Chapter 6
Despite what I let Oliver believe the morning after I gave Sebastian my virginity, when I woke up to an empty and cold bed, I have not, in fact, made myself come.
Not for lack of trying.
Between the promise I made to Liam all those months ago and Dr. Price’s therapeutic methods—which only seem to have conditioned me to reach that edge and not a step further—I haven’t been able to let go.
God, I want to let go.
As Oliver and I step into the elevator, it’s all I can think about. It doesn’t help that this space reminds me of Sebastian and how he took me on the floor, full of rawness and passion and heat.
Oliver keys a code into the sleek panel, unaware of the emotions swirling in my gut, and the car begins its short trip down the tower.
Three floors.
That’s all that’s left—two more months above ground zero.
Two more months until the auction, at which point Sebastian will be home.
A pang of hope rises in me at the thought, even as something deep inside sinks with the elevator, because the brooding man across from me has turned into a locked door I can’t get through.
Oliver leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, jaw wired tight, his gaze fixed on the descending numbers.
Distant…closed off.
He’s been like this since the cape.
We returned to Zodiac Island several days ago, but that moment in the rain came back with us. On the ride up, he positioned himself the way he’s standing now, with a careful gap between us.
And in my quarters, after he set my suitcase by the bed, he paused as if he meant to say something.
But he never did.
By the time I’d unpacked, he’d already shut himself in his office. At first, I assumed he had work to catch up on, but even busy men eat dinner. They sit across the table and stare with unnerving insight, nonchalantly sipping wine.
Busy men still find the time to haunt doorways at night.
So why did Oliver stop haunting mine?
And why do I feel like I did something wrong?
Sebastian is alive. I should not be upset that Oliver is suddenly ignoring me. Except…we fell into a routine that got me through the days and made the grief tolerable. Now that he’s taken that crutch away, I don’t know what to do with myself at bedtime.
This man, with his manipulative kinks and vulnerable chestnut eyes, has me all tangled up.
Something changed in Portland, and it wasn’t just me.
The elevator chimes at the ground floor, doors sliding open to let us out. Oliver falls into step beside me, and his silence is so loud it drowns out my heels on the marble.
I have only a few minutes left with him.
I’m not wasting them on silence.
The second we round the corner, I stop, plant my hands on my hips, and glare at him, days of hurt and confusion boiling over. “What is wrong with you?”
His steps falter. Slowly, he turns to face me, one hand dragging through his hair as if he’s the one with reason to be agitated. “Nothing.”
I bite my lip and breathe through the sting building behind my eyes. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a liar.”
He shakes his head. “If you wanted to argue, you should’ve started it when we had more time.”
I scoff. “When? At breakfast? Dinner? Should I have barged into your office and interrupted your work to ask why you went cold on me? You haven’t been yourself since we got back. Did I do something to upset you?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, lets out a breath, and starts down the hall.
“Oliver!” I call after him. “Will you just talk to me?”
“There’s nothing to say. Our time is up.”
The words land like a slap, and the ache I’ve carried for days turns to lead.
“Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep Hugo waiting, then.” I pick up my pace and blow past him, the library door in my sight, the threshold into a new month acting as my safety net.
I hate leaving things unresolved, and yet it won’t be the first time I’ve been pushed into the next house with my questions unanswered and the coming days unknown, forced to walk in behind a show of bravado.
Now is no different.
I’m blinking back my frustration when he grabs my wrist, whirls me around, and yanks me close.
The air goes still.
“This is what’s wrong,” he says, right before he kisses me.
It’s the kind of kiss one doesn’t just fall into. No, it’s the kind that builds up, then tears free like a repressed thought. Oliver shoves me against the wall, and his lips devour mine, both hands tangled in my hair.
And he whimpers.
Not a moan or a growl—the sound he makes borders on painful.
Then, as fast as he grabbed me, he pulls away.
I tug him back by his tie. “Why did you kiss me…like that? Why now?”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “I couldn’t let you go without you knowing…” He holds me by the nape, jaw clenched, as if he’s stopping himself from doing it again. “This is how I feel about you, and it’s driving me mad. One night a year will never be enough.”
I swallow hard at his confession, heat fluttering low in my belly. I tell myself it’s only my body acting up from weeks of delayed gratification and the humiliating fact that I can’t get myself off without a man watching.
It has nothing to do with all the things he made me feel this month, especially bound and edged for hours in his locked room.
Deep down, I know better.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“Nothing.” He lets me go. “I’ve been a dick, and it’s not fair to you. I apologize.”
He shoves off the wall, dark hair falling into his eyes as he nods toward the library. “You need to go in.”
Then he’s gone, his long strides carrying him down the corridor, leaving me staring after him with his confession still ringing in my ears.
Trying to gather my composure, I rake my fingers through my hair, coaxing the locks back into place. My exterior is the easy part, but whatever he cracked open inside me…
That’s more difficult to smooth down. Squaring my shoulders, I grip the door handle and ease it open.
But Hugo isn’t waiting for me.
Liam is.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. It’s not the first time I’ve walked into this room and found someone unexpected.
