Chapter 7 Aurora
AURORA
“You’ll have to forgive my wife. This isn’t something she imagined having to do for a long time.”
Right. I’m supposed to participate in this farce. It’s not enough I had to sit by and watch my husband blackmail a lawyer. That was already painfully awkward, even when I told myself not to care or listen too hard. The more detached I am, the easier it is to survive.
But this, I’m expected to care about, even if reality says otherwise. We have to keep up appearances. Blinking quickly, I clear my throat and sit up straighter. “I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult—”
The prim, pale-faced undertaker shakes his head while his mouth pulls together in what I guess is supposed to be sympathy.
If anything, it looks creepy. “It’s a trying time.
No need to explain. You have been through a terrible, life-altering upheaval.
Here, we aren’t interested only in taking care of a client’s earthly remains.
We place a great deal of importance on caring for those left behind.
We want to take everything off your hands. ”
“Thank you.” I don’t dare tell him the full story.
As far as I’m concerned, he can take all of this off my hands, because I don’t care.
I don’t feel anything during this so-called trying time.
The man in the dark suit sitting on the other side of an enormous desk doesn’t have the first clue how trying it’s been.
The hand on my back only makes it worse. Liam moves it in a small, slow circle. The supportive husband trying to help his wife keep it together. I have to bite the inside of my mouth to hold in the laughter that wants to burst out of me. It’s even better than breaking down crying.
The undertaker cleared his throat before gently moving a large binder closer to where we’re sitting side-by-side. “Please, take your time making your choices. I assume you wish to go with a full-service burial.”
Liam shifts in his chair. “Really, I’m not sure we need to–”
“Absolutely.” I pull my gaze from the photos and descriptions spread out in front of me, looking at my husband. “I think that’s what he would want. Something big. He was a larger-than-life person.”
Something flickers across his handsome face, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “You would know better than I would, dear.”
I’m pretty sure dollar signs are dancing in the undertaker’s eyes by the time I start flipping through the pages, choosing the most expensive casket available. I barely notice what it looks like. The price alone is all that matters.
“We work with the cemetery’s stone masons to arrange for an appropriate monument as well.” A second binder magically appears, filled with increasingly ornate headstones, all the way up to a full-on mausoleum.
He doesn’t deserve any of this. If it were really up to me, they could cremate him and spread his ashes someplace far, far away from me without giving me a location.
I would be fine with that. The idea of never seeing him again doesn’t fill me with sadness or a sense of loss.
I’m not flooded with happiness, either. I feel…
Nothing. This isn’t shock. It’s total detachment.
But my husband wants me to pretend, so I’ll pretend.
“He would like this,” I decide, tapping a finger on a photo of a large marble bench flanked by a pair of weeping angels.
“That way, I can sit and visit with him.” It’s tens of thousands of dollars and probably a drop in the bucket compared to what Liam can afford, but it’s something.
The only thing that I can do to get back at him, even in a tiny way.
The corners of his mouth pull downward, and there is no light behind his eyes, but he nods slowly. “Sure. That’s a nice idea.”
By the time we leave the office, with the funeral set for Friday, the undertaker looks like he could use an oxygen mask.
“You made him very happy today.” Liam makes a big show of helping me into the car as if he’s the caring husband, and I’m the grieving daughter.
Before closing the door, he leans down, and to my surprise, he’s grinning.
“If you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, princess, you’re going to have to try a lot harder. ”
So much for that. I don’t have the energy to roll my eyes, much less to argue. Let him think he won. He already does, anyway. God, if there’s anyone or anything that could wipe this smirk off his face.
I’m burying my father on Friday. It’s like the thought involves someone else. A different family, a different life. Some fictional character who has nothing to do with me or the man who raised me.
“We’ll go home and freshen up now.” He doesn’t look up from his phone, thumbs flying as he types a message.
Freshen up. His choice of words jars me out of the fog wrapped around my aching head. “Freshen up for what?” There I was, hoping I could get a little time to unwind on my own.
“We have a dinner reservation, wifey.” His grin reminds me of a shark when he turns it on me. “I want you to look your best.” His gaze crawls over me and makes me shiver in a way I don’t feel comfortable with. I don’t want this man’s approval, and I definitely don’t want him to touch me.
Even if the memory of his hand on my skin makes me shiver in a way that’s new to me. Maybe if Dad had let me gain a little experience with men instead of keeping me locked up like a prisoner my whole life, it would take more than the touch of a man’s hand to undo me deep inside.
We’re back at the penthouse, with me moving in a daze, when he looks me up and down on his way to the bedroom. “I have work to do before dinner.” I wonder what his work is, but doubt he would tell me if I asked. “You look like hell. Take a nap or something—I don’t want you looking tired tonight.”
He’s right. I am tired. Tired of the entire farce my life has always been. I’m locked away again, just under a different roof.
And my current jailer cares about me just as much as Dad ever did.
Right away, it’s obvious there’s something strange going on here.
Shifting uncomfortably in the short, tight dress Liam chose for tonight, I gaze out the window toward the restaurant we pulled up in front of. “Are they open?” I murmur, observing the dark windows.
“For us, they are.” He leaves me with that cryptic response, getting out of the limo and walking around the back to open my door.
As much as I don’t want to reach out and take his hand, I know there’s no choice.
I have to comply, because a man with his means could make my life even more of a nightmare than it is now.
Besides, part of me is kind of interested in seeing what comes next.
As it turns out, the restaurant is open, with a few lights burning to lead our way through an empty dining room and into a small banquet room in the back.
This room is fully lit, and at its center a single round table is already surrounded by men in dark suits who turn almost in unison to watch us enter arm in arm.
Once we reach the table, I realize I recognize everyone here.
