Chapter 9
LIAM
Suits everywhere. Black suits, blue suits, lady suits too. Everyone’s so damn polished and clean it's like I’m living in a pamphlet for some kind of erectile dysfunction pill or something.
Downtown Manhattan isn’t my scene.
I watch the front door of a massive office tower, doing my best to seem inconspicuous. I’m aware the front desk security is keeping an eye on me too, not that I can blame them. I look like gutter trash compared to the nice business people streaming in and out of this place.
This isn’t my world. I belong blocks from here, in the alleys and on the corners, in the back rooms of bodegas and beside the sticky stage of strip clubs. That’s where my deals get done over glasses of cheap whisky, cigarettes, and spent bullet casings.
But I can handle some discomfort.
I almost miss her in the rush. When six rolls around it’s like the whole tower empties all at once.
Hundreds of people storm past, all of them rushing to the train, hurrying down the block, trying to get anywhere but fucking here, and who could blame them.
Problem is they all look the same, in the same colors, same pants, same freaking backpacks and haircuts.
She’s drowning in a sea of same, but even still I spot her, like an island in the middle of the ocean.
Regan doesn’t notice as I fall in beside her. Not at first. Her gaze is fixed straight ahead, expression glassy and distracted, as she angles toward the train. I finally say her name over the rumbling noise of the crowd and she flinches as if I tried to hit her.
She comes to an abrupt stop in a flow of people. A man in a suit has to sidestep to avoid smashing into her and a woman with a phone held to her face curses. More business folks are forced around, none of them happy about it. Regan’s face pales.
“You,” she says.
“Me,” I answer, mildly surprised by her reaction. I didn’t realize I left such a deep impression on her, but I should’ve known. We did have some fantastic sex.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes dart around, near to panicking, which doesn’t make a ton of sense.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She pulls back. “Leave me alone.”
“What’s the matter?”
“My dad—“ She stops herself, biting back whatever she was about to say.
But I know.
God damn it, she knows.
“I wanted to talk to you first,” I start saying, but she’s already hurrying away, bag clutched to her chest like it’s a life vest. I stride after, keeping pace. “Just hold on.”
“I don’t want to see you right now.” She doesn’t look back, just ploughs forward, head down. “Leave me alone, Liam.”
“Hold on.” I grab her wrist and pull her back, stepping sideways to get out of the main clot of people trying to jam their way down the subway steps.
She yelps and whirls. “Get your hands off me.”
“Just listen, damn it. I can explain. It wasn’t—“
She wrenches, but I hold tight. Her lips are pulled back in a snarl. “Get your hands—“
“Hey, you okay?” A guy in a vest over a button-down dress shirt slows. His brow furrows and he takes out an earbud. “You need some help?”
I hold his gaze. “If you’re as smart as you probably think you are, I’d start walking.”
His face pales and his eyes dart to Regan.
“I’m fine,” she hisses at him. “Just leave me alone.” She rounds on me. “Both of you.”
The finance bro shakes his head and walks away. He probably had some fantasy about helping a damsel in distress, but when he got one look at an actual monster, decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
Fucking coward. I would’ve beaten him to death right here in the street, but at least I would’ve respected him.
“Come have dinner with me. I’ll explain myself. We can talk, Regan, and be reasonable about this.”
“Reasonable?! Talk?!” She laughs maniacally. “Are you out of your mind? Just leave me alone, okay?”
“We’re going to get married,” I say quickly, pulling her close. I breathe her smell and a thrill claws into my chest. Fuck, she hates me so much right now, but all I can think about is crushing her lips with my own. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I know,” she says harshly. “You arrogant asshole.”
“One meal. That’s all I’m asking. You still want to treat me like this is my fault afterward, then fine, you can blame me all you want.
But we’re still getting married and we might as well start dealing with it now.
So please, would you have dinner with me?
” I draw her closer, struggling against a wave of adrenaline. “We can call it our second date.”
Her expression turns appalled. God, I love that. “Second date? I didn’t know we had a first.”
“Nothing brings a couple together like arson.”