Liam turns from the window, his devastating smile brighter than the rare winter sun that catches the copper of his hair. He gestures to the small table beside him, where a chess game awaits like an argument we never finished.
“Are you up for a match?” He pulls out a chair before I can speak, as if the answer to his invitation is a foregone conclusion.
I glance around the room, brows pulling together. “Where’s Hugo?”
“Mr. Alexander allowed me some time with you this afternoon.” A half smirk plays on his lips—an expression so foreign it makes me do a double take. “Lucky for me,” he says, fingers pressing into the chair he’s holding for me, “he’s not nearly as possessive as the rest of us.”
Us.
Plural.
It’s a small concession but completely true. As I make my way to the table, I recall the last time I saw him.
The memorial.
I wish I could walk back that wayward thought, but it’s too late. The pain hits, swift and visceral, holding my heart in a vise grip, and for one instant, I forget Sebastian’s alive.
Because no matter the gift of my miracle, my body still remembers what it felt like to lose the love of my life.
I slide into the chair and blink away the tears, put the mask back in place, remind myself that he’s safe.
He’s coming back for me.
Liam takes his spot across from me at the table, his welcoming smile gone—as if he’s attuned to my emotions.
After everything we’ve been through, maybe he is.
“That day at the gazebo,” he starts, then clears the raspiness from his vocal cords, “I wanted to be there for you.”
“I know.” I run my palms down my thighs, smoothing imaginary wrinkles in my skirt. “I guess Oliver has kept me to himself this month, hasn’t he?”
“I can’t say I blame him.” It’s a soft admission, but underneath it lies what he won’t voice.
If given the chance, he’d do the same. In fact, he’s gone to great lengths, taken risks with real consequences, to have me to himself.
A familiar warmth blooms, and I can’t deny that this specific kind of ache has always been reserved for Liam. His unconditional, possessive love lives in my marrow.
“Are we going to play, or do you want to pass the time staring at each other?” I tilt my head with a challenge.
“I don’t mind the view, my sweet girl.” Fighting a grin, he points at the white chess pieces sitting in front of me, waiting like little soldiers facing off in a war. “Ladies first.”
I keep my face neutral and let my fingers hover above one pawn, then another, before finally stopping above the knight. I know exactly which piece I’m opening with, but I want to keep him guessing.
My gaze flicks up to meet his, and we both bluff our way through the stare.
Without breaking eye contact, I change directions and slide a pawn forward. The same pawn he always starts with. His mouth twitches as he mirrors it.
We play in silence for several minutes, sizing each other up with furtive glances. Then I offer up a pawn for him to capture.
“I’ve been thinking about your birthday,” he says, taking the bait.
I consider whether to sacrifice another. “You and Oliver both.”
“He asked you to choose him?”
“Not exactly. He implied he’d like to celebrate with me.”
“I want you to choose me.”
Instead of a pawn, I advance a rook, buying time. “Do I actually get a choice?”
“Yes.”
“So if I choose Oliver, or anyone else…you’ll be okay with that?”
“Hell no.” Shaking his head, he laughs, dark and self-mocking. “But I’ll accept it.”
He steals my rook, and I’m not sure if he realizes that by doing so, he’s left his queen vulnerable in two moves.
I study my options, pretending to decide.
His knee finds mine under the table. A beat later, his fingers slip beneath my chin and lift. “I miss you.”
If I’m honest, I haven’t had room to miss him. My grief took up every corner of my mind this month, with Oliver as a close second. Needless to say, my head’s been crowded.
But a pang of realization echoes through me now. Liam’s a master at stirring me, and the way he needs me, openly and unashamedly, reaches something I’ve spent a long time pretending isn’t there.
I lower my eyes, unable to face him, scared he’ll see the truth through the fractures in my facade. “I’m glad you’re here, and…thank you for pulling me back.”
Without him, I wouldn’t be here, and as soon as Sebastian returns, Liam’s heart will break all over again.
I don’t want to hurt him.
I want to love him.
You do. Admit it.
Another turn passes, and then the board breathes between us.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “On your birthday.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
Slowly, he withdraws his touch, thumb grazing my knuckles as he retreats. “The library isn’t the place for this conversation.”
A few weeks ago I’d have pushed for more, but I have a secret of my own, and it doesn’t seem fair to press him for his right now.
Besides, he makes me feel safe…even when he shouldn’t.
“I trust you, Liam.” I raise my eyes to his. “I’ll choose you.”
The relief on his face is surprisingly beautiful, especially coming from a man accustomed to getting what he wants.
We linger in the moment, the match on a short reprieve.
He takes his time, and when he finally commits, I’m sure he’s going to pull off a maneuver I can’t foresee—something that will give him the win—because he doesn’t lose at chess.
Not to me.
So when he pushes a bishop across the board, putting his queen on the line and giving mine all the power, I count the seconds to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
Then I take his most valuable piece.
His mouth forms an adorable frown.
I wait for him to discover a winning play, one I’m blind to…
Instead, he tips his king. “You’ve got me.”
“Do I really?”
“I think you know the answer to that, my sweet girl.”
Liam Castle never loses…
Except when it comes to his heart.