I do something drastic .
“Strawberry flavor lip gloss!” She rocks on her cute white-with-pink-bow shoes, laces her fingers behind her back, and twists, eyes elevated. “Do you like it?”
“I prefer cherry.”
I maintain composure. Cherry. Exactly. Good boy, Cutie.
“ Black cherry.” Liam scrubs his cheek while the woman’s lashes flutter, bemused.
“O-oh.”
“I didn’t know you’d be here, Anneliese.”
Anneliese.
Like.
Barbie Princess and the Pauper Anneliese? The main character of Liam’s favorite Barbie movie Anneliese ?
Anneliese bolsters, beaming anew. “Daddy said I had to come because it’d look good on the family. Can you believe it? I just hate appearances.” Her lip pouts. “Just throw some money at the poor, sad children and be done with it. It can’t be worth this much time.”
“The time results in news coverage, which results in public donations.”
Her laughter chimes like bells. “I know . So unethical to scam the middle class into also donating while we all spend thousands on the party itself. I could have sworn charity season was two months ago.” She sighs, suddenly coming aware of my existence. “Oh. My.” Her eyes dart down my dress, back up. “Hello. I’m sorry. I don’t recognize you.” Her hand extends, limp as a gloved noodle. “Anneliese Daughtry. Do you have business with my Willy?”
I am uncertain whether I keep the disgust off my face. First, Willy ? Willy. Will- Y ? She has got to be joking. The only Willy I know is a fisherman in a game called Stardew Valley . Liam has never, and will never , go by a fisherman name. It’s just not cute. Second, hers ? Her “Willy”?
Nu-uh. I don’t think so.
Why, pray tell, was this gown not fashioned with a hidden sheath for my dagger? Major oversight, Liam.
While I’m contemplating murders, Liam steps in to say, “Amber, this is Anneliese, the daughter of a business associate.”
Anneliese laughs and swats his arm. “ Please . Don’t be so formal. We’re friends , aren’t we? And, briefly, we were even—”
“ Anneliese , this is my wife .”
Words I’m pretty sure I can fill in for myself shatter before they reach the woman’s lips, which gape, parting, to close, as her lashes flutter around bright blue eyes. Those eyes trace me deeper this time, scouring. “Well,” she says, bubbly voice soft. “I suppose you have a type.” She swallows. “Excuse me.”
Her dress flounces as she flees from us, and the resulting silence disguised beneath the event music and refined chatter suffocates.
Liam—no longer warm, no longer tracing my tattoo—finds me, every muscle in him stiff.
I watch the anxiety build.
Then, it snaps.
He grabs my hand, and I trip as he plunges us through the crowds, toward a back door, and into a vacant hall.
Before I can catch my breath, my back’s cemented to the wall, and his hand slams beside my head. Breath fills his lungs, and his mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I clear my throat. “Are you…okay, Cutie?”
His head shakes. “I can explain.”
“Explain…what, exactly?”
“That. Anneliese. Our…” His nostrils flare. “ Involvement .” Frantic, he lifts a shaking finger to my cheek, caresses. “It was a terrible decision to trust her. It barely went anywhere, barely lasted a week. Years ago. I…I missed you. I was reeling from the business taking off. Suddenly, there was all this money, all these people, and she approached me, and she reminded me of you, and she offered to help me adjust. I didn’t know what was happening when she came onto me, but I knew— I knew I was already married. So I stopped it at an unwanted kiss, and I promise, that’s all that happened.”
I blink. “She kissed you?”
Liam’s eyes blacken before they close. “I didn’t want her to. I didn’t ask her to. I never thought I could replace you. She didn’t act like you. She wasn’t meant to be you . I just thought she’d help me figure out this unfamiliar world, like you always did.”
Lifting my hand, I set a dark strand of his hair back, off his forehead, and murmur, “The cute ones do tend to be a little vicious. You don’t realize they’re evil until it’s too late.”
“She’s not evil . She’s just entitled, and…” Liam watches my hand lower. “And…you’re not talking about her. You…aren’t upset?”
“Why would I be upset with you? You introduced me to an heiress , but started the introductions with me. That’s basic respect etiquette. Unless I’m mistaken, that means you fancy I hold a higher social rank than her.”
“Of course you hold a higher social rank than her. You’re my wife.”
I smile. “Yeah. I’m your wife, and you’re a stickler for rules, so no matter what happened once upon a time, I don’t need to worry about it. You didn’t marry her, and I already know if she thinks you tried to replace her memory with me…she’d have to have met you in preschool to precede me.”
“I never went to preschool,” Liam murmurs.
Stretching in my heels, I kiss Liam’s cheek. “Exactly. Does she know that? I doubt it.” I giggle. “Silly. What did you expect was gonna happen here? Exactly how many of my books even contain a third-act break up?”