“You’re delusional, you know that?”
“I’m sure there’s a psychologist out there getting hard thinking about all my diagnoses. Have dinner with me.”
Her lips twitch. It’s not exactly a smile, more like a grudging scowl, and she casts a longing glance over her shoulder toward the subway stairs. But eventually she nods. “When we’re done, we’re not doing this again.”
“Doing what?”
“This.” She gestures between us. “We’re going to meet for the first time when my father arranges it. As far as I’m concerned, we’re strangers. Do you understand?”
“I love roleplay. Will you spank me too?”
“How about I put on heels and crush your balls?”
“Oh baby, don’t tease me. I’m trembling.”
“Sick fuck. Where are we going?”
“Right this way, my darling wife.” I release her wrist and start walking. I don’t look back because I know she’s following. Regan’s a lot of things, but she isn’t stupid.
We really do need to talk.
I take her a few blocks south to a seedier, less touristy block.
A small Greek diner is tucked in the corner of an old crumbling brick building.
Inside is relatively clean, though very outdated; the place is beginning to fill up, but I grab a booth in the corner.
Regan slips onto the seat across from me reluctantly, placing her bag beside her.
The waitress comes over with coffee and practically drops it on the table. Some slurps over the rim. “You’re back. Great.” She puts a hand on her hip. “What do you want, Liam?”
“Hey, Hal, you look great.” I beam at her joyously. “I was thinking the usual.”
“Great, a bowl of Italian Wedding soup with some extra spit.” She cuts her eyes to Regan. “You with this idiot?”
“Um, unfortunately,” she says, bemused.
“Good luck with that. Want anything to eat? Spit free, I promise.”
“Just coffee, thanks.”
Hal storms off. I watch her go trying not to squirm with giddiness. God, I love it when people remember me.
“What’d you do to her?” Regan asks.
“Got in a fight one night when she was on duty.” I raise my eyebrows. “There was a lot of blood. It was fun.”
She rubs the bridge of her nose. “Are you always like this?”
“Charming? Yes.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but smartly decides not to. Instead, she takes out her phone and sets a ten minute timer. “When this goes off, I’m out of here, so you better start talking.” She sits back with her arms crossed.
Where the hell do I even begin? Hal returns with more coffee, which gives me a moment to think. When we’re alone again, I put my hands on the table, palms-up, in a gesture of peace.
“This wasn’t my decision,” I say, then grimace. “Well, not all my decision, anyway.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I was technically given the option—“
“I fucking knew it.” She almost knocks over her mug as she gestures wildly at me. “You knew the whole time, didn’t you?! And you didn’t say a word about it before you—“
“Regan, I swear, that first night I had no idea.”
She hesitates but only for long enough to process.
Then she looks even more pissed.
“But you knew the second time! You bastard! You could’ve warned me, but you didn’t. Instead, you let me… you let me…” Her cheeks turn bright red and she squirms in her seat.
“I let you fuck me? I let you get off? Enjoy yourself? Have some fun for once in your life?”
“You’re sick.”
“Probably, but listen to me, okay? I told him no. I told him I wouldn’t do it.”
She lifts her coffee and takes a sip. Her hands tremble. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I briefly tell her about my meeting with Finn. “In the end, I turned him down. I thought that was over. Then you showed up on my doorstep.”
Her eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say?”
“I thought it was over. I told myself it wasn’t happening, so what did it matter if we slept together one more time? Besides, your piece of shit ex-boyfriend is still a problem, and I figured keeping you close would be good for everyone. I could keep an eye on you.”
“Why the hell would you need to do that?”
“Because the Baranovs are serious people, love.” I soften my tone and try to get her to understand how I’m not joking around right now. That’s not easy for me. Doesn’t come natural, but I try anyway. “And you could be in their crosshairs for all I know.”
“What’s that have to do with you… sleeping with me… and our… arrangement?” She chokes the words out like she’s fighting herself.
“I wasn’t going to do it, but then I realized something. It was when you left that morning. Hit me like a kick in the teeth, and trust me, I know how that feels.”
