Taryn
Fuck him. Seriously. Just…fuck him. Or better yet, maybe I should stop fucking him. Obviously, too many orgasms this past week have interfered with my ability to suss out bullshit. God. I knew better than this.
There I was, practically skipping up the stairs to meet my new husband. I was humming. Happy. Jesus. I cringe when I think about my dumb self.
When I heard voices from Ryan’s room, I didn’t mean to listen.
Don’t misunderstand. I’m not above eavesdropping.
I hadn’t considered that I’d need to. That’s how stupid this man has made me.
But, then I heard it. Ryan imploring Liam not to lie to me.
I stopped in my tracks. Listened. They were talking about my fund.
About isolating my money. About me becoming dependent on Liam for everything.
Yeah. Fuck him. It’s not about control, my ass.
I’m so pissed as I speed walk to Elizabeth’s house that I pass her door, lost in my own internal rant, before I turn around and march back. I pound on her door so hard that her wreath comes off its hook. I’m bending down to pick it up when she opens the door a crack.
“Oh! Taryn!” She swings her door open farther. “Geez. I thought the FBI was here or something. Sounded like a raid.”
I don’t know if she’s serious. Given that we’re at St. A’s, this may very well have been part of her past experience. Of course, her dad is a senator, so maybe she’s kidding?
“Can I come in?”
“Oh, sorry! Yes, of course.” She moves out of my way to grant me entry.
I sweep past her and go straight to her refrigerator. Pull out a bottle of white wine.
“I need you to stop me from killing him.”
Elizabeth stands at her counter, watching me with wide eyes. “Who do you want to kill?”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “My new husband. My controlling, manipulative, lying new husband.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth wrings her hands. “Once you’ve poured the wine, do you want to start by explaining the controlling, the manipulating, or the lying?”
I smile at her. A genuine smile. “I told him I was staying the night here.”
“Um, okay,” Elizabeth says, her brows knitting like she’s trying to figure out if she should call a therapist or a lawyer on my behalf. “And does he know that you’re, uh, mad at him?”
I slam the wine bottle on the counter a little too hard. I’m only halfway through wrestling with the corkscrew. “Oh, I think he’ll figure it out when I don’t come home right away. Maybe when I stop sleeping with him too.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks go pink. “Oh wow. Um…that’s a…strategy.”
“Liz,” I snap at her sarcasm, then wince because she looks like I kicked her puppy.
“Sorry. But I can’t even think straight right now.
I heard him talking to Ryan—Ryan!—about my money.
My private bank account. About how I’m going to be ‘dependent on him for everything.’” I make air quotes with the corkscrew, nearly stabbing my own hand.
“He’s basically trying to make me into some kind of…
kept woman. A trophy wife with no say. Like hell. ”
Elizabeth steps forward, hands hovering as though she might confiscate the corkscrew for my own safety. “Maybe you…misheard? Liam seems very, well, devoted to you. He did marry you, after all.”
“Yeah, well, he also apparently decided I don’t get to control my own damn money.
Or life. Or brain. You know what he said to Ryan?
‘I can’t love her…not yet…it’s too soon.
’” The cork pops free, and I feel victorious for a whole half second before the words I just repeated hit me like a wrecking ball.
“Not yet. Not yet. As if I’m some kind of investment that might mature into someone worth loving. ”
Elizabeth’s mouth forms a tiny “o.”
“Well. That’s—” She fidgets. “That’s not very nice.”
I laugh, loud and a little crazy. “Not very nice? I’m furious. Furious. My blood pressure is so high right now, I can hear it.”
“Well,” she says gently, as if speaking to a feral animal, “you’re here now. Which is good. We can…decompress. Have some wine. Maybe talk it through, calmly, before you do anything drastic?”
I fill a glass and drink half of it in one go. “Oh, there’s nothing calm about what I’m going to do when I get home. If I even go home. Honestly, I might stay here all week. He can stew in his charming arrogance while I remember what it’s like to have my brain intact.”
Elizabeth tilts her head, her chestnut hair shining in the kitchen light. “I’m not sure Liam would ever hurt you intentionally. He’s not—”
“Not intentionally? Oh, good. That makes it so much better, doesn’t it?” I slam my glass down. “This is how it starts, Liz. I get all gooey because he’s charming and stupidly good-looking and so damn talented in bed. He does this thing with his tongue—”
“Taryn!” she squeaks, her hands flying to her ears like I’ve cursed in church.
