Chapter 17
REGAN
Idump the last box in the living room and rub a knuckle into my lower back. “I should’ve hired a moving company for this.”
“Ah, come on, it’s not so bad.” Luke flops onto the couch with a groan, rolling his neck. “No, scratch that, it’s terrible.”
I sit next to him and sigh. The place is chaos around us. Liam’s not here, which is a minor blessing, but did he really have to live so high up?
Thank God there’s an elevator at least. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now.
“Mom sent this for you, by the way.” Luke opens his wallet and flicks a pre-paid Visa card at me.
“Money? Seriously?”
“She said it’s to help you get started.” He stretches his legs. “You know Mom. That’s basically like hugging you and telling you she loves you.”
I slip the card into my pocket because, I mean, free money, I’m not an idiot. “I would’ve preferred the hug.”
“Wrong family then.”
“Seriously, is she okay? I haven’t seen her since the wedding a few days ago.”
“Fine as far as I know. I think what happened really pissed her off though. I haven’t seen her and Dad in the same room.”
“You know what’s crazy? She didn’t want this marriage thing, but she’s such a psycho that she was going to make the wedding perfect anyway. I mean, God forbid we do anything and it’s not to her lofty standards.”
“That’s how she copes.”
I sit back and frown at him. “Copes? Are you actually saying something insightful right now?”
“Hilarious. I’m a student of the human condition, and I can tell you, Mom’s condition is pretty obvious. She’s been living with Dad for most of her life at this point.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He looks at me sideways. “There are benefits to our way of life. And some serious drawbacks.”
“Why get more involved with it then?”
“Who said anything about that?”
“Come on, don’t act like I’m an idiot.” My heart’s racing and I have to try hard not to show my anxiety.
I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with him for a long time now, and the opportunity is here.
I don’t want to screw it up by seeming overeager.
“I know you’ve been more and more involved with Dad’s side of the family business. I mean, I see it, you know?”
He’s looking down at his hands and seems thoughtful. “You’re lucky in a lot of ways. Dad’s been easy on you.”
“Easy on me?” I laugh bitterly and nudge him with my elbow, gesturing around us. “I married a stranger. I’m living in a stranger’s apartment. You think this is easy?”
“No, I don’t, but imagine doing this… all day… for most of your life.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together. “It’s fine. Forget it.”
“Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Dad’s expectations. That’s all. Someone’s got to take over the business one day and it sure as hell won’t be you, which leaves me. And who said I want it? Who ever said I needed this shit in my life?”
“Luke…”
“No, it’s fine. The truth is, I like where I’m at. I like the life and the family. It’s hard sometimes, that’s all.”
“You don’t have to do it, you know. Dad doesn’t own you.”
He looks back at me sadly. “Like he doesn’t own you?”
I want to argue, but he’s got a point. I pull my knees up, feeling deflated, because the truth is even worse than I realized. When it was Luke getting in trouble, that made a kind of sense. I felt like I could talk him out of it, convince him to back off for his own good.
But if Luke’s falling deeper into the family business because of Dad’s pressure…
I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to pretend like I’d do anything differently.
“I’m here for you, you know.”
He stands with a grunt. “Don’t worry about me. You’re the one stuck with Liam Lankshear.” He tries to smile but there’s no joy in it. “Seriously though, if you ever need anything, if Liam’s less than a perfect gentleman—“
“You’ll be my first call.”
“Make sure I am. I mean it too, Regan. I know the Whelans would never willingly put you in a bad spot, but Lankshear’s got a reputation.”
I glance back toward the bedroom and the memory of his arms wrapped around my body floods back. His warmth, his comfort, the way he didn’t speak but let his body do the work.
“Yeah, I’ve heard about it.”
“Be careful, that’s all.” Luke heads over to the refrigerator, grabs a beer, cracks it open, and drinks it down. “I’m sure your husband won’t mind, right?”
“That was mine.”
He laughs, genuinely this time, and waves before he leaves me alone.
I sit surrounded by the mess of my life and sink into my thoughts.