“Good.”
“It struck me, you were going to marry someone else. If it wasn’t going to be me, it was going to be another random fucking guy from the clan. Do you know how many assholes work for the Whelans?”
“I’m aware of at least one.”
“It’s a lot, love, and most of them…” I trail off, trying to find a reasonable way of making her understand. “They don’t have realistic ideas about gender relationships.”
She laughs at that, head tipping back. There’s a hysterical note to her and I try to ignore it. “Are you trying to tell me you’re doing this to save me? Liam, that’s the stupidest shit you’ve ever said.”
I bite back my temper. It flares and I have to look away to steady myself. Luckily, Hal returns with my soup. She places it down, letting some sploosh onto the seat between my legs. She doesn’t even apologize as she storms off.
I clean it up and eat some.
Regan watches, nose wrinkled. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t actually spit in it. Want a bite?”
“No thanks, I’m good.” She drinks more coffee and checks the time. “I’m out of here in four minutes. You were telling me how you’re some kind of progressive ally of women’s rights?”
God damn it, this girl isn’t going to give me an inch.
I let out a breath and fix her with a hard look.
“I won’t beat you. I won’t shout at you.
I won’t insult you or expect anything of you.
Hell, I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for a damn thing except for common courtesy.
Beyond that, we can make this work. You do your thing, I do mine.
That’s the best deal you’ll get from this, and I have a feeling you know it. ”
She shuffles uncomfortably and turns her face toward the wall, and I keep thinking, how long can I uphold this deal? How long before I’m in her room, touching her, kissing her, or at least lying in my bed dreaming about how good it feels to sink deep between her legs?
I make it a point to be honest.
But am I fucking lying to both of us right now?
“What do I get out of all this?” she says almost to herself. She rubs her face and meets my eyes. “You know what? Never mind.”
“Never mind what?”
“This conversation. Pretend like it never happened.”
“Wait a second.” She slips out of the booth.
I reach for her, but she steps out of the way.
I don’t know where I went wrong, how I fucked this up, but a part of me wonders if she can see through my bullshit.
If she knows I’m twisting myself into knots trying to act like I really can stop myself from touching her all the damn time.
“Promise me something.” She pauses a few feet away. The room’s empty except for her. My eyes travel down her legs, over her hips, and up to her hair, the way it cascades down her shoulders. I remember the feeling of it, silky in my fist.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Swear you won’t kill Kieren.”
I rock back in surprise. After what we did together, I had assumed she didn’t care about that boy anymore.
Except normal people can dislike someone, but still not want them to get murdered. I forget that sometimes.
“I’m not sure that’s a promise I can keep.”
She doesn’t like my answer, but it’s the truth. Her grimace suggests this is a hard line for her. “Kieren’s an asshole. He deserved to get his car burned up, but beyond that…” She trails off uncertainly.
“The decision is out of my hands.”
“That’s a great excuse.”
“But it’s the truth and you know it. I’m not the one making those calls.”
“Then convince the men who are to spare him.”
“If that’s what you need, then I’ll try.” She starts to shake her head, but I speak over her. “That’s the best I can do, love. I’ll push back for him, and they might even listen to me, but if word comes down that Kieren’s got to die, then I won’t hesitate.”
Her face tightens into a pained lump before she turns her back on me. “Fine. Good enough.”
“What’s that mean? We’re doing this?”
“It means the next time you see me, you’ll pretend like we’ve never met before. And after that—“ Her hair sways against her back and she walks away.
I watch her go, chest thrumming. God, I could almost laugh. What a fantastic girl.
And she hates me now.
Not that I can blame her. When she looks at me, she sees her own prison sentence. I’m hoping that she comes around with time, but I can’t force her to like me, let alone want to be my wife.
“Broke another heart, Liam?” Hal returns to refill my coffee cup.
“Not yet. Working on it though.”
She gives me a hard look which quickly softens. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“You love it though.” I take a bite of the soup and let out a mock-groan. “Your spit is delicious as always.”
She rolls her eyes, but her mouth curves as she walks away.