“Zero.” He swallows. “But, in my defense, you wanted divorce papers weeks ago. We had a much sooner than third-act break up.”
I hum. “How off brand of me. I’ll work on that.”
His forehead drops against my shoulder, and a shock zips up my spine when his face turns and his lips collide with my neck. Squeaking, I grip him. “Liam. We’re at a fancy event. A ball . Anyone could—”
“Let anyone see.” He kisses again, nuzzling. “I’ve had exactly zero scandals since becoming a billionaire. I think I’m due at least one. Let the headlines read: Man, this guy really loves his wife. ”
My spine straightens, and my breath hitches. “L-Liam.”
“Mm?” He licks, then he catches me, because my knees give out. Voice low and hypnotic, he murmurs, “What, Bambi?”
“You…just…” I swallow. “…said love .”
“Right. I’ll tell the reporters it’s not what it looks like when they come scouring for an interview. Don’t worry.” He nips at my jaw. “I’ll make sure they work an obsess in there instead. An adore . Something helpless and hopeless. Devout. No love stuff.”
“Or.” I grip his hair. “You could also just love me.”
He draws back, leaving me cold, wanting, plastered against the wall in a strange place where any number of important strangers could see me dissolving at Liam’s touch.
Swiping my trembling lip with his thumb, Liam tilts his head.
“What?” I snap. “You don’t want to? I thought you said you’d learn if I wanted you to.”
Tone ambiguous, he asks, “Do you want me to?”
“Do you want to?”
His gaze drifts, and for a fragile moment, I fear I’ve gotten everything wrong. He sighs, covers his mouth with his hand, and blushes cherry red beneath his fingers. Refusing to look at me, he whispers, “M-may I?”
“May you…love me?”
He nods.
“Is…love something you can turn off and on?”
“It’s something you choose, isn’t it? Love is a decision. I don’t want to impose my affections upon you if that’s not something you want to deal with. The obsession and adoration I feel for you alone are often so violent I have to hold myself back. I don’t know what allowing me to love you will do.”
Since when is love of all things a burden?
“Liam?” I reach for him, in the midst of distant romantic songs, superficial chatter, and clinking glasses. My fingers latch around his wrist and draw his hand from his face. “May I love you?”
His wide eyes hit me.
“…is what I would ask. If I were more polite, or less beguiled. But you have bewitched me with your cuteness, and I am very much a lost cause at this point. I love you. Tremendously. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself. Please…love me, too.”
“I love you,” he blurts. Sucking in a breath, he frames my face with his hands and exhales, “I love you, Bambi. I love you. I love you . So much.” He kisses my cheek. My lips. My nose. Uttering and uttering the words like they’re bursting from him. “I love you.” His lips lock with mine, deep, consuming, devouring .
My eyes roll back, and I really hope no one interrupts us, because the next thing I know, I’ve slipped to the floor, and Liam is kneeling in the blood-red rivers of my gown—stealing the very air from my lungs. I clutch his back, half propped against the wall. His fingers sink into my curls, then his gasp stops the kiss. “Sorry,” he breathes, untwines. “Sorry.”
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Your hair.” His voice is gravel, rough and raw. “Took you hours. So cute.”
I dig my nails into him, halting his retreat. “Liam,” I say, “ruin me.” I lift myself to his mouth, kiss. “We’ll drop a million and dart out the back. Then you can take me home, and if anyone asks what happened to you tonight, you can tell them you were with your wife.”
Heat sparks in his eyes as he mouths my wife . The daze releases him as he scans me. “Your dress.” He scrambles.
I grab his tie. It chokes him, and he gags, and I smile. “Liam,” I soothe, sweetly, “muss my curls and wrinkle my dress right now. Or else.”
“Or else what?” he bears the audacity with which to say.
“I walk .”
His eyes harden. “So cute. How do you expect to walk when your legs stopped working minutes ago?”
I sniff, indignant. “I will figure it out.”
He pulls fully away, removing my hands from him. Then, he scoops me up in his arms, princess style. “Problem,” he states as I rock comfortably against his broad chest.
Fluttery, I stare at him. “What problem?”
“Your cloak. It’s at the front. Also, I don’t know how to get to a backdoor in this place.” His chest fills with air. “What I’m about to suggest is extremely selfish.”
“Are you going to walk me through the center of a ballroom crawling with upper class and a slew of reporters while carrying me princess-style?”
He stares at me. “Not without permission.”
“That sounds like extremely philanthropic publicity for this charity event.”
His brows rise, but he is smiling. “Amber. Are you condoning playing an explicit role in the scamming of the middle class?”
Snuggling in, I pout. “I’ll donate my entire week’s allowance.”
“Wow. So generous.”
“Of twenty-thousand dollars.”
“Done.” Turning on his heel, Liam sweeps me into the ballroom and marches us through the throngs as though I’ve never feared perception before in my life.