Luke’s as trapped as I am. I should’ve seen it sooner.
The realization breaks my heart. I failed him so thoroughly, so horribly, that I didn’t even notice until he spelled it out for me.
I couldn’t protect him from Dad, and I sure as hell can’t protect him from the Whelans and the Russians.
I shiver, and I feel like I can taste blood on my tongue again.
I spend the day unpacking. My husband is nowhere to be found.
Which is normal, it turns out. Liam doesn’t seem to sleep much.
He comes and goes as he pleases and has been distant since that night.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. In some ways, this is the marriage I hoped for: he leaves me alone and I don’t bother with him.
We get on with our lives, existing like roommates who shared one (okay, two) intimate moments, but nothing more.
It nags at me though. I wish he were around more.
I want to talk to him about what happened, to understand who those men were and what they wanted, and most of all, to find out whether it’ll happen again or not.
I think they had something to do with Kieren and the Russians, only I can’t say for sure, because Liam’s not around to tell me.
Eventually I’m tired and frustrated. I decide to call it for the evening and head out to get some groceries. The apartment is pathetic when it comes to food. I’m not sure how Liam survives on beer and cheese while still retaining his impressive physique.
Bastard probably has perfect genes.
I make it to the lobby before I’m stopped. He appears out of nowhere, swooping in through the front door, eyes scanning the space and stopping on me, brows knitting. He comes straight over and grabs me by the arm.
“What are you doing down here?” Liam says, an edge to his voice. His eyes are cold and quiet. If there was anything warm and good between us that night after the wedding, it’s sure as hell gone now.
“Uh, first of all, get the hell off me.” I shake myself loose. “And second, I’m going to the store. You realize you have no food in the house, right?"
“Get delivery.”
“No, I want to cook.”
“Nobody wants to cook. Food is fuel. Order something.”
“Actually, cooking takes my mind off all the other crap in my life—“ I gesture at him emphatically. “Now stop being a prick.”
He glares at me. I glare right back. I have no idea why we’re having a fight about grocery shopping like this is somehow against an unspoken rule. After a few beats, he grunts and steps aside.
“Let’s make this fast.”
I walk past and he falls in beside me. “Sorry, I don’t think you were invited.”
“I’m escorting my wife.”
“You’re annoying her even more.”
“It’s not safe out there, Regan.” His eyes burn death into me. I taste metal and smell smoke. “Don’t fight me on this.”
“You can’t keep using the shooting as an excuse to be a controlling bastard forever.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do.”
Damn it, this is frustrating. I could stand here and make a scene, but that won’t get me anywhere, and I'm getting hungry. With no better options, I decide my best bet is to pretend like Liam’s not here at all.
He’s my annoying ghost. I walk a few blocks to a high-end grocery chain. Everything’s organic, fancy, and stupidly overpriced. I grab a cart and try to hum to myself as I stride through the store, but Liam’s always there, one step behind me.
And I notice the heads turning immediately.
A younger woman near the lettuce does a double-take when Liam leans past her to grab a head of romaine for me. An older woman checking peaches nearly drops one, her mouth hanging open, when Liam stretches his back. Another woman grips a banana with both hands, squeezing it hard.
It’s not only the women. Half the men in the store gape at him like he’s some kind of apparition from another world. Liam’s either good at ignoring it or isn’t aware of the effect he has on the people around him, but either way, it’s irritating.
“Do you really have to follow me around?” I hiss at him as I head to the pasta aisle.
“Believe me love, I’d rather be doing almost anything else.”
“What have you been doing lately, anyway? You’ve barely been around.”
“Little of this, little of that.”
“Shady.”
“Yes, love, I know.” He picks up an apple and weighs it in his hand, rubbing it slowly. “Nice and firm.”
A woman nearby almost faints. She leans on her cart and has to hurry away.
“Would you stop that?”
“Sorry, love, are you more of a pear girl?” His eyes roam my body. “Yes, I’d say that’s the right shape.”
“You’re gross.”
He lifts an orange and slowly strokes it. “Gross? Are you sure?”