I’ve never met them, but there were nights I would watch from the upstairs windows as they arrived at the house.
Dad’s guards would pat them down before they came inside for dinner or drinks.
I know their faces, their smirks. Disgust makes my skin crawl as they study me. Some men just have a way about them.
“Good evening.” Liam is all business, pulling out the chair for me and sliding it closer to the table before taking his own seat at my left hand. I’m the only woman here. Only a woman would understand how that feels, especially in the presence of men like these.
The man sitting directly across from me—tall, burly, with deep-set eyes that pierce me from a distance—clears his throat. “We’re all sorry to hear about your dad,” he offers. “It’s a terrible way to go.”
The younger man sitting to his right snickers softly. “Good thing you weren’t there when the fire broke out. Where were you, anyway?”
Liam slams his water glass onto the table, and the sound is like the crack of a gun. “I called this meeting for us to get to know each other. Not for you to plague my wife with pointless questions.”
“So it’s true.” I think the gray-haired man’s name is Giorgio. I remember hearing Dad talk about how old-school Giorgio is. Trustworthy. “The two of you are married.”
“We are married,” Liam confirms, “and the Blackwell businesses now fall under my ownership.”
There’s a moment of profound silence, which doesn’t come as a surprise. If only they understood I know exactly how they feel. He has surprised me, too. Under the table, my nails sink into my palms so I won’t scream.
“You have to be joking, right?” The man across from me—Tommy something or other, I think—forces a laugh, and soon he’s not the only one.
“Come on. Do you think you can just sit down and announce some shit like this?” Giorgio folds his hands on the table after nudging away a plate heaped with various meats and cheeses from the platter in the center.
“You’re young, so you probably don’t understand how this kind of thing is done.
There has to be a vote on certain things.
The men who worked under Donovan all these years get a say in this.
“You don’t get to just sit down and announce you’re taking over,” he concludes with a chuckle, not unkindly. But there’s something patronizing about it, and I can almost hear Liam’s hackles rise.
“I am the husband of Donovan Blackwell’s only child.” Liam is even, calm. I wonder if he’s practiced this before and decide he probably has. He leaves nothing to chance. “And as of thirty minutes ago, all of his accounts were signed over to me. I control all of his assets.”
“But not his business.” Tommy taps a fist against the table. “None of us agreed to work with you.”
“You will. You all will.” He speaks with the same confidence he had earlier today. “If you don’t, every single one of you will find out what happens when your dirty deeds are aired for the whole world to see.”
He nods toward Giorgio. “Are you still taking those secret flights out to Thailand? They’re a lot more lenient out there when it comes to certain activities, aren’t they?”
He barely waits for color to rise in Giorgio’s cheeks before turning to another one of the men.
“How is that second family treating you? Exactly how much do you think your wife could sue you for when she files for divorce? And exactly what do you think her five brothers would do to you if they found out? Two of them have done time for manslaughter, right? Or was it three?”
While the men sputter and exchange fearful glances, he continues.
“I know each and every one of you, even if this is the first time we’ve ever met.
I know who you are; I know what you provided to Donovan while he was alive, and I know what you will provide for me now that I’ve taken control of his businesses.
And if you don’t, I will burn you to the ground. It’s as simple as that.”
He knows how to make a point. I’ll give him that. And part of me likes watching these big, so-called powerful men trying not to shit themselves while they process what they just heard. My gaze moves over the table while they struggle to keep it together.
Finally, Tommy speaks. “Fine. I’ll go along with you.”
His attention lands on me before he adds, “If I get one night with your wife over here. I always did wonder if she’s as good as she looks.”
Bile rises in my throat. I’m barely able to swallow it back, especially thanks to the way he stares at me, unblinking, his eyes narrowing in a suggestive way. Like he’s imagining it. What a pig.
But Liam? Liam doesn’t move. I don’t even think he breathes. What is he thinking? What will his response be?
“I do appreciate your candor.” He chuckles softly, but I hear the growl running underneath it. “So that’s all it will take for you? One night with her?”
With a lift of one thick shoulder, Tommy replies, “That’s it. Take it or leave it, kid.”
Liam chuckles again, and the sound turns my stomach.
Is he actually entertaining this idea? We never talked about this, but then we haven’t talked about anything, have we?
Is he really going to let this happen? I would rather die.
I wish he had left me in the house with Dad last night if that’s how this is going to turn out.
My throat tightens into a pinhole. I dig my nails deeper into my palms, fighting to breathe.
“I think I’ll leave it.” In one smooth, quick movement, Liam reaches under his suit jacket, pulls out a gun, and fires.
My gasp isn’t even the loudest sound in the room after the ear-shattering echo of the gun fades to silence.
Blood blooms across the front of Tommy’s shirt while he sputters and gasps, clutching his chest like that will make a difference.
Men who I guess are his guards rush forward, but Liam clicks his tongue and shakes his head, aiming for them next.
“I wouldn’t,” he warns before they can reach for their weapons.
I shouldn’t watch, but I can’t help myself.
Slowly, the light leaves Tommy’s deep-set eyes until he’s nothing but a sack of meat slumped in his chair.
“What about the rest of you?” Nothing about Liam has changed.
Nobody would know he just shot a man dead.
“Does anyone else at this table want a night with my wife? Let me know now so we can clear up any misconceptions you might have.”
One by one, the men sit back in their chairs, adjusting their ties, releasing the breath they were holding. They’re shaken, all of them. All it took was a single bullet delivered with no emotion, no hesitation.
“That’s what I thought.” Liam lowers the gun to the table, where it stays in clear view as he lifts his wineglass in a toast. “To our new partnership.”
And that’s all it takes. That’s all he needed to do to get everything he wants. They couldn’t stop him.
I’m starting to wonder if anything can.