“But that’s all a distraction, right? Because behind the smile, he’s pulling strings. He wants control, just like every other guy in the clan. Goddammit! I knew better than this.”
Elizabeth recovers enough to lower her hands, though her cheeks are still pink. “You sound hurt. Not just angry.”
I stop, my breath catching. Damn her. Sweet Elizabeth, seeing right through me with her soft voice and calm eyes. “Maybe I am. I thought…” I trail off, swallowing. “I thought maybe he felt something real for me. But apparently, I just fill a position in his life. I’m an obligation.”
Elizabeth steps closer and sets a delicate hand on my arm. “You’re not an obligation, Taryn. Not to me. And I don’t think you are to him either. Maybe he’s scared?”
I scoff. “Liam? Scared? That man’s biggest fear is running out of hair gel.”
Elizabeth giggles, a tiny sound like a bell, her whole face lighting up. “You don’t really believe that.”
I sigh and brush some flyaways out of my face. “No. Maybe I don’t. But I can’t stay there tonight, Liz. Not when I’m this mad. I’ll say something I can’t take back. I should probably grab a hotel room or something. I’m terrible company. I shouldn’t have barged in here like this.”
“No! You can absolutely stay here,” she says immediately. “Of course you can. I’ll make up the guest bed.”
“Or we can keep drinking until I pass out on your couch,” I mutter.
She smiles. “Whatever you need.”
My phone pings.
Liam: You make it to Elizabeth’s?
I scowl at the message.
Me: Yes.
Liam: Thanks for the thorough update, beauty. Everything okay?
Me: Elizabeth’s fine. I’m fine. We’re having wine.
There. He wants a report? He got one. I’m so fucking fine.
Liam: So…not fine.
Ugh. Why is he like this?
Me: Don’t start.
Liam: I’m not. Just checking in before my wife does something reckless.
Me: Funny. I didn’t realize marriage came with a probation officer.
Liam: It doesn’t. I just like knowing you’re safe. And not planning my execution.
Me: No promises.
Liam: Good. I wouldn’t believe you anyway.
Me: Leave me alone, Liam.
Liam: Can’t. You’re my wife. Something’s off. I can feel it.
Me: Maybe I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time.
Liam: Then maybe I’d like to know what you’re seeing.
Me: Not over text.
Liam: Then come home and say it to my face.
Me: Good night, Liam.
Liam: If you’re not back by tomorrow, I’m coming to get you. And I won’t knock.
“Liam?”
I look up from my phone. “What’s that?”
“I asked if you were texting Liam,” Elizabeth says softly, eyes kind.
I sigh and nod. “He wanted to make sure I made it here.”
She giggles, “Yeah. Sounds like a controlling jerk.”
I growl and she frowns.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snarl. He makes me crazy.”
Elizabeth refills my wineglass and then grabs hers before nodding to her hallway. “Let’s go sit in the living room. You can tell me all about it.”
So I do. I rant and rave. Detail all of my stupidity. The fund. The Greeks. Every word I heard Liam say. Elizabeth interrupts me a few times to ask for clarification or for me to repeat something. I guess my voice drops to a low growl when I’m pissed off.
“I think the Greeks are dangerous, Tare. My father doesn’t warn me about much, but he was very clear that he wants me to stay away from them,” Elizabeth shares.
“I thought your dad is a senator.” I understand that Elizabeth’s dad is involved in this world somehow, but I had no idea he’d be tuned into these specific mob politics.
“He is.” She nods. “But he works with The Family a lot. Even though they have some sort of deal with the Greeks right now, my dad warned me about them over winter break. Again. I think it’s their activities that scare him.
He’d love to stop them.” She’s referencing the trafficking.
I guess everyone knows about it. Why everyone isn’t trying to stop them is beyond me.
“Their business disgusts me,” I tell her before taking another gulp of wine.
She nods. “At least you know that your family isn’t involved in that. My dad works on a task force aimed at stopping such things. I think The Family helps some.”
I ponder that. “I didn’t think any other organizations would want to get involved.”
She shrugs. “I don’t really know. I used to be closer to it all, but not so much anymore. After high school, I quit going with my father to the Larozzi compound when he visits.”
“Didn’t want to see the twins?” I tease. I’m referring to Gráinne’s fiancé, Luca Larozzi, and his twin brother, Matteo.
“They didn’t want to see me,” she states flatly.
“What? Why?” I don’t like her tone. It’s got an edge of anger to it, which isn’t even a little like the Elizabeth I know and adore.