“Stop it!”
An old woman’s jaw is hanging open.
I swear to god, this man looks like a sexual god, and all he’s doing is casually stroking fruit.
Liam snickers and puts the orange back as I hurry away. He stays close, fingers brushing over packages as we go. My heart’s racing and my skin’s flushed, and I’m starting to feel like those shocked and horny housewives back in produce. What the hell is wrong with me?
And is he really doing this on purpose now?
“How do these look?” Liam lifts a package of fancy linguine, gripping it with both hands. “Bronze cut. Nice and big.” His brows lift. “You like this size, don’t you?”
“Stop. Now. Please.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re more of a spaghetti girl.” He bends closer, voice dropping. “You like it thick.”
“Liam!”
He drops the linguine in the cart. “Thick and long.” He strokes his hands up the package nice and slow. Which obviously makes me think about him stroking his package…
“Please let me shop in peace.”
“Whatever you want, love, and I really mean that. Anything you want.”
A stock girl refilling the shelves nearby chokes, her cheeks bright red, and has to scurry off. I catch her muttering to herself, oh my god that’s the hottest man I’ve ever seen… before she turns the corner.
I’m mortified. This is straight up hell. I do my best to hurry but now Liam knows what he’s doing and he’s having fun. Everything turns into sexual innuendo, to the point that I want to scream.
More than one woman looks like she’s going to have a heart attack.
Several men leer openly and I’m pretty sure one raises his phone and snaps a photo of Liam growling like a bear as he paws at a chicken breast.
By the time I’m bagged and paid, Liam’s cackling with delight. He shoots a wink at the cashier girl and she practically melts under his attention.
My cheeks are burning. I grab his arm tightly, fingers digging into his ropey muscle. “Enough, please, or did you forget that you’re married?”
“Regan, love, are you jealous?”
“Not even remotely. More like embarrassed.”
“My god, you’re jealous. You’re burning with it right now.”
“Go to hell. Seriously, what was that back there? Do you enjoy making me feel like an idiot?”
“I enjoy flirting with you, that’s for sure.”
I scoff and shove his shoulder. “That was flirting? You’re terrible.”
“I’m fantastic. Pretty sure that old lady near the peaches had an orgasm.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“Don’t be jealous.”
“I’m not!” I pause, seething, and catch my breath. I hold his gaze with deep, ugly loathing, but that anger’s mostly directed at myself.
Because despite how annoying he’s being, I’m desperately turned on.
To the point where if he touched me, I’m pretty sure I’d explode on the spot.
His gaze is knowing and infuriating. “You okay, baby?”
“Stop calling me that. Actually, stop calling me love too, okay?” I shove my way into the apartment building.
He catches up and takes some of the bags from me. “I like the nicknames.”
“I hate them. And you’re a prick, you know that?”
“Regan—“
“No, I’m serious. You disappear for a few days after our wedding and you only come back to make my first public shopping trip since the shooting feel like a walk of shame. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but get over it.”
He doesn’t respond. I storm off to the elevator, jab the button, and stand to wait. He lingers a few feet behind, giving me space. I want to whirl around and keep on shouting at him, but what will that solve?
I’m not even that mad at him.
The grocery store was immature and annoying, but I don’t think he was doing any of that to upset me.
The elevator shows up and we get on. He hefts the bags, leaning against the railing. I focus on the numbers and do my best to pretend like he isn’t there. I’m in frustrated agony until we reach our floor, but he jams his thumb against the door close button.
“What are you doing? Let go of that.”
He doesn’t look at me. His eyes stay on the door. “I know I haven’t been around much. I want you to know that I’ve been out dealing with business.”
Butterflies fill my stomach. “I don’t need to know.”
“Maybe you do. Maybe Finn’s right and my place is at home with you.”
“No Liam, seriously, it’s fine.”
“I’m doing what I can. I want you to understand that.”
“Okay. Really, it’s fine.” My face is hot. He looks back at me and the hungry intensity in his stare sets my body alight.
He releases the button and the door slides open.
But none of the tension eases.